Take in your surroundings.

No matter where you travel, there is something different, amazing, and beautiful to see. Today I am sharing some more photos with you to make my point ... the point being: take it all in. And take some photos while you’re at it. I know some of you do not feel the need to have thousands of photos on your computer (or in my case, on my computer and in a huge rubber bin in storage). And I understand that. But I cannot abide by it. I love taking photos and I love looking at them when I return. This has been true since I was a little kid. So even if you don’t carry a camera when you travel, take a photo with your mind. Hopefully you will be able to preserve some great scenes like these:

One of the two volcanoes on the island of Ometepe in Lake Nicaragua in Nicaragua. 

The shore of Isla Ometepe.

A coffee cooperative on Isla Ometepe.

If you are too tired to refer to Wikipedia to find out more about Isla Ometepe right now (or ever), I will tell you a little bit about it. It is the largest volcanic island in a fresh water lake in all the world (and Lake Nicaragua -- also known as Lago Cocibolca, and a few additional names I will not list here -- is the largest lake in Central America). When I was there, there were almost entirely dirt roads and my guide took me around in a very necessary four-wheel-drive vehicle. Some cool things you can find on Isla Ometepe are howler monkeys, petroglyphs, and lovely people. And also peace and quiet. Unless a howler monkey is ... you know .... howling (although it sounds more like growling to me. Or roaring.) And also many things that make beautiful photographs for a frame, or simply your frame of mind. 

Open your heart.

It is almost Valentine’s Day and romance is in the air. Okay, maybe for some, blatant commercialism and feelings of obligated romance are in the air. Whatever the case, no matter what time of year, most people like a good love story, at least once in a while. Sometimes even a tragic love story.

In Xela, Guatemala, there is a local legend about a young gypsy girl named Vanushca Cárdenas who fell madly in love with a local boy from a rich family. Upon learning of their relationship and plans to marry, the parents of the rich boy forbade him to see her. They even sent him away to study in Spain. Vanushca was left behind, alone and broken hearted. She eventually died from that broken heart at a mere 17 years of age and was buried at El Calvario cemetery in Xela.

There are various stories as to how this all came to be and what happened to her beloved. I have heard that he returned shortly after Vanushca died, discovering that the love of his life was gone. And suffering from the same affliction as his sweetheart, he died right there at her grave, not able to live without her. I have also heard that he threw himself off the ship going to Spain, or that he perished in the war in Spain, and his death was the reason Vanushca died of a broken heart. I am inclined to believe that if anything, he died in Spain because Vanushca’s tomb reads, “The remains of the man I loved in life lie in Mother Spain.”

Vanushca’s gravesite is a popular place for visitors. Those who wish for luck in love come to pay tribute. So my friend Anna and I decided we would go and pay our respects. Why not? It couldn’t hurt. 

One day we met at the entrance gate to El Calvario and bought some flowers from a nearby vendor. We went to Vanushca’s gravesite and saw that many were asking her for advice and guidance; people had written requests for help right on the grave. There were flowers, some fresh and some dried from time, on the tomb. We just left flowers and took some time to read the wishes of anonymous souls looking for a little help. 

"Dear Vanushca, I have had bad luck in love all my life. Please
help me obtain good luck in love now and in the future.
What would life be without love ... "

When traveling, I love to learn about regional stories, tales, and folklore. They bring color to the local life, and sometimes even give hope to both locals and visitors. If you learn of such a story, as I did, find a way to make the story more personal. Participate and leave those proverbial flowers.

The story of Vanushca is tragic, like Xela’s own Romeo and Juliet. Vanushca died of a broken heart, so I’m not exactly sure why she would be the best person to ask for help with romantic problems. I don’t think she handled the experience very well quite frankly. Plus, she was helpless to do anything when her man was sent away. So she died. Instead of eating mass quantities of ice cream to drown the pain, she just died. Not a recommended outcome. Maybe the legend is based on the assumption that since she had suffered such a loss, she would know how to help keep others from the same fate. Maybe her broken heart in life enables her to help others in death. Maybe she didn't have access to decent ice cream back then. I don’t know. But it is quite a story nonetheless.

