A series of cultural experiences (the good and bad)
We’re back in Estelí after a long couple of travel days on chicken bus, and I finally have a moment to digest and recount all that’s occurred.
I’m sitting next to a professional blogger, who is raving about his websites, amount of followers and lists of advertisers who want a part of him. He only works with the best offers, he told me. Not the fancy hotels from Italy that want an ugly tourism photo on the front page for a meager 50 bucks a year. He’s been offered paid trips around the world, Euro rail passes from PayPal, and the offers continue to pile in.
At first I couldn’t take him seriously, but as I continued to buy into his odd, but charismatic demeanor, he gave me insight into how one can actually make a living traveling and writing. He’s worse at Spanish than I am. It was entertaining to listen to him pronounce names of towns in Honduras, as he Skyped reservations to his next hostel — iPod headphones in his ears, iPhone in hand.
We spent the last two days at Raul Ramos’ rural farm, a contact of Hannah’s, nearly on the Honduras border. The trip was an adventure. The morning consisted of terrible gut pains, followed by two long-cramped bus rides into the rural northwest corner of the country, and the conclusion of a winter solstice spent under the stars, throwing up from a friendly parasite. Hannah described where they pumped the water out the next day. I should’ve known better.
I’ve also failed in the mean time as a photographer. Hannah has fired me countless times. Lineth, Raul’s 13-year-old daughter almost took my place, but I think Hannah likes me a little more than she may show. I could be wrong, but I’m still around.
She definitely took care of my worthless ass at the farm, traveling 30 minutes to Las Sabanas on the back of a motorbike. She even made me soup that the mom, Lucia Ramos, thought would be good on my stomach.
But when we returned to Estelí, it was time for some separation. We went our separate ways to find some lunch, coffee and Internet, and I ran into our Alaskan friend Kayla at Café Luz. It’s funny how paths cross again and again.
Tonight Hannah’s running off to the club for ladies’ night with Kayla, Mark and two of his friends who arrived, leaving me (who had enough club music the other night) at the hotel we booked…Well actually she booked…that locks us out at 10 p.m.
I’m allowed to throw a few jabs in after her countless comments in Spanish that she knows I don’t understand.
So let’s see how she manages this night. She claims she doesn’t drink much, but things change on people’s first night in country.
I stayed at the bar with Rob, the entertaining blogger, and recapped all the shenanigans we’ve encountered from a soccer game to the outdoor club to the farm.
So here’s a series of fortunate and unfortunate events, and I’m even going to write a sports story of sorts. Yea Arts!