we got ometeped

Ometepe is an island in the middle of Lake Nicaragua home to a duet of volcanoes, Maderas (1300M) and Concepcion (1600M). To get to Ometepe is not an easy task. From Granada we took a chicken bus ride to Rivas, taxied from Rivas to San Jorge, ferried from San Jorge to Ometepe and then split a cab with team Germany to our hostel, Zapilote. Zapilote is a self-sustaining hippy farm that is situated on the Maderas volcano right smack in the middle of the jungle. Zapilote was a spitting image of Shakedown Street after a Grateful Dead Concert. An old yellow school bus that had been transformed into a library, free yoga classes, farm to table organic eats and a flame throwing juggler during pizza night were all great things about this place. Another fun fact about Ometepe is that there are still evacuation route signs up just in case one of the volcanoes decides to act a fool again and start spitting out some lava.

The two full days that we were in Ometepe we Carpe Diem’ed the hell out of the dias. The first day we decided to rent a scooter and boogie all over the island. After a two-minute lesson on the workings of the scooter, we were off. Since the lesson was done in Spanish, of which I got 25% of, I let Meg give it a go at first. Meg driving a scooter was similar to Jeff Gordon’s final lap at the Indy 500, no fear. Holding on and feeling helpless, I served as the backseat reminder that we needed to slow down when we were approaching speed bumps and wild pigs hanging out in the middle of the street. On the scooter we stopped at an Ojo de agua (fresh water spring) and did the tarzan rope swing into the deep end (5 feet of water which really was not safe at all). Then it was my turn to drive. I lasted about 5 minutes. Went up a hill at 20 mph and came down the other side at 10. Maybe it was the cobblestone streets or the precious cargo behind me, but I couldn’t get comfortable on the bike. Just wasn’t my thing and I had to turn it back to the pro.

On day 2 we went on an 8 hour hike up the Maderas Volcano. The Maderas summit was guarded by a fortress of rain clouds, steep jagged rock, muddied waters and humidity that would even give New York City a run for its money on a 95 degree day. The muddied water cannot be overlooked. Imagine a chocolate milk made with Hershey syrup…

[Meg’s corner here – So they tell us, it’s an 8 hour hike. I figure I hiked Mt. Whitney when I was twelve, ran a couple miles once or twice on the Chicago boardwalk last year, I got this. Wrong, so wrong. It was like being on an 8-hour stairmaster. Now this was no regular stairmaster – this one was full of unsteady rocks, the slickest mud you’ve felt, and mud puddles of undisclosed depths. All the while it’s absolutely POURING. All that said, it was pretty spectacular to be up in the rainforest with monkeys, birds, and an eerie layer of clouds. Would I do it again? No. Am I so happy we did it? Absolutely.]

When we did reach the summit there was a visibility of about 5 feet. Our guide was there to greet us with a high five and then we moved down to the crater of the volcano to eat lunch. Our mud-filled shorts may never truly come clean but I’m sure there’s some couples bonding lesson to be learned here.

the essence of the right sack

Carrying your life around in a 75 liter backpack for 10 months is a colossal feat and one that I was ill prepared for. Having packed for every situation possible, after the first couple of days down here I realized that I would be in the same shirt for 4 days at a time. AND NO ONE CARES. Our first travel experience in the chicken bus was from Laguna de Apoyo to Granada. And I let my sack hold me down, literally. Packed in like sardines, I was worrying about my backpack instead of having fun with all of the Nicaraguan School kids on their way home. Your backpack can make or break your travels. It was breaking mine and I was only on day two of the 10 month trip. So I decided to ditch a non-inspiring RCVA shirt, a long sleeve that was worn by Mel Gibson in Braveheart, one of the THREE bug sprays we had decided were absolutely necessary, body wash (that’s what shampoo is for) and a Spanish one textbook that I had only reached up to the –AR verbs in. We came to a decision point in Granada that the experiences we were going to encounter don’t come from the backpack at all; they come from the people you meet and the decisions you encounter. So what’s inside just needs to make you a happy camper at the end of the day. I’m sure this won’t be the last time we say f-you to things we thought to be essential but for now, we’re one step closer to not taking up four seats on the chicken bus.

volcanos, craters, and monkeys, oh my!

We’ve officially hit the road – first stop: Laguna de Apoyo, a crater lake right next to the Masaya volcano where the water is clear and crisp and water sports and nature walks comprise your days. Kevin’s girlfriend Jessly was our transportation angel, whisking us out of the city of Managua and into the heaven that is Laguna de Apoyo. We arrived at nightfall and the moon hung so low, its light bouncing off the lake, looking like an illustration in a children’s book. …and then we said Goodnight Moon. We spent the next two days, paddling in the lake, playing bocce, flipping over one-person kayaks in search of the epic first instagram selfie, and getting a taste of what our next ten months would be like. It was the perfect place to relax after our hectic airplane experience and chill place to start our travels.

