Click to read part 1
My goal was simple. I wanted to be able to be more or less self-sufficient at any given time without weighing myself down in excess. To live without comfort would be fine, even welcome, so long as I came back with ten fingers and ten toes (preferably mine).
So everything I took fit into a common backpack. For reference sake, I'll list what I brought with me:
Three shirts, two pairs of pants, 8 socks, 4 sets of underwear, and boots, all sprayed down with mosquito repellent, a first aid kit, para cord, water purifier, hygiene kit, hammock, mosquito net, multi-tool, compass, high-speed phone case, nicorette (for obvious reasons), passport, and access to money, both Dollars and Cordobas.
Also, a knife that I was apparently going to use to slay dragons.
Maybe not that last bit...
Ladies and gentlemen, I present:
Okay, so let me explain the knife, and through that, my own fatalism and duality. I'm violent by nature. And nurture, for that matter. I'm a violent guy.
Here's the key: I don't act like it. Or on it.
I want to be remembered as a Good man, if not a Great one. I want to leave this place better than the way I found it, preferably with my impact lasting far longer than I do. I think the best way to actualize that is through respectful communication.
But I'm always secretly hoping that, while I'm waiting in line at the post office or a grocery store, a Bad Guy shows up, not so that I can be the hero, but so that I can bask in a little gore and sweet, sweet justified brutality, free of restraint and free of charge. Oorah.
But this knife was a bit much. I bought it in frantic mania, with the idea that I would keep it concealed on the inside of my backpack, listening to it sing promises even as it wore a hole into me.
Mania, man. It's a hell of a drug...
Anyway, once it came in the mail, I laughed, both to and at myself, and bought a smaller folding knife that looked like lava formed to fit your hand. It was beautiful.
Here's the thing, though: Brandishing a knife to a potential assailant in Nicaragua is literally the equivalent of bringing a knife to a gun fight.
But deep down, to me at least, that's a hell of a way to go. Being a violent man, I'd be a fool to ignore the potential that I'd meet a violent end.
Might as well meet it weapon in hand.
But we'll get to that later.
The next step was to go to the doctor to get whatever vaccinations I needed, along with anti-malaria pills, which, given my past experiences, wasn't something I was looking forward to.
I took Meflaquin for my first tour in Afghanistan. The nightmares were so bad that by the second deployment, I just didn't take them. I would rather have gotten malaria. But he gave me something else entirely, so I acquiesced. However, while I was there, this happened:
Before you get too angry, I know that everyone in the military is going the same way. I have good friends that have been in each branch. And nurses work just as hard as doctors, the mortar to medicinal practice. But it happened, so there you go.
Next was brushing up on my Spanish. I'd taken a couple of years in college and was able to get by in casual conversation. Plus, I had two translation apps on my phone, so yo no estaba preocupado. Worst case scenario, it takes a little longer to get my point across.
That's another story for later.
I also wanted to make sure I didn't have any debt before I left.
If something were to happen to me, I wanted a free conscience, if for no other reason than to meet God, look him in the eye and say "Your move."
From there, I said goodbye to my parents, toasted with my friends, basked in the little bit of time I had left with my dog, and rode with my girlfriend to the airport. Granted, having a girlfriend meant the volcano thing was out of the question, but that wasn't really why I was going. I was going so that I could break myself down, both the violent and good parts, to mend them into something I could live with.
Now that's a story.
And, like so many other potential story arcs that popped into my head throughout my stay, this wasn't what actually happened.