Nicaragua: Planning and Ultra-Light Packing

~ Steven A. Melnick

We spend considerable time planning. As Admiral Painter (aka Fred Thompson) told Jack Ryan in The Hunt for Red October in his slow Tennessee drawl, “The average Russkie doesn’t take a dump, son, without a plan.”  I believe the “plan” is what makes for a smooth trip. Spontaneity is clutch and fuels the adventure factor, but the base plan needs to be in place upon arrival so the essentials of life are already taken care when you disembark at the airport (think bottom two layers of Maslow’s Hierarchy–see below).  If the ancient philosophy of stoicism is the pursuit of tranquility, good planning is the road to get there.

Planning

We’ve carefully developed pre-trip and packing checklists (links provided below) that have become instrumental in making our trips easier to plan, to travel, and far more care-free once we get there.  As a result, we can confidently be ready in a day to leave for months at a time on a moment’s notice and not worry about forgetting a thing.

Maslow's HierarchyTops on the list is the “where,” of course, but we talk about next year all year long and agree on the destination long before we start the planning. This year, because of my two-week scouting mission in December 2014 to Managua, Nicaragua, the “where” was easy to answer. During my previous visit here I stayed at a small boutique hotel that is centrally located in the city of Managua. The hotel has but 20 rooms plus two apartments. We rented one of the apartments for four months with a second bedroom and bath for guests. It’s in a convenient location in the city and the hotel staff are some of the nicest people we’ve met in all our travels anywhere.  The pool is right outside the apartment door! Grocery store, pharmacy, mall, lots of restaurants, are all within walking distance.  Good planning.  Peace and tranquility upon arrival.

Ultralight, Hassle-Free Packing

We travel light purposefully.  By not checking bags, we are able to be more nimbly around the airport and there’s zero chance of the airline losing our bags.  With a GORUCK GR-2 backpack and a McCoolker Multifunction Messenger Bag (it’s NOT a man-purse, dammit) along with a Maxpedition attachable shoulder pad, I can pack everything I need for a trip of indeterminate duration and not have to check any bags.  As it turns out, much to many travelers surprise, they have laundry services around the world so packing 30 outfits for the month becomes somewhat crazy.  And, what you might need more of can be purchased wherever you go.  Obviously, hair products are not high on my list.

I’ve become a true believer in the Tim Ferris (author of the 4-Hour Work Week) “buy it there” concept (B.I.T.).  Basically, the BIT idea is to pack lean and light and purchase what you need when you arrive at your destination rather than lugging stuff.  For example, we buy the sample sizes of toothpaste, deodorant, etc. at the grocery store for our backpacks.  When we arrive at our destination we are good for about 4-5 days, perhaps more, until we do the Arrival Grocery List run to stock up.  We then purchase the local full-sized version of our supplies for use during our stay–NOTE: Brand names in foreign countries differ so you really have to read labels to find equivalent products.  As soon as we do so, we restock the sample-sized versions in our backpacks, if necessary, and we’re ready for the next journey.  Doing so let’s us pack only what is essential without the excess weight of larger supplies.  By the way, this works whether you are staying for 4 months or a shorter vacation (1-2 weeks).  Why carry what isn’t necessary?

We pack enough clothing for about a week and then rely on local services to “refresh” our clothes.  I’ve done a lot of reading about the concept of ultralight backpacking–ultra referring to super light weight.  Consider that when carrying all your belongings for the trip with you on your back, a few extra ounces here and there end up turning into excess pounds and I’ve become very conscious of what things weigh (no, NOT obsessive compulsive).  My goal is for my backpack to weigh in under 20 pounds, the lighter the better.  For example, I usually pack six shirts (two collared polo shirts; five t-shirts–remember I’m also wearing one of these on the flight).  A typical Russell Athletic cotton T-shirt weighs about 10.7 ounces; the Under Armour Tech-T Shirts are 6.4 ounces each–a difference that may seem inconsequential.  But, you would end up carrying 3.4 extra ounces times 6 shirts = 20.4 ounces extra by packing cotton.  That’s ~1.4 POUNDS of extra weight with no significant benefit.  The Tech-Ts are a lightweight, quick drying, breathable fabric that is wonderful in hot weather.  They are 100% polyester, which I normally avoid like the plaque, but the weave of the fabric is somehow different and breathable.  I love them.  They also fold compactly.  Granted the Tech-Ts are more expensive than cotton but I don’t have to lug the extra weight.  And that 1.4 pound savings is just the shirts.  Shaving ounces across shorts, underwear, supplies, etc. adds up to real pounds.