Then it was off to Granada, a historic town with vibrant colors situated right on Lake Nicaragua. We lucked out and arrived on the day of what we understood to just be a celebration of Granada put on by the church. Two bands played opposite each other, one a country act complete with cowboy hats and bikini-clad girls, and the other the N’Sync of Granada, sporting black pants and yellow leather shirts. We dubbed them the “Curious George’s”. The locals seemed to know exactly who they were singing along to every word. We attempted to dance on the side of the stage welcoming the laughs and hollers of the old women watching/making fun of us.

The following day we hopped on a ponga and went around the isletas that formed from a volcano eruption (we don’t actually know how many years ago). Apparently many families live on the isletas for generations and generations but there seemed to be quite a few expats buying islands and building mansions on them as well. An island full of monkeys was a highlight of the boat ride. The guide passed out little fruits which Luke immediately popped one in his mouth and then later hoped weren’t poisonous to humans. Lucy and her daughter swung from the trees and into our boat where we held hands and bonded over sour berries.

Our hostel in Granada was highly questionable, but full of great people. We wound up spending the night in a treehouse bar with four new, very cool, traveling friends. Luke practiced his Spanish playing cierto or falso with new glittered pals. Our hike down from the treehouse after the evening was far from graceful but the bumps, bruises, and dirty clothes were very worth the new friends and memories.

Off to Ometepe!

Be safe. Be wild.

I had this surreal realization wash over me the other morning; something we had talked about, planned, debated for months was finally happening. It didn’t hit me packing up our first apartment together. It didn’t hit me driving away from the Chicago we had called home for years. It hit me just sitting on the front stoop at Luke’s parents in Larchmont.

We decided to quit our jobs and flee the country with what we’ve been calling a “rough plan” but is really no plan at all. We just decided to do this huge thing, then we made it happen. We made it happen. Maybe it’s just me but I think it finally hit me just how cool that is.

…then we made it as far as Houston. The less romanticized part of traveling: delays. But part of the adventure all the same. People around us were yelling at the poor airline associates and Luke and I were patient, kind, and probably the only people who got a free hotel. We spent a night in undoubtedly the nicest hotel we’ll stay in all year and attempted to spend $60 in meal vouchers at a dry bar hotel.

Yes, missing our connection was a bummer but also a great reminder as to why this year is going to be so great: each other. I know no one who rolls with the punches better than Luke.

We are ready. We have every cord, peanut, raincoat, solar powered charger, and pack lock we could possibly need. Everyone has lovingly been reminding us to be safe which I think made me more nervous than I expected. Then I finally talked to spirit animal and travel guru Jenna Essakow and she reminded me of just what I needed to hear. “Be safe. Be wild.” We promise to be safe but that’s not what this trip is about; it’s about the wild crazy world out there for us to see.

-Meg

Let’s get out there and be somebody!

Next stop Nicaragua! After 28 hours filled with emotional goodbyes, three flights, a stay at the Holiday Inn in Houston, and 6 ten-dollar meal vouchers, wheels are finally up on our journey through Central and South America. The feelings that we have encountered within the last day or so are unbelievable! Brought me back to the days leading up to a big game and probably for Meg when she realized she was a Californian girl going to a school in the middle of Ohio. Particulars in the feelings category included anxiety over what we were packing for the next 288 days, eagerness to get over the hump of the language barrier (even brought my sister, Kayla, level 1 textbook to freshen up), excitement around the people that we will meet along the way and a heavy heart for the friends and family that we had to say goodbye to.

Goodbyes are the hardest part. The past two weeks have been gifted with a series of ‘one lasts.’ We have gotten a similar sendoff as a student leaving the nest for their freshman year of college would (good luck Amanda Glaser!). A gathering of friends at our empty Burling Street apartment in Chicago, a week in Montauk with Family and a scorching hot Yankees game with the town are just a few examples of hasta luegos that we are very thankful for. We have felt the love just as a totem pole being hugged by spirit seekers trying to catch their dream would.

I cannot wait to endure the thrill of being lost with my partner in crime and love. Just within a day she has embodied that she is the Ying to my passive chill Yang. There will be ups and downs, wins and losses, moments where she’ll be walking ten meters ahead of me to get some distance beca
use I just had the last drop of milk but at the end of the day we’ll always go to bed happy because that’s who we are.

I got this question a lot from people before leaving, “Why in the world are you taking this trip?” The truth is, I don’t really know but I have no doubt that we’re ready for it and somewhere along the way we’ll find out. We’re ready to get lost and take a left at the fork in the road.

 

Till’ next time,

Luke