Although it was not always the case, rain had a peculiar way of changing my mood. It would bring a certain melancholy mixed with a hint of nostalgia and it would bring upon me an indistinct sadness that I carried with me like a rotten bag of potatoes over my shoulders. At times, this sadness, this vague loneliness would seep into my being like drops falling into an empty jar, somewhere in the darkness echoing regrets and past wounds. It was raining in paradise tonight. It was raining hard, with drops that hurt and were like small relentless darts piercing the ground. But tonight, oh tonight that jar that was hidden in the depths of my private solitude, that jar that was always thirsty for the melancholy and sadness was filled with the love of her breath, the warmth of her body and with each kiss, each splendid “I love you” sadness packed up and took it’s cold torturous hands, once used to chilling even my bones, and left. This was our first rainy night as a married couple and I, for the first time, felt whole when it rained.
It was a night tempered by furious winds from the sea and lighting streaks across the dark sky. The sound of the rain was fighting a losing battle with the sound of thunder rolling from one side of the punished island to the other. If the clouds were God’s wooden floors, then that night He was moving furniture around; that’s how the stern, harsh sound of rolling thunder sounded. We would be awakened by the recurring thunderclap that sounded like shattering crystals across the infinite sky. We could hear objects of all kinds flapping, pieces banging into the thinning palm trees which were fighting the heavy winds. I was more at peace than Monica. She was freaking out. Any major roar in the sky from thunder and she would twitch in her sleep.
In case you didn’t notice on the previous video I posted earlier, our love shack doesn’t have any lock, so essentially any one could at any point walk right in. As we were sleeping, Monica whimpered silently with fear. She made that sound that a frightened child would make. Her breathing increased exponentially, it felt as raging as the wind outside, but instead of the furious breathing of the sea, it was a breathing that cried of desperation. And then she made that sound: It was a genuine, gut-filled, blood rushing, breath-taking, my-life-is-flashing-before-my-eyes type of panicked shriek! She was wide awake, almost crying. “What’s wrong,” I urgently asked. “Someone is grabbing my feet!” she exclaimed panic-stricken. I searched in the darkness of the night for a silhouette of a perpetrator. And with all the wind that was angrily blowing through our love shack, the waves hammering the sand, the flapping of the leaves from the palm trees, the thunderclap, the lightning and the torrential rains this was a perfect setting for a horror movie. I narrowed my eyes and saw no movement by the door, no shadows among the shadows. Then a flash of lightning revealed nothing. I asked Monica if she wanted me to turn the light on. She whimpered again. My hand reached slowly towards the light and I felt Monica hold her breath in suspense, as if waiting to scream in terror. If this was a movie, there would have been that ominous sound of a violin or Psycho theme soundtrack as the camera focused on my hand slowly turning the light on and then it would have focus on her fear-gripped eyes as she hid her lower face behind the covers waiting to see the midnight foot masseuse at her feet.
And as you might have guessed it, it was nothing. I explained to her that the chances that a man was going to cross the jungle in the middle of the night, during a raging storm, only to come and give her a foot massage was very rare, almost next to impossible, and that that man would only be me. I must admit that she does have nice feet, but c’mon. As it turns out, luckily for her, her midnight foot masseuse happen to be me anyways. Well, sort of. You see, every time there was a loud thunderclap, Monica would twitch. It was like an automatic reaction or reflex. So, I thought she was having a nightmare, and like any loving husband, I moved closer to her and with my lonely feet caressed her tiny feet. I was only seeking to comfort her, to shield her from her own dreams. Little did I know this simple action of love was going to make us feel as if we were about to star in our own (very fake) horror movie sketch. After laughing about it, we went back to sleep with the soundtrack of nature’s rage.
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Day 3. Paradise at Last! I woke up around 5AM because we were told that the sunrise was between 430 and 5AM. I missed it. It was bright; the sun was already out, which was quite disappointing. I zombied my way back to the bed and fell back asleep. We got up later on around 7 and started packing. We put everything in zip lock bags of all sizes. We were preparing for the worst. If the boat that was carrying us to Little Corn Island capsized, at least our stuff was going to be dried. We grabbed a taxi and went to the municipal wharf, which didn’t really look like a wharf at all. I guess it did, since it had a very small pier. As soon as we got there, we met a group of American girls. These girls were hardcore! Some of them spoke very good Spanish, some had been up and down Central America experiencing the culture in its raw form, and I based that solely on the experienced traveler look they had and all the kinds of medicine they carried. I mean, they had medicine to outlast any outbreak of some mutating virus directly from the jungles of Africa. They even offered us some of their field tested Extra strength Immodium for the “just in case” scenario. After a while of waiting for the “Skipper” to load the shipment of vegetables and other items that were to be taken to Little Corn, we boarded the small boat. We were undecided as to which side of the boat we should take. Do we take the front, where you take most of the hits and are sure to bounce all over the place? Or do we take the rear where it’s more stable but will get wet? After Monica decided at the last minute to go to the local pharmacy, we had no choice but to go the front because when we got back to the boat, everyone had already taken the back. We rode into the surf. I must say that it wasn’t as bad as I expected. I expected everyone to be throwing up left and right, for women and children to be crying, for waves to be hitting us from all sides, and as a married man: at least one near widow experience. Nope, none of that. We had bumps here and there and when we did everyone would laugh because Monica would scream like she was falling 90ft off the King’s Dominion’s Drop Zone. We got a bit wet, but the crowd in the back got very wet. I felt bad for some old man through whose face you could see the anguish he was going through.
