In nearly twelve hours, I'll be arriving in San Salvador, El Salvador, aboard a night flight from San Francisco. From there, it's just a quick hop to Managua, Nicaragua, then a bus ride up north to Esteli.
I must admit, it feels a bit strange going back to a country where I was just six months ago. I spent a little more than a month in Nicaragua this past December and January and had an incredible experience there, mostly because of the time I spent studying Spanish in the remote mountain community of Lagartillo. For those interested in hearing more about my time in Lagartillo, please check out my earlier posts. After returning to the states, I was happy to be back but scheming about returning to Nicaragua, hoping to stay longer in Lagartillo. My dream of spending many months there turned into a month long trip, now I am only going to be in Nicaragua for two and a half weeks. Life--recovering from a hernia surgery and having to find a new place to live--kept me from going down to Nicaragua for a longer time. Despite this, I am still grateful to be able to take this trip, since I am unsure at what point I'd be able to return in the future.
One of the most difficult things about being abroad is coming back to one's home country. I found out this the hard way after I studied abroad in Turkey during college. It's very tough to become used to a way of life and attached to people somewhere, then have to leave, unsure of whether a return will be possible. I approach this current trip with the same trepidation. I really appreciate the people of Lagartillo especially, I enjoyed immensely my time with them and have found memories of them. It will be good to see them again, even for a shortened time. It will be difficult to leave them. As much as I like Nicaragua, and care about the people of that country, I understand, especially after my post-Turkey experience, that my life is here in the US, and it's not the right path for me to choose that would mean constant traveling to and fro, having a split life. Furthermore, given the constraints of money, at this point I am not making saving for travel a big priority, even though it's a great thing to be able to do. I have to travel enough to visit family.
It was only 24 hours ago when I arrived back here in Oakland. I spent the past few days visiting my sister and brother in law in Montana. I had a wonderful time, we visited four hot springs, checked out some spectacular countryside and stayed dry despite heavy rains. The Pioneer Mountains area was especially wonderful--we soaked in the rustic, algae lined pools of Elkhorn hot springs, spent an afternoon playing 'Settlers of Catan' next to a wood stove in a rustic cabin, then looked for crystals the next day and went on a hike through wide parks that offered spectacular mountain views. It was great to spend time with family too, and get away from this sometimes-overwhelming Fruitvale district
(you can view the pics here: http://picasaweb.google.com/rfadam/Montana2009#)
Yesterday's bus ride on AC Transit provided a taste of travel in Central America; in some ways, this district of Oakland has more in common with Managua than it does with Montana. The first bus wound circuitously through Bay Farm island (never had been there before), then to Alameda and eventually to Fruitvale BART station. At the station, I had to transfer to another bus (the 53) to take me the last short bit up Fruitvale Avenue. The bus was crowded: lots of little kids, some seniors, moms with bags of laundry, some youth eating greasy, smelly Chinese food. The four Latino youth I shared the standing room with could have easily been in a Nicaraguan bus. I was in that strange space that is Fruitvale.
My nights here in the Fruitvale are numbered. I am moving to South Berkeley not long after I return from Nicaragua in mid-July. It's not a move I chose to make: our landlord is moving into the house August 1st. But neither is it entirely an unwanted move. As much as I appreciate the cultural diversity and vibrancy of this neighborhood, I still feel like a traveler here, and it is not a place I can really call home. Part of this stems from the violent crime: there was a drive-by with semiautomatic weapons a few blocks from us on a Saturday night a week and a half ago. The prevalence of violent crime, though it hasn't directly impacted me, is not something I live under easily. No one should have to live in a neighborhood of violent crime, and I have deep sympathy for the people who have no other place to go. But I am using my priveleges to head for a less violent home where the businesses within walking distances are not just taco trucks and phone card shops. There is a lot I can write about my experience living here in Fruitvale, it's lead me to some very complex understandings about race, class and priveledge in the urban environment that I neither have the time nor frame of mind to discuss at the moment.
