when words are not enough

It's the last thing you expect to hear from a writer, but after more than 18 months in Nicaragua, I am beginning to feel that my words--carefully (and sometimes carelessly) constructed characterizations of my life in this country--are just not enough. Nor are the thousands of photos I have taken, as brilliant, colorful, or interesting they might be.

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Sure, I could write more about the regular crazy bus adventures I have which involve elbowing strangers, holding on for dear life when the driver makes an unexpected stop, smelling toxic fumes, and listening to the melodious (and sometimes cacaphonous) voices which clamor for my attention...or the amazing Nicaraguans I work with who are passionate about the transformation of their country (and also about having fun--lunchtime at the office is always a delightful combination of jokes I don't understand, ping pong, and intercultural sharing)...or the daily political drama that goes on between the Sandinistas, the Liberals, and the press--the different arguments over power, how to resolve the problems of poverty, corruption, and disease...or the shifting climate and environmental issues faced by this beautiful and richly blessed land of diverse fruits, plentiful forests, and rivers, due to global warming and pollution.

But the truth is, I don't want to just use words and one-dimensional photos anymore. I want you, dear reader, fall in love with this country for yourself. Walk its dusty streets, climb its green, green hills, kayak its lakes and rivers, look into the eyes of its persevering people, enjoy their music of marimbo and guitarra, listen to their poetic rhythms of speech, examine their art in murals and pottery.

Discover the natural beauty, historical tragedy, and redemptive qualities of this land of Nicarao, baho, and cacao.

Aay, Nicaragua, Nicaraguita. Tan linda, pero tan desconocida. Maybe one day you will understand. If you come. If you see for yourself.