I cannot speak about any great revelation or happening due to my visit to the gravesite of Vanushca Cárdenas. But Anna, shortly after her return to the U.S., started dating the man who recently became her husband. Coincidence? Perhaps. Or perhaps just believing in the possibility helps make it a reality. Taking part in a local legend was fun and interesting. And if it helped Anna find true love, then all the better. You just never know. When traveling, you never know what great stories will become a part of your own great story.

P.S.  After doing some research on-line, I found out that Vanushca’s tomb, featured in the photos above, is different now. They replaced it with a new, more elaborate tomb, but it is still a place where people go to leave flowers, write requests, and pay their respects to Vanushca. You can find a photo and an article about it here.  

Think outside the tortilla.

I just bought a loaf of Bauernbrot German rye bread from the grocery store bakery and I have to say that it is awesome. I love rye bread, light or dark or pumpernickel (hello German ancestry). I actually love any type of bread, especially when it’s freshly made. As a sandwich, toast, or simply spread with some butter, it doesn’t really matter to me. I like it all.

So when traveling to Latin America, you would think that I might go through withdrawal from all that bread we eat up here, north of the border. But I don’t. In many of the countries I’ve been to in Central America, tortillas are the carbohydrate of choice. And I love them. I don’t recall ever having a flour tortilla outside the U.S. ... that is not to say that they don’t exist elsewhere. I just haven’t been to a place where they are customary. Where I have been in Central America, the corn tortilla rules. And I dutifully bow at its feet. Sometimes the tortilla comes in slightly different forms in different countries, but corn is the main ingredient. The majority of those that I have eaten were made fresh that day, with someone’s caring hands that took the corn “dough” and pat-pat-patted the ball into a perfectly thin, round disk that was cooked over a wood fire. I can smell them now. I had a tortilla-making lesson in Guatemala at the school where I worked --- it is definitely not as easy as I thought it would be. Mine was a little more like a frisbee than a tortilla. But it was still good.

The popularity of tortillas in Central America does not mean one cannot find great bread there. While spending some time in Costa Rica, I ate bread every morning for breakfast. The host family I stayed with made the typical gallo pinto (black beans and rice mixed together) every morning for breakfast, which I happily ate and liked. But I also had bread and butter sprinkled with sugar. I’m not sure if the family typically ate bread every day, but the butter and sugar was all Dutch. My friend Sietske from the Netherlands (you previously read about her here), who was a border at the house and became my good friend, was surely the one who started that. The bread came from a local bakery and someone in the family walked the short distance every morning to go pick some up. We got thick slices, doctored them up Euro-style, and enjoyed them with some awesomely strong and rich coffee.

When traveling in Mexico with my friend Monica, we were preparing for our long bus ride back to Mexico City (you can read a bit about the bus ride to Oaxaca here). We knew we had to bring some food along since our bus ride would be long again. We decided to get some bread at a local bakery. We bought some nice looking bread and then also got some quesillo at the market, which is a very popular cheese in the Oaxaca region. Quesillo is basically awesome, unprocessed string cheese (see more about it here). In the local cheese enchiladas (hello again my wonderful corn tortillas), the quesillo was almost like shredded chicken. I don’t eat chicken and haven’t for years, but the quesillo was fantastic. So we got a ball of quesillo also. When we got hungry on the bus, we used every traveler’s friend, the Swiss Army Knife, cut some bread and made quesillo cheese sandwiches. Perfect travel food. 

On your travels to Latin America, embrace the tortilla when it is the carb of choice. It is delicious in so many ways in so many different recipes. But know that if you get a hankering for bread, you are good to go. Bread is still popular south of the border. You just have to find the right way to eat it.