The Journey Home
40 days, 40 nights since we set off on this trip. It was a pretty big time of transition in my life, and still is, as I prepare to change universities in the fall. I made the decision to do this literally days before we left for this trip, which sent me into a whirlwind of paperwork and necessary communications hours before leaving the country. I chose to leave everyone and everything behind, twice. Now, looking back on all of this on the very last day of our journey, despite being one of the most difficult decisions I have ever made, I can see the perfection in the way it all happened.
It's been 40 days of backpacking, and while this wasn't my first experience living as such it was my first time traveling with a partner. Nick and I have both loved this trip, and we've got along splendidly, but by the final portion we were both ready to go home. After hiking Volcán Telica in León, Nicaragua (see last post), we headed south to Isla Ometepe to visit an old friend who I met on my gap year. Intending to stay only a weekend, we found ourselves in such good company that we ended up staying 8 days.
We had both expended nearly all our funds during our time in Utila, and it was so wonderfully comforting to spend time with my friend Alcides and his family, as they welcomed us into their home and showed us infinite hospitality. Much can be said about this week, as much happened: Nick learned to ride a motorcycle as we careened around a dormant volcano on dirt roads, I got the worst hangover I have ever experienced and a subsequent 48-hour fever, did some woodworking, and visited the spiritual community that was my home for a time during my gap year.
Oh, and by the way we ran with 10 raging bulls as part of a local celebration! About 50 local men had scaled a wire fence and were running around taunting yet carefully avoiding a bunch of angry bulls that had been released into the arena. It was the strangest show of man vs. animal that I have ever seen, with a strong machismo undertone. We decided to give it a shot. Here we are in the arena:
Despite all this fun we had to move on, still yearning to return home. We bid goodbye to good friends, moving down the coast to Sámara, Costa Rica. As always the transition from Nicaragua to Costa Rica was shocking, as brightly colored chicken buses gave way to shiny greyhound-like buses and the number of personal cars on the road skyrockets. Sámara is a small beach town where we found ourselves struggling to stay within our budget, holding on for dear life as the final days approached. The goal was to refrain from using the ATM until we met up with my parents, also on vacation in Costa Rica, a few days before the flight. We managed to stay close, but Costa Rican price tags are nearly the same as the U.S. - something I forgot to account for. Still, we managed to find some absolutely gorgeous places:
We surfed, talked some politics with a British Marine, and went on a foraging expedition to a nearby beach where we encountered a crocodile infested estuary.
Finally, after 18 hours traveling, we made it home to Boston Logan International, maybe just a little bit ready to go home.
Thanks for reading, as always, it's a pleasure to share the adventure!
Much love,
Noah

















