A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall

I’m off. After a 9 o’clock wake up for my 11 am flight I am airborne over Evansville, Indiana. How do I know this you ask?, because the pilot felt the need to tell us all this very mundane detail. Look man, we all know we are going to Miami, it says so on the ticket, no one cares what cities we are flying over. If you’re heading over the Grand Canyon or the Great Wall of China ok; but were crossing Appalachia, not much doing in the hollers and corners from this altitude.

I’m nervous. I’m out on my own heading to a country that I can modestly speak the language of and not all that sure what is going to happen. At the same time I could not be more excited. I have no idea what is going to happen, and that is a great feeling sometimes. It’s in these moments that life is most clearly palpable; with my past and my future precisely divided.

These experiences are things that I have always needed, to chart off into the unknown and figure it all out as you go. It forces one to be present in the moment; you don’t really have the luxury of being concerned with the future because the present is so demanding of your constant attention. “Keep your eyes wide open” I’ve been told. We (US citizens) have so much to learn from other cultures that often are mistakenly labeled as backward or underdeveloped, as in when they are labeled “Third World.” To be clear, the term “Third World” was a self-imposed term that came about during the period of non-alignment after the end of the Second World War in opposition to the socio-economic situation present on the 1st World (capitalist nations) and 2nd World (aligned with the Soviet Union). It is used today in an almost derogatory way, and it often blinds us to the beauty and simplicity present in these societies.

A different way of being is what I expect to encounter and incorporate some aspect of into my own way of being. To go into the world without bringing some part home with you is a wasted trip. It’s the reason we all share the common language of laughter, hope, fear and love. Our language may be different, but all of us can experience and sense these emotions no matter where we are and whom we are with. I’m setting out on a course that many have taken throughout history, the journey both into the world and into one’s own soul or mind, whatever you want to call it. It’s the path that people have chosen in search of answers, freedom, adventure or fulfillment whatever the reason it feels like I am connected in some way to that spirit. The gaze out into the unknown with all of life out on front is the one that I am sharing with millions of others throughout all of time.

I’m hitting the ground running. I land at 6:30 pm and then I gotta figure out how to get to El Casa San Juan. I called yesterday, “Hola. Hay una persona que hablas ingles?” “No.” “Entonces,…” So, I think I have a room for ten days, but I could be wrong. I’ve got a meeting with the Director of the Historical Archives Institute in the morning to find out what exactly I can access to do my research. I had wanted to listen to tape recordings from the Sandinista Literacy Campaign of 1980 but was told I cannot because they are too fragile. So, now that my main source of information is not available to me, I really have no idea what I am going to be able to figure out and who I will be able to speak with.

That’s where it stands as of 2 o’clock Monday afternoon mid-flight, Tuesday this time could yield a very different situation; let’s hope for the best.