you're so far around the bend

Somewhere along the border between Nicaragua and Costa Rica is a boy wearing a Boys' State Kansas t-shirt.

Somewhere in this house, sitting at this computer is a boy wondering what the hell just happened in the past two weeks.

For starters, there simply aren't words to describe everything I felt, learned, experienced in the past two weeks. Unfortunately, there aren't pictures that capture everything as well. I can say however that every night that I spent in Pataste de Delicias, just like every night I spend here in Santa Marta, I went to bed wondering how I ever got to where I am now, how anyone could possibly be this fortunate, and how am I ever going to repay the world back.

The following are a few excerpts from my journal while I was gone (I'll post more later).

9/27
Yesterday I arrived in Upala where I was picked up by a sister whose nose comes to about my elbow and whose accent I could not pick up at all. We hitched a cab to Pataste, which cannot really be described as a town because it consists of one dirt road with maybe ten houses spread along it for a kilometer. Most of these houses are occupied by my family, the Arista Silvas. As it turns out, Hilario, the patriarch of 82, had fifteen children, many of whom have children of there own.

I am currently staying in a house which is about fifty meters from the main house, where everyone gathers to eat, watch t.v., etc. I also discovered that I kicked my sister, the one who picked me up, out of her room. Great. This sister, Isabel, happens to be 33. I could have sworn that she was my age or younger; perhaps there's something in the water. I only know her age because my uncle/brother-in-law Omar has been incessantly trying to get me to marry her since minute one. Omar assured me that not knowing much Spanish was not a problem, all I really need to know is "amor, quiero comida" (love, I want food). She is cute, and very helpful; but she could also be my mother.

I thought things couldn't be more awkward until Omar gave Isabel some cash and sent us to the bar. First dates are awkward enough when you a) know the person b) know what they're talking about and c) didn't just meet them two hours before. It looks like I'm going to have my hands full while I'm here. On my way to bed Isabel let slip that Omar said that I should plan on sleeping much tonight. Oh dear lord.

And that's pretty much life. I wish I was an extrovert, but I'm not. Hell, I wish I was an introvert; maybe I wouldn't feel as bad about not being an extrovert. I'm just sociable enough to recognize that I can just be plain awkward.