Similarly, I buy lightweight, breathable, quick drying travel pants that have zip-off legs and usually only take one “pair of legs” along.  Since our travels are usually someplace warm, the occasions where I need long pants are few and far between.  I also buy ExOfficio Underwear which are similarly lightweight, breathable, and quick drying…you’ve got to love their advertising slogan:  17 countries. 6 weeks. One pair of award-winning underwear. (Ok, maybe two.)  Keep the secret but I pack more than two.

With underwear, t-shirts, shorts, a pair of Teva sandals, and a pair of Merrell Moab Ventilator Hiking Shoes, I’m all set.  I pack the sandals because they can lie flatter and I wear the hiking shoes on the flight.  Upon arrival, I switch to the sandals for everyday wear–have rarely worn socks since I retired !!!  The hiking shoes I use only if we are going on nature hikes in the wilds of wherever we are or in, heaven forbid, cold weather.  The Teva sandals are quite comfortable for all the walking we do.

For your reading pleasure here are links to our Pre-Trip Planning Checklist and the Travel Packing Checklist.  Put your seat in the upright position, stow your tray tables, and fasten your seat belts.

We’re off.  Godspeed.

Nicaragua: Living There…or Vacationing?

~ Steven A. Melnick ~ 10 Comments
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Cathedral de Santiago, Managua

There’s something about long-term travel that’s relaxing and addictive.  Travel soothes the soul and nourishes the mind.  Once hooked, it’s tough to not crave more.  When we are traveling, I am more relaxed and feel more stress-free than I have since I was a child.  Perhaps it’s because of our pre-trip extensive planning where no detail is overlooked and, upon arrival, everything is already on autopilot.  We use detailed checklists based on experience for planning and packing to ensure nothing is forgotten.  No stress, no fuss, no muss.

Prior to the trip, we pre-book the housing, the rental car (when and if needed), look at options for public transportation, locate nearby grocery stores and restaurants using Google Maps, and get a sense of what activities there are to do there.  But not rigidly so–the key to a relaxing trip is flexibility and not packing every day with Clark Griswold-type intensity (…from the movie Vacation).  We really don’t need to see the biggest ball of string in Nicaragua.  I only firm up the essentials.  After all, much of the fun of the trip is spontaneous game-day decisions and maintaining a slow, carefree attitude.  On the financial side, everything is setup to be automatic each month–I need only monitor from afar.  I could get hit by a bus today, have a one-way ticket punched to the Great Beyond (or Below as the case may be), and it would be months before Netflix realized I hadn’t watched a movie in a long time!

Each year, Heide and I start talking about next year’s trip(s) while we are wintering in warmer climates.  If you’re an ongoing reader of my blog, you know that the longer winter trip we make must be somewhere warm (e.g., Costa Rica, Nicaragua…).  Warm weather is our primary criterion from after Christmas until it’s time to put the boat back in the water in the spring.  Having lived almost all of my life in northeastern and central Pennsylvania, I’ve seen enough snow to last me the rest of my life (sorry, Ken Blankenhorn !!!).  However, there are places in the world, other than Central America, we want to see (e.g., Greece, Italy, perhaps a return to Germany and Turkey, Prague, Budapest, Scotland, Ireland, Spain, the Far East, etc.), just not in the winter.  We have a full docket.

