By the time we dragged our 8 bags into our room at Las Mercedes, we were close to meltdown. Our flight out of Maui had been cancelled, we had been re-routed and shuttled to a hotel where we managed to get 2 hours of sleep before dragging our bags back down to the airport for the next leg.

The worst part of the trip was the security checks, which involved bare feet on cold linoleum and getting “patted” down by unsmiling professionals in order to secure our safety. Please keep in mind that I have not flown anywhere on a big plane since 1999. After two of these episodes, I felt so insecure that I found myself avoiding eye contact with anyone wearing a jacket or a tie. Worse, I began evaluating people myself, wondering if that person in the cowboy hat and sunglass, for instance was the real threat behind all the fuss and should I be afraid of him or perhaps walk over and make a citizen’s arrest.

The security procedure involved removing our jewelry, jackets and shoes and placing them in gray plastic bins. Our laptop computer also had to be removed from its bag and placed in a bin. Then we stood in line for about 15 minutes, hugging ourselves for warmth and clutching our passports and boarding passes. After the contents of our bins and carry-on luggage were X-rayed, we were permitted to walk through the metal detector.

As if this wasn’t enough, we were then (for our safety) taken to a cubicle where our belongings and bodies were searched by hand. I found it impossible to smile during this procedure. I felt that if I didn’t take it seriously, the armed guard nearby would step up and arrest me.

After all was said and done, I felt a lot more insecure than I have in a long time and my appetite for traveling back and forth across the US border had shrunk to nil.

The next day, we got up at 4 a.m. again and started loading our bags. We flew from Managua to Bluefields, where we touched down and then on to Big Corn Island. A small taxi with broken door locks and Spanish music took us and all of our stuff across a potholed street in the rain, passing pedestrians with umbrellas.

Bob’s big toe on his right foot is black and blue. Two days ago, he slammed it into the old tool dresser he was cleaning out. It was so sore, he could hardly walk on it. This was bad timing, considering that the next day he would be bringing a flatbed truck up to the house and hauling away two loads of stuff.

We weren’t surprised he hurt his foot at this time. It isn’t unusual for us to injure our feet during a transition. It’s as if our bodies are trying to tell us, “Don’t move so fast, take a moment and think about what you are doing.”

For 6 weeks we have been planning and executing our relocation from Maui to Little Corn Island. During these 6 weeks, I’ve had two injuries, which caused me to limp. I also nearly cut off the tip of my thumb in the garden with a serrated cane knife.

We fly out tomorrow but that won’t be the end of the transition period. Stepping into our new life will be as stressful as stepping away from our old life has been. If at all possible, we’ll need to plan our movements, being extra careful how quickly we move and especially, where we put our feet.

Measured in rates per 100,000 people, we looked to the World Health Organization and Interpol for statistics. Here is what we found:

                  Nicaragua           United States             Costa Rica

MURDER…………..3.4……………….7.1…………………..7.2
(Washington DC has 41.8 murders per 100,000 people)

CRIME…………….1,750…………….4,161………………1,234

INCARCERATED….57……………….682……………..no data

SUICIDE…………….6.9………………21.7………………..11.8

The post IS IT SAFE? first appeared on Plastic Farm Animals.]]> https://troutsfarm.com/2004/12/07/is-it-safe/feed/ 0 1141 https://troutsfarm.com/2004/12/05/haole-aloha/ https://troutsfarm.com/2004/12/05/haole-aloha/#respond Sun, 05 Dec 2004 12:25:35 +0000 http://troutsfarm.com/?p=1134 It is Sunday. I go for a long walk. Sunday is a good day to walk because the traffic isn’t as bad. It is a bright, blustery, wet, winter’s day on Maui. I head off down Makawao Avenue, holding onto the bill of my ballcap to keep it from blowing off. For the first half […]

It is Sunday. I go for a long walk. Sunday is a good day to walk because the traffic isn’t as bad. It is a bright, blustery, wet, winter’s day on Maui.

I head off down Makawao Avenue, holding onto the bill of my ballcap to keep it from blowing off. For the first half mile, I step into the weeds when the cars come barreling up the street towards me.

