When one travels incessantly, the question “where is home?” often prevails.
Sometimes places become home, sometimes, people are home, and just sometimes, “home” is a feeling.
Upon landing to Nicaragua for the forteenth time in seven years, this is how I felt:
…In that way in which one lands after never having slept…
In that way that thoughts and actions are nebulous and rookie mistakes like leaving my computer charger behind and inducing unnecessary sunburn are made.
I have landed in this place thirteen times in less than seven years.
I have returned to a place where I can get on the express bus and sit next to someone I had met atop a mountain years ago. It is a place where I am immediately allowed access to a world without Rush and a world that encourages Rest.
A medium-sized backpack and me and, of course, the perpetual wonderment of my wanderment.
Tomorrow we will welcome Barbara, Bonnie and Mark from Los Altos, CA!
And the 14th journey begins…