At times, I’ve struggled with how to succinctly explain, to folks who ask, what we are doing on the long trips.  We really aren’t playing tourist and hitting all of the tourist excursions and ripoffs the typical Gringo would do here or out partying every night (little, but not that much).  We enjoy the simple life of spending time together, reading, exploring, and relaxing.  An interesting distinction we’ve made about our travels is the difference between vacation and living there.

One day this past summer while chatting about our plans for Nicaragua I said to Heide, “What are we going to do there for four months?”  So far, four months is our longest stint in anyone place.  Heide responded, “We’re going to live there.”  Her use of the word “live” echoed in my head.  It was a Eureka moment.  Living somewhere and immersing oneself in the environment is very different from vacationing.  Our primary intent is to spend the winter away from cold weather, learn the language of our host country, get to know the culture and customs different from our own (both historical and present day), and perhaps most importantly, get to know the people and their stories.  Vacationing, however, is more about seeing and experiencing things in the short-term and can be done year-round.  We still want to experience the language, culture and people while vacationing to be sure, but equally important are experiencing, for example, the view from the Acropolis in Greece, “hearing” the roar of the crowd in the Coliseum in Rome, or tapping your own Guinness at the brewery in Ireland all within a shorter time frame (perhaps 1-2 weeks each instead of 4 months).   For example, four months in Nicaragua is living there.  We are scheduled to take an 8-day cruise at the end of September to Canada and New England with some dear friends.  That’s a vacation, although, since I’m retired, I’m not sure from what it’s a vacation!!!

In my next post, I will provide more detailed descriptions of our planning, the type of housing, transportation we use and finally, a little something about how we arrange taking care of the financial side of life while away.  Stay tuned.

New Orleans–Music Everywhere !

~ Steven A. Melnick ~ 4 Comments
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Levee Jazz Band

One of the pleasant surprises of New Orleans each time I come here is the music.  Between trips, I tend to forget that music is everywhere.  It is pleasantly inescapable.  Our new found friend Larry Talerico, who we are renting our temporary apartment from in New Orleans, is a member of the Levee Jazz Band (click here for sample).  Larry plays the trumpet (see photo at left) and sings lead vocals.  It is quite an impressive group and plays at a lot of local events.  Larry occasionally jams with others around the city when he has the opportunity.  A former music teacher from Ohio, Larry is a kindred spirit from the teaching world and has been the most welcoming of hosts on our vagabond travels.

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Deacon John Moore

Larry and Patti, during our first week in New Orleans, invited us to a party celebrating the grand opening of a new real estate office.  The party featured New Orleans legend, Deacon John Moore and The Ivories.  Deacon John is well known in and around New Orleans and is the subject of an NPR segment (click here).  At the age of 75, Deacon John is going strong and is still in high demand.  It was a rare treat to be able to hear such a talent live–an opportunity we would not have had without Larry’s and Patti’s thoughtfulness in inviting us.  We were even treated to an honest-to-goodness fight that broke out literally right behind me.  It would appear that one of the neighbors near the real estate opening had a little too much to drink, or participated in recreational pharmaceuticals, and took exception to the volume of the outdoor music (duh!!!).  He walked over, obviously under the influence as near as we could tell, with his German Shepard.  Not only did he send the dog into the yard where outdoor tables were setup and people P1010851were gathered enjoying drinks, hors d’oeuvres, and listening to the music.  The dog panicked and started darting from table to table looking for a place to hide, get away from the people, and in the process caused a bit of panic among the guests.  The guy also threatened the hostess, choked the skinny waiter who tried to intervene, and even though the guy had 40 pounds on the waiter, the waiter tossed him to the ground directly behind me on the sidewalk before the police were summoned.  In true professional fashion, the band played on as if nothing were happening.  I, on the other hand, thought “Holy cow!  This is great!  You can’t get tickets to this kind of entertainment!!!!”

