When travel becomes a lifestyle and nomadic becomes synonymous with freedom. Slow travel as a way to see the world takes time, but very little money.
THE RED ZONE As we turned the corner into San Jose’s red zone, a woman with her eyes to the sky staggered toward us. She wore years of hardship on her face and a hopelessness to her gait. I’m sure the three older women that we were with could protect us. At least they wanted to. […]
The bike slid and I saw it all happen in slow motion. Our bodies approached the dusty rocky road surface and I knew that we would lose a bit of skin. Before I could think any further, we got really intimate with the beautiful island of Ometepe, skin to gravel. Ometepe Island Ometepe is an island is
The island provides a backdrop for people’s lives to intertwine and create moments that, though ephemeral, enriches our lives with the lasting memories that they provide.
Perhaps this is true for any place we go to, and each of our experiences is a unique combination of the interactions we have with the people there, more than the attractions that the place has.
“You will get sick,” they said. “Last year, one of the little boats capsized and a lot of people died,” one gentleman told me the morning we were leaving Granada. Others at that hostel suggested that we really should fly to our destination. They’ve heard too many horror stories about the sea journey. Many of
I am learning more every day that we need a whole lot less than we think we need. I’m also humbled by the overabundance of what we actually have. We met many wonderful people this past week as we worked in the little mountain town of Waslala. REPLACING HOMES OF PLASTIC I’ll never forget
The bodies were so close pressing in on every side when I felt his hand searching for my pocket and trying to unzip my bag. I told him no and shoved him hard as I squeezed by down the crowed aisle of the chicken bus.
Some say he is crazy, others say he is wise. He is a hermit known as the “rock man” and we were going to make a trek into the jungle to meet him. We navigated the busy bus terminal of Leon, located north of the town in a densely packed market. The street was filled with vendors
Strong gusts of wind are swirling through Leon, Nicaragua today. Mangoes blown out from the trees hit the metal roof with a loud bang and tumble noisily down into our yard. They are almost as loud as the cats at night running from rooftop to rooftop, sometimes squabbling, occasionally falling through into the homes below. “How does
I turned over on the grass to lay on my back. The moon had disappeared beyond the horizon. The winds cleared an opening in the clouds above us revealing a canopy of millions of stars. I could hear the next gust of wind headed toward us from far away like a winged night creature. I shivered and listened as the
Are the looks from strangers different this morning? Is there another meaning behind the stares from locals as I stumble on the uneven sidewalk in Leon? Or is it just my imagination after the news this morning. The same courtesy still exists – the slight movement of a stranger to the side as we pass on the