Stay posted for more updates from the land of Lakes and Volcanoes...
I must admit, it feels a bit strange going back to a country where I was just six months ago. I spent a little more than a month in Nicaragua this past December and January and had an incredible experience there, mostly because of the time I spent studying Spanish in the remote mountain community of Lagartillo. For those interested in hearing more about my time in Lagartillo, please check out my earlier posts. After returning to the states, I was happy to be back but scheming about returning to Nicaragua, hoping to stay longer in Lagartillo. My dream of spending many months there turned into a month long trip, now I am only going to be in Nicaragua for two and a half weeks. Life--recovering from a hernia surgery and having to find a new place to live--kept me from going down to Nicaragua for a longer time. Despite this, I am still grateful to be able to take this trip, since I am unsure at what point I'd be able to return in the future.
One of the most difficult things about being abroad is coming back to one's home country. I found out this the hard way after I studied abroad in Turkey during college. It's very tough to become used to a way of life and attached to people somewhere, then have to leave, unsure of whether a return will be possible. I approach this current trip with the same trepidation. I really appreciate the people of Lagartillo especially, I enjoyed immensely my time with them and have found memories of them. It will be good to see them again, even for a shortened time. It will be difficult to leave them. As much as I like Nicaragua, and care about the people of that country, I understand, especially after my post-Turkey experience, that my life is here in the US, and it's not the right path for me to choose that would mean constant traveling to and fro, having a split life. Furthermore, given the constraints of money, at this point I am not making saving for travel a big priority, even though it's a great thing to be able to do. I have to travel enough to visit family.
It was only 24 hours ago when I arrived back here in Oakland. I spent the past few days visiting my sister and brother in law in Montana. I had a wonderful time, we visited four hot springs, checked out some spectacular countryside and stayed dry despite heavy rains. The Pioneer Mountains area was especially wonderful--we soaked in the rustic, algae lined pools of Elkhorn hot springs, spent an afternoon playing 'Settlers of Catan' next to a wood stove in a rustic cabin, then looked for crystals the next day and went on a hike through wide parks that offered spectacular mountain views. It was great to spend time with family too, and get away from this sometimes-overwhelming Fruitvale district
(you can view the pics here: http://picasaweb.google.com/rfadam/Montana2009#)
Yesterday's bus ride on AC Transit provided a taste of travel in Central America; in some ways, this district of Oakland has more in common with Managua than it does with Montana. The first bus wound circuitously through Bay Farm island (never had been there before), then to Alameda and eventually to Fruitvale BART station. At the station, I had to transfer to another bus (the 53) to take me the last short bit up Fruitvale Avenue. The bus was crowded: lots of little kids, some seniors, moms with bags of laundry, some youth eating greasy, smelly Chinese food. The four Latino youth I shared the standing room with could have easily been in a Nicaraguan bus. I was in that strange space that is Fruitvale.
My nights here in the Fruitvale are numbered. I am moving to South Berkeley not long after I return from Nicaragua in mid-July. It's not a move I chose to make: our landlord is moving into the house August 1st. But neither is it entirely an unwanted move. As much as I appreciate the cultural diversity and vibrancy of this neighborhood, I still feel like a traveler here, and it is not a place I can really call home. Part of this stems from the violent crime: there was a drive-by with semiautomatic weapons a few blocks from us on a Saturday night a week and a half ago. The prevalence of violent crime, though it hasn't directly impacted me, is not something I live under easily. No one should have to live in a neighborhood of violent crime, and I have deep sympathy for the people who have no other place to go. But I am using my priveleges to head for a less violent home where the businesses within walking distances are not just taco trucks and phone card shops. There is a lot I can write about my experience living here in Fruitvale, it's lead me to some very complex understandings about race, class and priveledge in the urban environment that I neither have the time nor frame of mind to discuss at the moment.
Stay posted for more updates from the land of Lakes and Volcanoes...
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