The sky is a crystalline blue, the clouds still cloaking the
nearby volcanoes. The sun is strong and as I lather on the SPF 50 can feel the
heat passing through to my heart. I love the feel of the sun on my skin, and
sometimes I crave it, even though I know the dangers all too well. A woman
further down in the chaise line-up, compliments my swimsuit and smiles she too
is wearing Title9 in a very similar pattern. Synchronicity, Nica is filled with
the magic of it.
A lap, a nap, my eyes flutter to catch elephants charging
horses, laying their heads on downy pillows.
Cloud watching is one of my
favorite pastimes and reminds me of afternoons spent as a child at Owl’s HeadPark in Bay Ridge, stretched out on plaid blankets
feeding our imaginations with the sky. As adults so much of our time is spent
inside staring at screens, is it any wonder that we’ve forgotten how to see the
world around us as multi-dimensional? A few years back friends and I went apple
picking, it was a gorgeous day in early fall where the heat of summer lingered.
We spent the day in an orchard, marveling at the changing colors of the trees
and after a full day we made it back to The Swiss Miss’ apartment in midtown,
drunk on sunshine and fresh air. Glass of wine in hand, we lazed about the
couch and the floor cloud-watching from the east-ward window: such a blissful
memory .
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The van is gunmetal gray with a fire breathing decal across
the windshield, a burka-sized peephole for drivers Omar & Luiz to view the
road. The rain starts almost immediately, a thunderous downpour as we make our
way to the airport. I ask Luiz if it the rain is this heavy at el coco loco. Lluvia is the word for rain, he says, my
words lost in translation.
Omar and I are at a gas station, while Luiz is at Managua
airport rounding up the other women participating in the Surfing Retreat. Omar,
a native of Chinandega, has an insatiable curiosity and as we lie in wait he is
bubbling over with 20 questions. I feel like Elizabeth Gilbert surrounded by Wayans in Bali: Are you married? How old are you? Do you
have a boyfriend? What year was it the last time you had one? Where did he
live? We share stories in Spanglish, learning each other’s lives.
There are 6 of us in varying stages of exhaustion in the
back seat of the van as Luiz and Omar drive us west toward the Pacific Coast,
Bob Marley videos playing for our entertainment. The conversation flows in and
out like the tide. Almost every time zone is represented with travelers from
California, Nevada, Indiana and New York.
Our passage to El Coco Loco is mostly highway until we get
closer to Chinandega and then it is anyone’s guess where we are and where we
are going. I feel like Alex Rover relying on GPS coordinates to find her way.
The storms have hit the surrounding areas making for a bumpy way inland to the
sea. A tree is down on the main road, so Omar & Luiz take us through the
backroads to the estuary where we meet Holly and her fleet of muddy 4WDs. We
exchange vehicles and drive across the estuary, a herd of cows leading the way.
By the time we make it to the ecolodge, the sky is streaked with dark blue
clouds and a golden sunset.
Volunteers sit on the verandah of the lodge typing away on
their macs. We are paired into cabana mates, given a tour of the compound and
walked through the basics of using a compost bathroom. Each cabana with its
cathedral like ceilings made of pine, palm and guava leaves has 2-3 beds
shrouded in a mosquito net, a night table and a mirror.
This is day one.
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