2009 Adventures

Some days, traveling in Central America is downright difficult.

As a woman traveling alone, I have a highly-developed “bubble”–a vital survival technique. It allows me to walk peacefully through chaos, untouched by hawkers and street vendors and leering men and staring women and beggars and stray dogs and all of the other elements common to developing countries. In that space, I can observe the environment without being completely overwhelmed. On many occasions, it’s the only thing that preserves my sanity; it is impossible to notice the good when you’re preoccupied with the bad.

Some days, the bubble just doesn’t bloody function. Today was one of those days. Everything got to me. A man walking by made some kind of sleazy comment in Spanish, and instead of ignoring him (first rule: never engage), I  fixed him with a look intended to communicate all of my disgust and anger. A block later, a “hey baby, mi amor” came my way, and I snapped, “I’m not your amor, asshole.”  (Witty, huh?) Although these reactions probably didn’t have an effect on either man, they just reinforced my irritation. And in that state of mind, the sun was suddenly hotter, the streets dirtier, the drivers more dangerous, the vendors more obnoxious, the poverty more heartbreaking. I was making eye contact with the wrong characters (it’s like a sixth sense, knowing when to avoid meeting someone’s eyes), glaring at people who got in my way.

In those moments, I missed out on the joy of of a crazy market street in Nicaragua–I missed the opportunity to be grateful for the privilege of simply being there.

So you see, the bubble is a necessity.

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In other news, I had a near-death experience in the jungle yesterday. (How’s that for a transition?)

Nikki and I went on a zip-line canopy tour on the slopes of Mombacho, a volcano outside of Granada. It’s a fairly straightforward affair–they strap you into a climbing harness, clip you onto a cable, and send you zooming through the treetops to another platform, where a guide catches you. We made it through a few platforms successfully, even going upside down and in the “superman” position (head first, arms out). Then, the guides clipped us in together, with me in back and Nikki superman-ing in front. My job was to slow us down near the end of the line; no problem.

Then, they had us switch. Nikki is tiny, and wasn’t able to slow us down. So there I was, head-first, barreling toward an enormous tree at top speed, unable to stop. In the space of a few seconds, I realized we were going to hit, and somehow managed to turn so that my side would take most of the impact.

We slammed hard into the tree and swung back on the cable, surprisingly alive and unbroken. In the chaos of “are you all right?” that followed, we didn’t immediately notice one of the guides slumped down on the platform. When he realized that we were not going to stop, he literally jumped in front of us, absorbing most of the impact. The man saved me from at very least a broken arm, leg, and possibly some ribs–and, realistically, prevented a serious neck or back injury. As it is, I walked away with only a sore ankle and a painful shoulder. AND he finished the tour! Thankfully, he was all right, but I suspect he may be bruised today.

Always adventuring.