Rainstorms and Dancing Fireflies

Last night was our final evening on Ometepe Island.  We were having dinner in the open-air restaurant at the place we’ve been staying when all of a sudden there was a violent and deafening hammering on the metal roof.  A rain storm!  I rushed outside in the dark, opened my arms and tilted my head to the sky, letting the warm downpour soak me to the bone.  The young Australian backpackers in the restaurant thought I was mad, no doubt, but I didn’t care — it was delightful!  In fifteen minutes the rain subsided and the moon was strong enough to illuminate the clouds covering the volcano.  The fireflies in the garden reappeared and danced like moving white Christmas tree lights.  What a magical way to spend our last night on Ometepe, which is an indigenous word meaning “Place of two volcanoes.”

It was hard saying goodbye to Carlos, the owner of El Encanto, this morning.  For the three nights we stayed at his place we spent the evenings talking late into the night with this fascinating man.  Originally from El Salvador, he had been a guerrilla fighter during the revolution there.  Since those years, he has lived in Mexico, Guatemala, Canada and the US.  An ardent amateur botanist who cares deeply for the land, he has created a little paradise on his 12 acre spread, nurturing his plants and all the animals those plants attract like they are his children.  It was really special getting to know him and talking plants, birds, volcanoes, politics, philosophy, travel and the overall state of the world with this lovely, soulful man.  That’s the only sad part of travel, you meet wonderful people that you eventually have to say goodbye to….

This morning we boarded the Che Guevara ferry for the ride back to the mainland, then shared a taxi with a young Australian woman and a young Scottish man who have been on the road for well over a year for the ride to the Pacific Coast town of San Juan del Sur.  We’re here for three nights so you’ll hear more about it over the next couple of days.

Much love,

Jan

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