While waiting for the streetcar near our temporary apartment one afternoon, we noticed an attractive, well-dressed young lady strolling toward our stop on foot about three blocks down.  With no one seemingly watching, she spontaneously broke into dance–body swaying, arms rhythmically moving in the air above her head with a few pirouettes thrown in for good measure as she walked.  She was clearly in her own zone and thoroughly enjoying the music in her earbuds–oblivious to all around her.  As she got closer to the streetcar stop she halted the dance and casually got in line like all was perfectly normal.  In any other place, you would have thought she was high on something.  In New Orleans, it seemed as natural as breathing

T.S. Lark on the Saxophone on the levee with the Mississippi behind
T.S. Lark on the Saxophone on the levee with the Mississippi behind

Heide and I have been walking all over New Orleans (about 3-5 miles each day or more) and I find it remarkable how music permeates the culture.  Not only are there street urchins who serenade passersby and tap dance their hearts out in the hopes of getting some “bread in their jar,” but bands are playing everywhere in the streets.  Funerals are famous for jazz bands accompanying the dearly departed to their final resting place, celebrating the life rather than mourning the death.  It seems no event is immune from live music.

We decided to stroll along the levee holding back the Mississippi River one afternoon and encountered a guy playing the saxophone.  He was quite good.  I dropped some money in his sax case, and he immediately struck up a conversation (I think he smelled an easy mark).  He sang a special song to Heide (about what a scoundrel I was as it turned out!).  Before I knew it, we were the proud owners of a T.S. Lark CD of his music and were $20 lighter.

P1010868Many bars have live bands but some of the best gems are the scattered street musicians who are quite talented and seem to draw small crowds all over.  Not playing an instrument is no impediment to sharing your talent.  The picture on the left was a guy that just setup on the street with nice acoustics between the buildings and started singing.  He was pretty good and worth a stop to listen to for a few minutes.

Don’t listen to the news; listen to all the music you can find.  In New Orleans, it’s everywhere.

 

The Politics of News…

~ Steven A. Melnick ~ 1 Comment

americanflagTo paraphrase Tim Ferris, author of The Four Hour Work Week among other works, “…don’t listen to the news; …listen to all the music you want.”  Wise words to be sure and I must admit that my life has been more stress-free since I took his advice to heart.  For quite some time now I have consciously avoided the news.  From my viewpoint based on the ancient philosophy of stoicism, there are a set of things in this universe over which I have no control and I don’t want to spend precious time in my life worrying about them.

I almost always avoid political discussions; I have my own personal views and opposing views are simply wrong.  It’s not my mission in life to correct them.  But, the wisdom of Tim’s advice was driven home yet again as I was (forcibly) catching the evening news while eating my dinner at a restaurant last evening.  The restaurant had a TV blaring the latest horrific tragedy right on the wall by my table–I couldn’t avoid it.  The news was saturated with coverage of that day’s shooting where 14 people were gunned down at an office party hosted by the San Bernardino County Department of Public Health in California.  You could clearly see bullet-riddled cars and dead bodies on gurneys.  The news was the shootings; the dead bodies were simply for effect.  I believed them when they said 14 people died.  Did I really need to see the corpses while eating?  There was nothing I could do about the shootings.  I could not bring those people back to life nor could I punish the perpetrators.  I could have just left the restaurant.

Of course, the gun control advocates were already calling for stricter gun control legislation claiming that if only we banned guns these things wouldn’t happen.  Banning handguns is about as realistic as deporting 12 million illegal immigrants.  Yet the very same logic they apply against deportation (i.e., there are too many to make deportation practical) mysteriously does not apply to banning literally millions of guns already in circulation.

I really am not sure who is the bigger, more shameful opportunist:  the gun control lobby who is using the tragic deaths of 14 people to promote there own ridiculous agenda again (gun control works really well in Chicago, right?) or the idiots in the news media who are doing the very same and feeding off the sympathy of the American people.  You will be seeing the same video on TV for the next two weeks and ultimately will know how many nose hairs each suspect has.  The exploitation by both groups sickens me.  On average, there are 44 murders per day across the United States (not all by gun by the way).  What of the other 30 people who lost their lives that day?  Since they were likely not spectacular, the news media doesn’t seem to care.

