Nicaragua Said I Can Go.

Post date: Jun 28, 2010 10:33:58 PM

My bike is slowly fitting in more and more with the bikes of Latin America; it has all but acquired a 2x4 as a replacement for part of the frame. Not that bad yet, but at this rate my beautiful KLR may be left with just couple spokes by the time I reach Ushuaia, Argentina! I declined to have the epoxy-glued fairing painted. The purpose is two-fold: A) to save money and time, and B) the uglier the bike, the less likely someone will want to steal it or my possessions. The mechanic did well piecing her back together, so I was back on the road after just 1.5 days after being tossed into the ditch by a gringo-hating truck driver. My boxes and their rack are straight and sturdy, the foot pegs are strong, the front brake lever is in a more reachable position, all the dash electronics function, and it’s functionally as good as it was before the accident. The brakes are feeling a little weak, however, so I will inspect those in the morning.

Having just a couple hours to scoot out of Chinandega, I made for Hostel Santos, which I’d originally aimed for in Managua. It was only 2 hours or 85 miles away. But rain started to fall along the way, and that mixed with darkness from dark clouds and a vanished sun, and that mixed with smoke from all the village dinner and garbage fires, and that mixed with swarms of tiny flying insects. Perfect! A chance to practice my education from yesterday’s lesson: “Take it easy!” It’s clear to me now just how much of an addict I am to adrenaline and stupid risk-taking. Normally I would have whizzed along in these conditions, piqued by the uncertainty of the road ahead. But tonight, I pulled up behind a chain of cars and semis, using their lights to guide me and test the road conditions. It meant cruising at a good 20 mph less than I’d like, but I did some math and figured that if I’d been going half my speed this entire trip, I’d probably be in the same position I am today because at such speeds I’d probably have avoided both the wrecks. Speaking of which, I saw a young motorcycler skid and wipe out right in front of me at about 25mph. I stopped with other people to help him, but they had things under control. He limped off with them. He wasn’t wearing any protective gear. Soon after I saw a totaled car that appeared to have had a head-on with something. I was happy I was “taking it easy.”

Hotel Santos was a nightmare to find. Nicaragua may have the worst road signs yet; they’re invisible. Maybe Nicaraguans have special glasses to see them. In situations like this, I ask people. This amounts to me asking where the street is, nodding and saying “No entiendo” (I don’t understand), them getting frustrated, and eventually I depart with only a general idea of the direction my next street is in. No matter the struggle, I always seem to find my destination. Too bad I’ve simply grown to distrust this land because I’d love to just pull over like I do in the states and set up camp in road side ditch.

On a completely different note, Latin America LOVES soccer more than Americans love any sport. Aside from language, it is probably the thread that sews them all together. Everyone watches the games. Soccer players are the greatest celebrities in their culture. Today I watched others watch the U.S. get beat by Ghana. Of all the world’s countries, I think that soccer-passion is the weakest in the United States. Nicaraguans also love baseball, according to the Jehovah’s Witness (Moses), who gave me a booklet about something I will not be reading but accepted out of politeness.

And more on religion, a touchy subject for many. In my recent discussions with Christians here, it has become even more apparent to me that they seem to feel that human kindness would not exist without God’s intervention. This seems to me to be a life-hating, pessimistic point of view. It asserts that humans are first and foremost wicked creatures for whom love is atrocious. I don’t like this point of view. Supposing there is a god, that this god cares about human activities, that this god gets involved in the outcomes of human activities, who are we to assume that this god wants or needs any of our input? God’s business is God’s business. No need to be a pesky kid running into the bedroom of Mommy and Daddy to ask if it’s okay to have a popsicle. We should all mind our own business and do our share. Let others, including God, do as they wish. If they choose to help, that’s nice, but don’t count on it, and don’t be angry if no one feels like helping. Some things die for a good reason, heart breaking as that may be. I’m going to hear about this for sure. Some ears aren’t fit for such words as these. Maybe it’s better that way. Does this perspective of mine contradict my interest in faith? I don’t think so. One can have faith without a god and without a religion. Faith is a word that means freedom from worry, and it is acquired from life-education; one learns with time and an open mind that things generally work out well somehow. Faith is also self-confidence and confidence in the ability of the world to provide the resources necessary to overcome a situation.

I had today a scary thought that I intend to test. Imagination is always better or worse than reality, meaning reality is much more dull than we make it out to be in our overly-dramatic minds. What compels action is the dream that the reward for the action will satisfy some great hunger. It seems to me at this time that the reward is seldom as great as the vision. Dreams are greatest at first birth, and with age and actualization become less emotion-stirring. Like I said, this remains to be tested.

As a child the world was very small. There was Mom, Dad, Cindy, Tammy, and Josh. There was Grandma, Steve, and Scottie down the street. The crick and park were in the backyard. Across the street at the post office there was the trailer park swimming pool. What felt like a day’s bikeride away (1/4 mile) was Dick’s IGA, a giant (hole in the wall) grocery that sold Garbage Pail Kids. In the park or the post office, on Saturdays in the summer, the FunMobile would come to collect our quarters in exchange for hours of fun with board games, kickball, painting, peanut hunts, and songs. At that time, I had no idea that there were Chinese, Amazon jungle, or tectonic plates. There was no global warming, no global economic recessions, no Cold War. The world was infinite because I had neither the idea nor the care for limits. That part of life I will never regain. It was the cozy ignorance of youth when all things were new and unlike anything you’d ever seen before. There’s nothing truly new today; it’s all just variations of the same thing. That, I think, is my sadness. That, I think, is why I have always been so curious about other parts of the world. And what I’m finding is that people and land are more the same than they are different. Nothing new under the sun.

But that’s not to say that I don’t get a kick out of the cows in the streets being herded by a smiling, gap-toothed, poor Nicaraguan farmer dressed in wool he’d likely pulled himself from his sheep. Or being offered a prostitute for $10 by a guy I’d only known an hour. Or trying the local variety of vanilla ice cream (Nicaraguans put raisins in theirs). Or seeing men pee in plain sight on the road sides or on park trees. Or being helped by complete strangers to lift my motorcycle after taking a turn too fast.

I just want that sensation I remember from so long ago, but it’s dawning on me that that sensation will never again be possible. THAT is why so many turn to drugs; they reconnect one to the miraculous beauty of childhood… for a minute or two, then leave you choking on your tears.

I also had my first intuition that I seek not to find myself, but to lose myself. I find that I am always here, and it gets a little annoying sometimes. For example, I fixate on things I want, which helps me to succeed at my goals but stresses me out during the process of pursuing my goal. During the process, time is typically pressured by me, and I seek ways to accelerate the process. On top of that, I like results to be high quality. I appreciate the energy required to create high quality. I don’t like conflicts but get a rush from being near them. The list goes on and on. I’m very well acquainted with who I am. It’s been that way for a VERY long time. Too long. Maybe I’m not pushing myself hard enough. Right. A number of factors have made this the toughest challenge of my life. The fact that I’m feeling inspired to settle down is news. That’s enough. I’m too tired to continue.