Land of Volcanoes, Lakes, and Everything Else

As I unlock the chain to my front gate every morning I have two overriding thoughts: 1) It feels so nice to walk to work as opposed to driving or taking a metro 2) I’m not looking forward to this walk because it is emotionally taxing. Now how could that be? How could someone have two thoughts that describe the same activity and completely contradict each another?

Picture your favorite stroll in your hometown - the one that satisfies your appetite for peace and tranquility. Now imagine this stroll sprinkled with trash along your path, populated with malnourished animals, some of which are used as modes of transportation, and piles of dust polluting the air, as if someone just kicked sand in your face. Imagine the sound of screeching car beeps, the roaring of motorcycle engines, and a conglomeration of peculiar stenches you can never pinpoint. In so many words this is the contradiction of my walk to work – the idea of how I want it to be, and the reality of what it actually is.

Lately, I’ve come to believe that life in Nicaragua is a grind. True, I can only speak from my perspective in this urban sprawling known as Masaya, but it’s probably a feeling that permeates in other parts of this country. Having grown up in a completely different environment, I am certainly more sensitive to this grind, and don’t entirely accept it as “just the way things are.” It’s tough to accept the trash along the university walls knowing that a garbage can is in walking distance. It’s tough to accept the frail horses that gallop down the streets pulling a cart of people behind. It’s even tough to accept the constant honking of the taxi’s, which even when you’re walking the opposite direction, will still make a pass at you.

A few weeks back I decided to escape the urban setting, indulge in my hiking fetish and take to the Masaya Volcano National Park. I took the advice of my host family and waited for the bus en route to Managua, which passes by my house. Taking a bus in Nicaragua is like taking the metro or subway in any major US city during heaviest rush hour. Armpits, noise, sweat – it’s got it all!

I stayed close to the front of the bus so I wouldn’t miss my stop, and jumped out on the highway next to the entrance to the National Park. As I entered the grounds those feelings of peace and tranquility finally came to me. For the first time since entering the Land of Volcanoes and Lakes I felt alone with the sounds of nature. I walked a little more than a kilometer beforeI hit the visitor’s center. There I checked in with the park rangers where they relayed my physical description – black hair, gray shirt, and white skin – to the other rangers at the top.

I trucked along by myself, on the so-called path that was really a road. There was nothing around me except large volcanoes, hills, and occasionally a passing vehicle. Every ten minutes or so, I stopped, turned around, and made sure to take in the scenery I never see in the day-to-day grind. As I reached the top of the four kilometer trek, peering down at this beautiful countryside, it was clear my appetite had been satisfied. Sure, it’s always nice to achieve that simple goal of reaching the top of a Volcano. But more importantly, it is easy to forget the poverty, the trash, the animals, and the dust when standing on the peak of natural beauty.

I spent minimal time philosophizing about how a country so beautiful above can be so challenged below. And even though my stroll only lasted three hours, it was enough to settle the contradictory thoughts that enter my mind as I unlock the chain to my front gate every morning.