The news is simply a string of tragedies purposefully selected and presented to tug at the heart strings of the American people.  It has become less about fostering a well-informed electorate and more about promoting political viewpoints and commercial agendas on both sides of the aisle.  There is no real civil discourse in this country anymore as most people gravitate toward the news outlet that is most consistent with their own views (e.g., Fox for conservatives, ABC, CBS, NBC and NPR for liberals).  They are simply looking for confirmation that their view is correct and the other side is wrong creating an even more narrow minded view of events and issues.  We aren’t well informed.  A broadcast that presents both sides of any issue and allows us to draw our own conclusions simply does not exist today.  Perhaps it never existed.

One might wistfully wish for another Edward R. Murrow or Walter Cronkite but both had their own political agendas and used the public airwaves to drive it.  Murrow railed against communism and socialism; Cronkite used his chair to sway public opinion to end the Vietnam War and remove Richard Nixon from the presidency (be honest, aren’t today’s politicians at least as bad as Richard Nixon or worse and yet all keep getting re-elected?).  The “Most Trusted Man in America” had his own agenda, selected news items that promoted his views, and admitted to doing so after retiring.  Consistent with Tim’s advice and my own belief that there are things over which I have no control, I am renewing my resolve to not watch any television news.

Where have truth, justice and the American way gone?  If only Superman was here to tell us…

New Orleans: A Cajun Thanksgiving

~ Steven A. Melnick ~ 3 Comments

Cajun ThanksgivingHeide and I started our winter travels for this year on November 1.  We are spending seven weeks in New Orleans before heading back to our son’s and daughter-in-law’s house in Ashburn, Virginia for Christmas.  Then it’s off to Nicaragua for four months (January through April). Hablo un poco de español, but I’m getting better.

Growing up in rural Pennsylvania, city life is a foreign concept to us.  We decided this year to spend time in cities (New Orleans and Managua, Nicaragua) to sample city life, public transportation, restaurants galore within walking distance, all of the sights and sounds a city has to offer, and, in New Orleans, the music.  Music is everywhere here.

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South Carollton/St. Charles Streetcar

Spending time in a city without a car is a new experience for us as we are used to simply jumping in the car and going wherever we please.  No car in the city has its advantages (not worried about parking!) but it takes a little more planning to get around.  Fortunately, we have clearly been spoiled here in New Orleans.  The apartment we rented in the Uptown section of New Orleans is but two blocks from the streetcar that takes us all the way into the heart of the city at the doorstep to the French Quarter for 40 cents!  Although it was good planning when we made the reservation, it has worked out even better than I imagined.  And, we have discovered the joys of Uber !!!

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Patti and Larry

One of the nicest surprises has been the people of New Orleans.  I have traveled to many cities throughout the United States and abroad over the years, but the people of New Orleans win the award for being the friendliest city-folk I’ve ever been around.  We have been walking 3-5 miles daily in the city and everyone we pass is forthcoming with a smile and “Hello.”  Home re-modelers in the neighborhood have stopped working to say “Hello” and strike up a conversation about the weather, the Saints, or simply what a beautiful day it is.  “Y’all have a great day” is heard frequently.

On our very first day in New Orleans, the owner of the apartment we are renting (Larry) extended an invitation from his friend Patti to join him, her and her family for Thanksgiving dinner.  This was sight unseen–we could have been ax murderers from the hills for all they knew (I don’t even own an ax by the way…anymore !!!)–but a warm and welcoming invitation was extended nonetheless.  Since the kiddies (Mark, Eileen, and Thomas) were unable to make the trip to New Orleans as originally planned, Heide and I faced the prospect of spending time together alone on Thanksgiving for the first time in memory.  I rarely warm up to strangers quickly but, even so, we accepted the invitation and with some trepidation faced the prospect of sitting down for an intimate dinner with complete strangers!

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Beth, Mary Lou, and Sweetie

Everyone in Patti’s family (her mother Mary Lou, her sister “Sweetie,” her brother-in-law Tim, and her nephew Timothy) and Larry made us feel like we were the long lost cousins from Pennsylvania right from the start !!!  Patti’s brother Glenn and her sister-in-law Beth, joined us later for dessert.  Conversation flowed easily as if we had known each other for years.

