from augusto c. sandino international airport

Delayed flight. Free internet! A silver lining to my exhausted fog, the agony of being between. Between Gigante and Los Angeles, between two worlds and between decisions and future/past. While I’m still literally in the country of Nicaragua, being in this airport, air conditioned, expensive and English-speaking, I’m so far from Nicaragua; but even while I type I can watch beat-up cars zoom past on the Pan-American, taxis and the school buses transporting us from here to there. It took me longer to get from Gigante to Managua than it will from Managua to Miami… planes are weird things, incongruous in a world of walking down a dirt road to the beach and of old school buses that grind slowly along the highway. Wandering through the climate controlled airport, I get glimpses of a green Nicaraguan skyline, and yet already here they sell newspapers in English, and my breakfast just cost me $7.50. Advertisements and announcements in Spanish but everyone who works here speaks English, so I’ve already departed the Spanish-speaking world–since I look like a gringa, I’m spoken to in English, automatically. I shall miss existing in Spanish. (I’ve noticed that speaking so much Spanish, and teaching English, has changed my voice intonations, so that I speak English differently than I did five months ago. Bizarre.) 

There seriously is a cause and effect to all that we do. Just as I predicted, not even half a day after I exalted that the power had stayed on for so long, on my last day at Brio, the power-outage gods smiled their ironic grin. Nicaragua, always so considerate, gave me a big goodbye hug and turned the power off from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. on Friday, proving that someone is always listening. A day without power was actually a blessing in disguise. It forced me to just be, away from my computer and the worry of deciding my next move, Google searches and networking emails. Nope, just beach views and swimming and a long run. Time in the kitchen with Ioxlina and Jackie. And a lovely goodbye party in the evening. I finally decided not to decide anything, which was a big decision in and of itself. I’m hoping home will provide some clarity as to my next move. 

I am, however, still confused. I am having a hard time articulating my feelings, so I shall resort to infantile descriptions. I’m sad. I’m excited to be in the first world, at home home. I’m sad to leave a home in the third. I’m excited for family and friends–really excited for family and friends–but want to follow through with my new ones. I want to follow-through with this new Megan, with the changes I see in myself, and allowing those changes to just be, without notice or justification. I’m wondering if the culture shock of arriving into LAX in twelve hours may just kill me. And am just rather exhausted. A two-day ordeal to get home and I think I’ve had too much time to think and bum out about leaving and get excited to arrive. 

Honestly, when ever in my life will I be able to say (have I ever said) that I have no idea where I’ll be in one month’s time. Being 22 and free and the ability to say “I don’t know” is just about the best thing in the world right now. (Which I have to keep reminding myself in this return-travel haze.) Yay life! 

And now, I’m flying north.

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