Like the sound of a bee hive, the buzz begins the moment my body leaves the plane. The onslaught of sound, color, and moment does little to dull the electricity pulsing through my veins.
A.T.M. Ignore taxis, stares. Find-Check.
Taxi, barter, wander. Find-Check.
The arrival in a new country after a traveling hiatus is an interesting mix of emotions. Is it possible to feel both shocked to the core and completely a home in the same moment?
Yes, my body sighs on the bus from Managua to Esteli.
Welcome home, I hear in the commotion of the bus station.
We’ve missed you, whispers the seat as I find my place.
The hell are you doing!! screams my brain as I watch the barrios* pass through the window.
Like a snake shedding skin, I step into my mochilera* persona. More than a year has passed since I last left Latino America, but my body remembers the rhythms. The change of pace. The excitement. The exhaustion. So easy it is to lose oneself while traveling. Or is the finding of oneself interpreted as a loss?
*barrio is like a neighborhood
* back packer