 

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Tim, Timothy, Glenn and Beth

The hors d’ oeuvres, drinks, food, and companionship of new found friends for Thanksgiving are, and will remain, the highlight of our stay in New Orleans.  It was a wonderful way to spend Thanksgiving. Southern hospitality at its finest.  And they play a cut-throat version of Mexican Train.

Vagabond Life: The Fine Art of Downsizing

~ Steven A. Melnick ~ 4 Comments

“Simplify, simplify.”
…Ralph Waldo Emerson

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Not our actual house !!!

Part of the driving force in our decision to sell our house, thin the clutter, and become “vagabonds” (click here for earlier post) was to provide the time and freedom to change our lifestyle, downsize significantly and simplify our lives. We wanted to spend our time, energy, and resources on international travel and living, experience new cultures and languages, continue life-long learning in myriad ways, and enjoy the fruits of 40 years of working and saving.  For us, the decision has resulted in a cascade of benefits that were both foreseen and yet some pleasantly unexpected.  The decision has brought a freedom we could hardly have imagined.  For those of you considering the vagabond life or just dreaming about “maybe some day,” following are a few tips.  Step outside the box and think about life in a less traditional way.  Life is good.  But, the sheer amount of crap one accumulates over a lifetime is daunting.  Getting control of that part of our transition was a serious challenge.

Following are some tips I hope are helpful.  Born of experience, these seem to me to be crucial in terms of not only accomplishing the task at hand but, in all honesty, testing whether you have the mettle to pull the plug and seriously downsize.

The shear volume of crap is astonishing…

This move has caused us to do some serious soul-searching regarding material possessions.  Spending summers on our boat provides limited storage space.  Traveling throughout the rest of the year provides no storage space.  See the problem?

Sit up on the mountain with a six-pack and think deep thoughts about where you will store your things while you a gallivanting all over the world.  This is no snap decision.  You will need some space that is preferably climate controlled so your things do not become mildewed, damaged by drips, leaks, etc. and that can be organized as if you suffered from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD).  Everything should have a place and everything should be in its place.  When it comes time to move back ashore and be a dirt-dweller again, I have no doubt this will make life easier.

We used banker boxes for storage.  They are inexpensive and, importantly, stackable.  You’ll need bubble-wrap for delicate items, packing paper to wrap everything as if you were a professional mover, labels to permanently stick on the boxes (not the lids) that list every single thing in each box, permanent markers, and tape.  A time-consuming process to be sure but I have little doubt we will appreciate it more when we eventually move back to more permanent digs–hopefully, years from now.

Storage, in our case, is in the form of a modular storage system I built in my wood shop (while I still had one !) comprised of custom shelves sized to hold exactly three banker boxes across.  Each shelf unit is stackable so I can adjust the height of the shelving to fit whatever space I want to put them in.  A big benefit is that each shelf unit is lightweight and easy to move when empty.  Another big benefit is the shelving sits in Mark’s and Eileen’s basement in a relatively small footprint.

De-clutter and Be Ruthless

moving boxesPerhaps the most difficult task, both physically and emotionally, was to thin out our accumulated belongings.  Hard to believe but we have reduced 43 years of married clutter into 54 banker boxes and kept but five pieces of furniture that are family heirlooms with which we couldn’t part.

In deciding to sell our house, downsize, simplify and in the process create more freedom, we went through every single piece of “stuff” in our house–knickknacks, chatzkees, housewares, furniture, books, keepsakes, etc..  As a researcher, I was always reluctant to get rid of data–you can’t recreate it once its gone.  But at the beginning of my career, data was all on paper and had to be keypunched.  Today it’s all digitized.  I had banker boxes filled with reams of data (paper surveys, questionnaires, literature review drafts, etc.) in addition to tape recordings of interviews–both reel-to-reel and cassettes along with the hardware/equipment to transcribe them.  In short, when it came to research files, I was a pack-rat extraordinaire–I never got rid of a shred of data I thought my be useful again someday.  In a class by myself no doubt.

