I never did extrapolate on my adventure to Colombia, an inability I attribute to extreme culture shock. Imagine if I had gone back home. My trip was great and even more meaningful because I got to see Rabe and because it will be my only out of country vacation for my two years in the Peace Corps. On arrival, there were some initial errands that had to be attended to , my favorite of which involved being pinched, pricked, and winked in a two minutes flat. I had to convince the Red Cross at the airport to give me a free yellow fever shot AND change the date to a week before. Thank God they were all girls, and I could charm them with my passable though accented Spanish, oh yeah, and blue eyes. Although to keep quiet in front of the boss, one of the ladies did pinch me, shortly before giving me the shot.

After said incident we were free to wander the streets of Bogotá. We site-saw during the day and hung out at Chris´s apartment listening to salsa music with his girlfriend Lorena at night. It is a beautiful city of 8-10 million people. Latin American cities have a knack for being ¨Big, but to an Uncertain Degree.¨ The huge metropolitan plain at 2640 meters above sea level bunches up into a cluster of skyscrapers before slamming headlong into impecably forested moutains which dwarf the city. The cordillera is gently crowned by a monastery on one side and a Mother Mary on the other.

Perhaps after being in Nicaragua for a year, any city could have brought me to tears. Saying that, the city is World Class, with restaurants of every style, ornate parks competing for space with Blackberry festooned suits, and enough museums that we had to cut not a few visits short. My next trip there will theoretically not be so rushed. It may be slightly more dangerous than Nicaragua, but it is a city; Jekel and Hyde in full gear.

Still enamored by both sides, I made the return trip. I had bought a flight out of San Jose, Costa Rica for half the price as a Managua ticket. Although, my lack of fine-tuned planning nearly put me on the streets on my way there and back. Leaving Nicaragua I hadn´t thought about where I was going to stay until I was on the bus to San Jose. I wandered the rainy streets long past sunset looking for any hostel with room. My return trip was marginally smoother, despite the fact that I hadn´t anticipated staying there another night. To my chagrin (though not surprise) the bus I intended taking home doesn´t run this year. Sorry.

This amongst other hang ups made my return trip lonely, sad, and inspiration for my last blog post. Bogotá is a beautiful, metropolitan hub, finely cultured, and stacked with gorgeous people. My flight to San Jose reminded me I was going back to Central America by sitting me next to an older lady who kept staring at me and invited me several times to stay the night at her house through sparsely teethed cackles. Crossing into Nicaragua was worse. Everyone seemed to have poorly capped teeth, words were increasingly swallowed, women stopped shaving there legs, people were generally less hygenic and in worse shape for their age, and trash was indsicriminantly tossed from any window.

But I suppose that is why I´m here. Less to shave peoples´ legs than to help plant the seeds of wealth building, and global integration (to a point). In a backwater country, breaking cultural barriers to market entry might be difficult, but that´s why I took this job in the first place.

I didn't realize what a shit hole Nicaragua was until I left it. As I write this there are students staring, and I think they might have understood the last sentence I wrote.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY USA!!!

Last night many of the volunteers scammed our way into an embassy party. There were little American flags everywhere, including inbetween our hotdogs, hamburgers, and potato salad. Fireworks were lit off over the embassy softball field to crown the evening. With the embassador to my left, and someone special to my right, it will be a while before I forget it.

Although...
In Niacaragua, where ¨There is more time than life,¨ I still manage to find myself wishing for more of it. Without my admition that it may be my essence to scramble for time, I emplore you all to lengthen both the day and the week. 36 hours. 9 days. Please. I ran out of an entire month to write a proposal for Peace Corps money to fix up a school in my municipality. My high school business classes are farther behind than any one else in my group.

Instead of working diligently to rectify the situations at hand, I´m instead on vacation. I´m preparing for my first and probably last time out of Nicaragua in my service. I will be in León srfing by this afternoon, and leaving for Costa Rica tomorrow. From San José, I´ll be flying to Bogotá, Colombia for the week to visit Rabe. I´m exciting about visiting my old college buddy, it´s been a long time and I can´t wait to see what kind of shenannigan´s have been undertaken. I also need to see some museums, galleries, culture, etc. Niacaragua, although beautiful, is lacking in certain fields of interest.

Even before this vacation, though, i´ve been on mini-vacation here in Managua. I have been helping with some of the new business volunteers´ training--although I almost missed it completely despite having them switch the entire training schedule to accomodate my trip to Colombia. No harm, no foul.