Excerpts From My Personal Journal

July 18th

7:00am: I got into a fight with a cockroach over who was going to have possesion of the toilet this morning. I won.

July 19th

The majority of the decorations on my walls are slug trails.

I saw a beetle the other day that resembled a miniature rhinoceros.

The Daft Punk sond "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger" could be an anthem for the Nicaraguan wildlife.

Itching our bug bites has become a way of life.

I found myself trying to imitate one of the common song birds around here, but I can't whistle; so, I got frustrated.

My host family's house cat is named Socrates.

One thing that unites all of us travelers in Nicaragua is that we share the common notion of not knowing why we're here exactly.

Most commented on subject: The rain.

It's what truly unites this country.

5:00am: woke up to the roosters call.

5:10am: Fell back asleep.

5:20am: Woke up to the abrasive howls of the Congo Monkeys.

The dogs here rub their behinds together in a kind of foreplay. They don't indulge in regular doggy style.

There is a cloud of flies that always follows the dog around. Other than the chickens and Socrates, They seem to be his only companions.

Eventually, they tell me, you start getting used to the cold showers. I'm beginning not to believe them.

There is a wasps nest connected to the roof of my room. The wasps are building two more. I hope it takes them longer than two months. There are stories that in rare cases they fly into peoples ears. They call them "catala".

They tell me there are large spiders in the jungle that bite the ankles of cows, and their ankles swell up so much that the cows tip over and die.

Since I've come here, my dental hygiene has improved. It might be because it gives me something that I feel is in my control.

I've been called "chele" here, the word for "white person". This is the only country that I've traveled to where I've been categorized as "white". I guess things are still black or white around here, or rather, Nicaraguan or white.

I don't romanticize about the "simple life" any more.

I try to adjust to my life here, but my bowels still desperately try to purge this country of its system.

Does anyone actually buy the water that people sell in little plastic baggies that are knotted off at the end?

You never really feel like you are a part of nature until you become a part of its food chain. My body feels like a walking buffet.

-Levi Sharpe