Leaving.

April 4, 2009. Managua, Nicaragua.

Today was the odd day of the trip. Ryan, myself, Clarence (one of our translators) and Erika (she heads up Rainbows scholarship program) drove up to Estili, which for all of you cigar enthusiasts out there is where most of the handmade Nicaraguan cigars are made. Rainbow supports a couple of children who attend a school for the blind there. We met the people who run the school and two of the students that they sponsor and drove back. It’s about a two ½ hour drive one way, so there was time to kill.

Most of the road was the same road that Ryan and I drove yesterday, so as far as filming much scenery, I already had it. So, having fresh in my mind the lack of connecting I’ve been able to do on this trip (with Nicaraguan’s that is) I decided to play 20 questions. Well, really I just played ask questions and get people talking until we get home. Here’s the trick, Clarence speaks English, Erika does not…so Clarence had to repeat everything everybody said, including himself! I felt sorry for him. But we seriously had a great conversation about Nicaraguan culture and the work of Rainbow and the future and so on. Some questions were silly, some were serious. It was a truly fun conversation to have, and the element of being able to communicate effectively with someone who doesn’t even speak the same language was amazing.

So after we arrived back to the hotel, Clarence and Erika said their goodbyes and went to get a taxi. All day Ryan and I had apologized to them for having them work on their day off, and we both felt bad about it. I had been thinking that it would be a good gesture for us to buy them lunch, so I ran out to them and asked them if was ok to feed them lunch. I said I would feel better if they would let me. Naturally, they did…who turns down a free lunch? So the four of us headed over the airport (which is across the street) because the airport has a food court that is open to the public and it’s cheaper than the hotel restaurant. We all ate at a place called Tip Top, it’s like KFC. Our conversation continued there, but it was defiantly more humorous and not serious, just plain relationship building, ordinary conversation. Who knew a normal conversation could be so much fun?

This evening was a bit different. We interviewed Keith here at the hotel. This is his last trip as president. He officially steps down in two weeks. He said today was good, tomorrow will be very emotional for him. He is cleaning out his office and taking some stuff home that he’s had down here for 14 years! I can’t imagine.

It’s been an interesting trip. I can’t say that I recommend being the camera man, audio man, director, producer all at the same time. It’s really not very effective. I know I got the job done, but I would have done it better with help. There is always next time.

For those of you who have traveled much, the last day in a country is always a hard one. You want to leave, but you don’t. You feel like you’ve learned so much, yet you know you don’t really know very much. There are so many things you are glad you did, and so many things you wish you would have done. There is so much work to be done here, and you know that you are going to go home and distance yourself from what you’ve experienced. You know that there is no way to describe your experience to anybody, and you almost fear that conversation, yet at the moment you can’t think of anything else to talk about. You’ve been immersed in a culture and tomorrow you will step into an airport and leave that culture and that mindset literally at the door. Yet, when you get home and get off the airplane and step out of the doors of a different airport part of you really wishes that part of that culture and atmosphere will meet you there…and it doesn’t. The brain flips out. Some of us control it better because we are veterans and we’ve become numb.

You feel very rich when you are here, yet when you get home, you don’t feel it anymore. You feel very poor and somehow less ‘real’ than when you left (at least those us who by American standards are actually poor). I can’t imagine what someone who is rich feels like. Probably a bit like shit, but that would all depend on their nature and how they use their wealth. I’m not trying to belittle the rich; I plan to be one of them. I am merely stating that I think it might be harder for them in some ways to see their wealth against the backdrop of people who live in a mud hut. The difference between them and me is that they are more likely in a position to help than I am. This is where I feel like shit…there, now we are all even and feeling the same way.

There is a great story happening here. Furthermore, there are great stories happening everywhere. Look for them. Let them inspire you to change you. Be a part of the story, your page is waiting for you to pick up ink and write something.