Late Night Travel Tales from Managua, Nicaragua
All is well on Little Corn, wrote this in Managua moments before the internet connection died…
Sit here alone in a deserted food court in the Managua, Nicaragua airport while waiting for a 6:15am flight to the Corn Islands. Ahhh to be on the road again, I can taste the freedom as thick and pungent as the humidity that slaps your face like a piece of past due pork the moment you walk off the plane. That smell is what makes some feel at home in any strange part of the world that has never been cold, ever. When you’re on the road anything can happen and that is part of the allure.
Hanging out with family has been priceless and if you’re doing a long row of flights and need to purchase things that require their own suitcase, do it later in the chain – yes? Like a foolish mule I bought all my gear in Canada and then bought a travel case. Not only did I have to pay extra luggage fees from Ottawa – Boston but they have “Dick’s Sporting Goods” down there and could have picked up everything considerably cheaper. Keep that in mind should you ever find yourself in such a situation.
Besides this internet connection, literally have nothing to do so have begun drinking coke aggressively. I loathe caffeine as it’s a cheap buzz that keeps simple minds at work but there is little else to do besides jumping jacks with golf clubs in your right and fishing rods in your left. Managed to bring down a case that looks best fitted for a bazooka containing 3 golf clubs and 5 fishing rods.
Lofty plans are floating around the top of the A-Frame retrofitted cottage that is my brain, will build the very first golf course on Little Corn Island and the admission will be free. Also besides having strong rods with thick lines and hooks that emo kids use for suspension, have a fly fishing rod. I quite enjoy hanging out in airports, they give me time to think. Finding myself in Managua late night is becoming routine due to the countless cheap flights that leave and arrive at most manic hours.
Fly fishing is the final frontier for a fisherman(ok, not so sure about that), it’s a classy sport and you need to “become the fly” so to speak. It looks very difficult but I just happen to be acquainted with a distinguished Canadian gentleman named Brandon who runs Little Corn Fly Fishing. He is a real professional from what I have heard. Supposedly there are monster tarpon that rarely bite and bone fish galore which put up some of the best fights you can ask for, yes!
I could ramble on but it’s time for me to deal with this exhaustation(sic) station that I’m currently filling my tank for excitement with. You can spend your life in a straight line or zig zag through egregious highs and lows, they each have distinct pros and cons.
Oh yeah, the 16th of March was 30 months of perpetual travel, who would have thought?
Tips hat with a Latino lust for life,
P.S: Suitcase also has backpack inside it, used for bulk transport and nothing else.