The American girls we met. On the way to Little Corn Island.
As we got closer and closer to Little Corn Island, we were getting more and more excited as we saw the waters clear and become azure as we reached shallow waters . When we got there, we put our stuff on the pier. A scuba dive shop came along with many other business representatives asking us where we were staying and gave us a map of the island. Some guy was all over us. He kept saying the same thing over and over “Where are you going? I can take you. I’ll show you the way, follow me.” We told him we were going over to Derek’s Place, which we didn’t know was on the other side of Little Corn. So we did what goes against conventional wisdom. We decided to follow some unknown guy, in unfamiliar territory, into a jungle where there were no houses, no people, and nothing but a subtle fear that we were taking part of what could be one of those “based on actual events” horror films. No one would hear us scream if this guy would have been a machete-wielding psycho/entrepreneur who was in the business of selling tourist organs in the black market. All I could think about was the movie Turistas. If you haven’t seen it, it’s quite graphic and full of gore. Anyways, back to reality, we had all our gear in our backs which was about 50lbs a piece. We were very lucky to have new luggage that was very flexible and were the “Transformers of Luggage.” I am telling you, this luggage converted from a carry-on to a luggage on wheels with a pull out grip and finally to a backpack, a big backpack at that. (Thanks Dan and Carolina for this great gift! We wouldn’t have made it with any other!) We walked and walked and walked some more. The sun was beating us down and the heat of the jungle made us sweat. The 50 pounds on our back started to feel heavier and heavier.
Monica aka Rambo in the Jungles of Little Corn
We dragged deeper and deeper into the jungle. Monica was overwhelmed and I told the guide (and still suspected psycho killer) to take the luggage from her and to carry it. All these thoughts were crossing my mind. What if he’s making us walk to wear us down. What if he’s taking us somewhere where there will be others waiting to ambush us? What would be our plan in case anything went wrong? I said a quick prayer and kept walking. It made me feel a bit better that there was another couple following us. They were really struggling to keep up though. Our legs and arms got to meet the jungle’s mosquitoes on an intimate level as we walked for what felt like 40 minutes. But we kept walking. The suspected psychopath kept saying we were almost there, which we believed every time. We stopped at some plant that he claimed was a miracle plant. He said the locals used it for everything, from headaches, dehydration to even cancer. He picked up several big leaves and gave it to us. We continued on. Then the thick vegetation turned into palm trees as we heard the sweet symphony of waves crashing somewhere in the distance. We still couldn’t see the beach, but it was very exciting. We were getting closer and closer to paradise. We then saw the trees break open and the beautiful blue waters behind them. We walked towards the beach and were so excited, so happy, we were laughing. It was joy. It was relief. This guy wasn’t a killer! We were almost there! And paradise was upon us at last! We walked for a few minutes and then reached our destination.
Carrying a the luggage and a backpack... Whew! It was tiring!
A sneek peak of the beautiful beach Little Corn Island has to offer!
When we got there, we were greeted by Ana, the owner. She was very laid back. Verified who we were and told us to unpack and relax. Our guide, the former suspected organ dealer, stood waiting for his compensation. We asked him how much we owed him and he said 20. I was like wow, only 20 Pesos? That’s like $1. But then he was like, “No, 20 Dollars.” I gave the guy 100 pesos, equivalent to $5. I scoffed at his offer! $20 bucks! I would have understood $20 if he was carrying both our luggage, while providing some sort of transportation for us as well. Nicaragua is very cheap. This island was cheaper. He looked at me and thankfully took the dinero. Unfortunately for the couple that came with us, there were no huts available so they had to continue on with the guide (the would- have-been $20 hustler) onto a nearby place called Ensuenos, which we had only heard bad things about. We unpacked and let out a big sigh! We had reached paradise at last! Ana brought us some fresh opened coconuts with a straw. Who needs bottled water when you have fresh coconut water to quench the thirst? I laid on the hammock as Monica went inside our honeymoon love shack and unpacked. I was tired; exhausted, actually. But the trip was worth it. This place was amazing. It was a true paradise! The shade of the tall palm trees, the proximity to the beach, the cooling breeze of the ocean, even the way the ground felt with it’s mossy grass which felt like soft carpet, all added to the unique sensation that this was going to be unforgettable!
After unpacking, we didn’t do anything. We took a few pictures and laid in the hammock listening to the perennial sound of the breaking waves at the shore. We didn’t even bother to go in the water. That could wait. For now, all we needed was to enjoy this moment. Enjoy peace on earth. Let our thoughts flow with the wind that rocked the trees smoothly back and forth. Laziness and deep relaxation had settled in.
Enjoying a fresh coconut in paradise!
Amazing view (Check!), Ocean Breeze (Check), Hammocks (Check), Relaxation (Check!)
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