Stay true to yourself because at the end of the day you can't lie to yourself. – Patrick Grant
Friday, October 12, 2012 (DAYS 222 – 232)
The smell of burning garbage that includes a mixture of plastics and poo paper can be thanked to our surrounding neighbors, as billows of smoke fill the air throughout the day. Awe, the joys of traveling and living in third world countries that are part of living the so-called dream. In spite of the stench from the daily smoke stacks, the slow pace lifestyle has left little excitement over the past several weeks as many of the backpackers and tourists arriving have come to an almost screeching halt. The barren streets tend to ward out unfamiliar faces leaving behind the locals and long-term resident foreigners that for whatever reason have come to make SJDS their extended home. Daily walks around the town have caused me to appreciate more of the beauty that is often accompanied with the boredom that is my freedom from the stresses of a previous life. Passing through central park where the large green church stands as a staple overlooking the children that play in the courtyard in front of the large wooden doors and park benches that are occupied by old men deep in conversation, I cannot help but think how simplistic life can and should be, but somewhere along the way it has become a tangled mess of legislation and personal gain. Strolling along the busted sidewalks and uneven cobblestone streets, there are constant smiles and waves from almost everyone you pass. Pressing on with a frugal lifestyle as most backpackers do, one of my favorite free activities that I tend to indulge in frequently is walks along the beach. I love the scent of salt water in the air and the sound of the surf as is rolls up on shore.
The smell of burning garbage that includes a mixture of plastics and poo paper can be thanked to our surrounding neighbors, as billows of smoke fill the air throughout the day. Awe, the joys of traveling and living in third world countries that are part of living the so-called dream. In spite of the stench from the daily smoke stacks, the slow pace lifestyle has left little excitement over the past several weeks as many of the backpackers and tourists arriving have come to an almost screeching halt. The barren streets tend to ward out unfamiliar faces leaving behind the locals and long-term resident foreigners that for whatever reason have come to make SJDS their extended home. Daily walks around the town have caused me to appreciate more of the beauty that is often accompanied with the boredom that is my freedom from the stresses of a previous life. Passing through central park where the large green church stands as a staple overlooking the children that play in the courtyard in front of the large wooden doors and park benches that are occupied by old men deep in conversation, I cannot help but think how simplistic life can and should be, but somewhere along the way it has become a tangled mess of legislation and personal gain. Strolling along the busted sidewalks and uneven cobblestone streets, there are constant smiles and waves from almost everyone you pass. Pressing on with a frugal lifestyle as most backpackers do, one of my favorite free activities that I tend to indulge in frequently is walks along the beach. I love the scent of salt water in the air and the sound of the surf as is rolls up on shore.
Being an avid people-watcher, there is always entertainment even around this small Pacific beach town. Whether it is along the main road that overlooks the beach where the hippies create makeshift shops selling hemp bracelets or the intersection of the mercado where the buses arriving from Rivas and taxi drivers congregate, it is an endless live soap opera of characters. Often I will sit and take in the sights and sounds that are synonymous with Central America–the sandia (watermelon) vendor that drives around from block to block yelling through a microphone for you to be enticed and persuaded to run up and purchase fruit because his sales tactic is so ingenious that you cannot help yourself to the resident rock thrower that will toss small pebbles at you and then extend his hand out for some money in order for him to stop his irritating assault. The daily humor that I come across produces smiles and stories that even I find hard to believe at times if it weren’t for witnessing them first hand.
Talking with the locals I’ve realized that there is still several more weeks of the quiet season before the chaos and influx of travelers once again return to SJDS. And, while some business owners show the concern on their faces, most have learned to weather the ups and downs of operating a business here over the years and tell me to enjoy this quiet period, which I’ve learned to embrace by visiting various friends at the hostels around town. The most recent has been visiting Tyla and Brie with a lazy day of watching old school Simpsons episodes amid the few gloomy and rainy days. Spread out on the couches it reminds me of the love for this show that I shared with good friends back home. If only you told me a year ago that I’d be lazily sprawled out in a hostel tv room with a Canadian and an Aussie laughing at the Leftorium while just inches away is a section of sliding glass doors with a view of the Pacific, I would not have believed it myself. And while the sunsets in Colorado are beautiful in their own manner, I’m unsure that they can match what I’ve been fortunate enough to have seen on almost a daily basis.
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