Monday morning. I wake up in my favorite room, overlooking
the ocean out of bed. Those couple days of rain has turned Nicaragua into a completely different world.
I see green wherever I look, insects and birds humming loudly. I nourish myself with oats and fresh fruits, and teach my firstyoga class at Maderas Village after a 2-month break. The energy is great and my client is super happy. I hang out afterwards, chatting with friends, working for Surfbikini, eating delicious food. I meet a professional photographer who promises to make pictures of my house that I’ve been building the past months, the next day. At midday I go home, content about a productive morning. It’s time for the beach. I’m 26 and this is my life. My LIFE. My daily life. I’m feeling so happy to have chosen to live a life I sincerely enjoy living.
The house I’ve been building, see the entire house here
But as it always goes, whenever you get taken away by happiness, Nicaragua slaps you in the face letting you know that it can’t be all paradise. Last year I wrote a blog about my friends fiancé drowning. Now, 364 days later, a similar horrific scene happens. A young French couple get into a riptide and the guy drowns, despite 5 guys on surfboards trying to rescue him. The ocean strikes again. And again, no one who knows what to do.. 5 police men sitting at a table on the beach all day, 3 fire men are standing on the rocks all afternoon. 2 boats are searching, but so far without luck. No sight of divers, jet skis, lifeguards or any other form of useful help to be found. I do the least I can do; left my phone number with the girlfriend, offering her my house if she needs a quite space, Spanish translation and knowledge of how things go around here, and, unfortunately, the experience of a similar situation. After 2 days the body is found.
Wednesday. I’m struggling. I find out my guard just fucked up a whole day of work + $50 dollars of materials on the roof. Right after I find him on his phone while the roof is covered in pools of water that at that very moment are leaking through my roof. I’m having a hard time not to lose it on him.
I’m working for Surfbikini a bit, but soon go to sit down in my room to meditate. Tears are streaming down my face right away loaded with all the realization that kicked in the past days. I talked an hour on Skype to my recent exboyfriend that morning. A person I can’t even begin to describe. An incredible talented painter, musician, father with an unlimited amount of caring. His eccentric looks, long dreadlocks, African clothes, covered in tattoos, is not even close to the eccentricity of his personality. A person being introduced to pretty soon after I arrived in Nicaragua, with my first thought being: ‘Really, I feel no need to meet this kind of people’. But soon we became friends, which turned into a friendship, into him being my best and unmissable friend here. Being one of the very few people who understood Europe well, but most of all understood Nicaragua. It’s harshness it can bring. A half year of friendship went on into half a year of relation. And aren’t relationships always the most confronting learning opportunities. It’s been half a year of doubting from my side. Not about him, but about me. Because where do you actually really stand when you’ve moved to a second-world country? What’s the plan? Who and what are you, Dutch? Nicaraguan? Someone in between who is lucky to have multiple homes or someone who is stuck in the middle? How much of ‘home’ do you give up to live to the fullest in your new country? Could I ever go back to a life of clocks, offices, arrangements, expectations, would I even want to be able to?
With my (ex)boyfriend having a very clear vision, a house in the middle of the jungle, mixed with regular travels to Europe to keep in balance, but definitely his base camp here: Nicaragua, nature, no expectations, only enough money, no schedules, only happiness, I didn’t know anymore where I stood.
It’s the eyes that see the beauty of nature,
and the hearts that see the beauty in others
Now being back from Holland for 2 weeks, I realize that maybe I never want to live in Holland anymore. I’d like to visit, enjoy, spend time with family and friends, keep the bonds. But I can’t compromise anymore. I can’t be without nature anymore. Can’t be on a time schedule.
I don’t want to listen to music through earphones at work or in the 30 min I’d be home before going to a job. I don’t want to sit behind a desk all day with the only moment to look forward to that day being a yoga class in an indoor studio at set times. I wanna live music. I wanna live movement. I wanna live nature. Live without a clock. Meditate whenever I feel like it, cause I can make time for it no matter what hour a day or night. Dance any night I like, without having to think about the next morning. And my life in Nicaragua is exactly just that.
I’m off. Dancing in my living room at the middle of the day, in a house where no one can see me, but I see the world: the ocean, the sun, trees in bloom. Living my dreamlife I’ve envisioned and created.
My view on the world
See you next week!
Next week: Sleeping under the stars
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