Then I reach the sidewalk and start to really relax. I see a local woman with several children coming towards me. I give them the sidewalk. The little girl on the bike says hello and I return the favor. The woman comes next. She is pushing a stroller. I say hello and she looks my way without changing expression and walks past me.

I turn right at the intersection and start walking up the hill towards the rodeo arena. There are a lot fewer houses and cars on this street. I stop to gaze at a tiny pinto foal lying in the tall grass of a large pasture. A handsome bay mare grazes nearby. The foal twitches a few times but does not rise. I look at my feet and see a large avocado. I pick it up and it is unblemished.

Carrying my prize, I continue up the hill. A little further along, I stop to watch a shiny ring-necked pheasant picking its way across another pasture towards a fat pheasant hen.

A small car is coming down the hill towards me and I step into the weeds. It begins to slow down and keeps slowing down until I think it is going to stop. I am puzzled until, at the last moment I see the smile of the woman behind the wheel and realize she has slowed to pass me out of respect. She is also a local woman but what we call Haole here because she is white.

The post HAOLE ALOHA first appeared on Plastic Farm Animals.]]>

In 11 days, Bob and I leave Maui with no plans to return. A couple of days ago, I came across a road kill rat during one of my walks. It surprised me, not because I have never seen road kill, or dead rats, or even road kill rats, but because I realized this was the first road killed rat I had seen during my four years on Maui.

I tried to place the memory of my last road kill rat and realized it was on one of my last walks before leaving Guam (with no plans for return.)

I’m not sure what it means, but this morning I stepped out the back door with a full laundry basket and nearly stepped on a very large dead rat.

I am pretty certain this morning’s rat was an offering from the neighbor’s cat, ZZ. Strangely, we have lived here for 18 months and she has never given us a rat before.

What does it all mean? I offer a few possible explanations:

a) I sense the imminent end of my time in this place and am therefore more apt to notice the dead things around me. Why they happen to be rats is a mystery.

b) As the pace around us cranks into a frenzy of pre-holiday shopping gridlock complete with road rage, I feel like we are rats leaving a sinking ship.

c) This week’s rat sightings were triggered by the photos my sister-in-law, Debbie has been sending of their new pet rats.

d) ZZ senses our departure and wanted to give us something for the trip.

e) ZZ knows us better this year and with winter coming on, decided to give us a little something extra to eat.

f) I have an over-active mind. As someone recently said, “You think too much! You need to get a life!”

We collected pictures and words that were meaningful to us for a couple of months and then assembled them onto poster boards. We did this individually, and didn’t share the results until they were both completed.

Here they are, side by side.  First Bob’s and then Camille’s –

Both clearly have some common themes – Adventure, Nature, Food, Animals, and Love.

This wasn’t too surprising since we had been discussing exit strategies for a while prior to the storyboard exercise. The amazing thing is how much of what we visualized over 7 years ago has come to pass.

Maybe more on that later.

And now, we’re headed towards another Caribbean adventure in Nicaragua.

Imagine That!

Two nights ago, I dreamed Bob and I were picnicking on the beach with Shaun and Pam and another couple, probably Rick and Christine. It was a beautiful day and it was just the 6 of us. We were relaxed and enjoying each other’s company. Pamela was sitting on the rocks nearest to the water.

A little whale swam up and invited Pam to pet it. She reached out and it opened its mouth. Out came a long, black tongue. We were transfixed watching the interaction between Pamela and this friendly youngster.

All of a sudden, three huge ships charged into the bay and blocked the whale in. We were in shock. The little whale was able to escape. I heard Rick say, “There is a canal – it is getting out.” We were relieved but running as well. It was time to end our picnic and get out of there.

We all got into a car and soon found ourselves in horrific traffic. We were hemmed in by extremely large vehicles moving dangerously fast. It was nerve-racking. No matter what we did, we couldn’t escape. I looked behind us at a van and realized no one was at the wheel. Yet it was coming so fast we had to accelerate. The driver made her way from the back of the van up to the driver’s seat. She had been playing with a baby in a car seat back there. She was unconcerned and laughing at something her friend, who was also playing with the baby, had said.

We pulled into an alley and it was also packed with huge, dangerous vans, SUVs and pickups. Finally, we managed to pull over and get out. Then I woke up.