Blues in the Jungle

This week I find myself outside Napa Valley in Northern California adjacent to the cliffs of the Pacific Ocean. Not so long ago, a blink in the moment of time, I was on the same coast in a very different country.
I moved into my jungle cabin at La Mariposa between the tiny pueblos of San Juan and La Concepcion after two weeks with my local family. From my bamboo and rock walls I looked out at the banana trees and listened to the monkeys each morning. I would fall asleep under the swaying mesh of a mosquito net while the bats flew through the room and squeaked their presence. Evenings were spent rocking in hammock chairs upstairs on a balcony overlooking gardens while new friends drank cheap rum, listened to great blues and waxed poetic about present experiences and future dreams.
My Spanish lessons momentarily stalled while I explored people, culture and land- never realizing that was part of the lesson too. I learned to let go. I danced every night with anyone that asked me and if no one was asking I grabbed a willing partner and moved to the sounds of Latin spice that made me come alive with ferocity.
I met people from this country that eagerly opened their lives, excited to share their friends and their culture. Ready to laugh and have fun anytime and push a little language lesson into my head over cold beer or orange Fanta in glass bottles. I visited with the family that prepared the maize for the tamales they sold on the street. After a stroll through town I stopped to purchase the finished product and revel at the amazing flavor.
After leaving La Concha I made my way to the Pacific Coast for a stay in San Juan del Sur. Walking along the beach, listening to the raucous waves crash against mighty rocks felt like coming home. The sun set in vibrant hues of orange, red and yellow over a white-capped sea. I spent the week in a quiet hostel where the surfers lounged around downstairs waiting for the next ride and the wind off the Pacific howled me to sleep.
Every morning started off at the local market eatery with a $3 breakfast of coffee, rice and beans with eggs, tortilla and avocado. Each day brought a new adventure. Sometimes it was exploring the rocks surrounding the coves to find a hidden cave. One day was renting a beat up bicycle for a bumpy ride out to a hidden beach to learn to fish and kayak surf the waves. Most days were capped off with (or sometimes begun with) a guava daiquiri on a patio overlooking the beach. One of the most memorable days was an impromptu fishing trip on a small boat where I caught my very first fish. Guided by local Nicaraguan dudes and a friend willing to let me use a fishing rod I trolled for fish in the Pacific. A pod of dolphins found us amusing and surrounded our boat as we followed the birds to the schools of fish swimming hidden below us. When we anchored next to a small rocky island within sight of Costa Rica I caught my first fish with a hand line and felt my world shift around me.
Once again I am changed by my adventure. Very little will ever compare to the romance I associate with listening to blues in the jungle with good people, feeling the tug of a fish at the end of a hand line rocking in the waves of the Pacific or sharing a piece of fruit with a family that just picked it off their tree. But of course I will continue to pursue that which brings such contentment to my soul.