Additionally, I had crates containing multiple copies of every paper I ever wrote, presented and/or published (see Vita).  Between my data files and the things I wrote, the sheer volume depleted a significant portion of the world’s rain forest.  It’s amazing that the rafters in my garage didn’t collapse.
To make matters worse, in 2011, we sold our first house in Elizabethtown and moved about 3 miles down the road to a new one.  We had professional movers pack everything (and I do mean everything) with the boxes clearly marked as to what room they came from.  Often the movers would also write general descriptive terms on the boxes (e.g., books, dishes).  We did not go through a thing to decide if we wanted to get rid of it before the move; rather, we merely packed everything and figured we’d have the time at the new house to sort through things.  The moving company moved everything into the new place according to the room labeled on the box and it was fairly easy to unpack and restore order to our lives.  However, anything marked “attic,”  “basement,” or “garage” went into the new basement with the good intention of sorting through the stuff “later.”

Well, as you might imagine, being a legendary procrastinator of all things I don’t want to do, “later” never came.  (As an aside, I once owned the domain name ArtofProcrastination.com but never got around to doing anything with it…!!!  True story).  When the current house sold and the buyers wanted to be in as soon as possible, we agreed to a closing date just 30 days from the sale date.  The clock was now ticking.  The boxes in our basement that sat quietly taped shut for three years suddenly became a problem of epic proportions.  But given our plans to travel and wander the world, it was time to pay the piper and go through those boxes.  A herculean task to be sure, but we rolled up our sleeves and began the assault on Mount Melnick Crap.  If there is a hell, it is located somewhere in the universe where you need to box things up so you can move and unpack them everyday.  With the help of very good friends (only your dearest friends will help you move!), the last truck load left the house just two days before closing.  It was a photo finish.

The good news is that Heide was not into clutter.  The living spaces in our house were well organized and minimalist in philosophy.  If something didn’t serve a purpose, it did not live at our house.  It was really the unopened boxes of yesteryear that provided the greatest challenge.  We started the process by each identifying those things that we simply could not bear to part with.  There were pieces of furniture that have been in our family for generations.  The rocking chair that every baby of my parents’ and my generation and the next was rocked in is likely 100 years old, handmade with mortise and tenon joints and not a single one of them has ever come loose.  A few other “sacred” pieces of furniture were mandatory to keep such as the Hoosier cabinet with the pull-out porcelain top where my mother rolled out homemade pie and pierogie dough.  Mark and Eileen are storing them for us in their basement for the day when we wash ashore and become dirt dwellers again.

Except for those “sacred” items, we were able to part with most everything else fairly easily.  When we had moved to the current house, we got rid of a lot of furniture we had for the past 30+ years and bought new.  For the sake of simplicity, we decided not to bother with trying to sell the new furniture.  Rather, we gave it away to family and close friends.  They got some virtually brand new, quality furniture pieces and we were able to empty the house in record time.  And we have the benefit of when we visit them we get to see our old stuff !!!

When the time comes to wash ashore again, the move into new accommodations should be straight-forward and easy (yeah, right !).   I hope that day is many years away…

The Vagabond Life

~ Steven A. Melnick ~ 9 Comments
Amish horse and buggy
Amish horse and buggy

As many of you know, Heide and I have lived in Elizabethtown, Pennsylvania for the past 28 years.  We loved the area and rural Lancaster County.  With its rolling farmlands and Pennsylvania Dutch Amish and Mennonite culture, it is one of the most quaint and picturesque places on earth.  In few other places will you find hitching posts in the parking lot at Costco and the local hardware store for the horses and buggies.  It has been a good 28 years.

In June 2011, I retired from Penn State University and over the past 3-4 years we’ve done some extensive traveling with plans to step it up a notch and do more in the future.  We are at a stage of our lives where we have the time, resources, and fortunately good health.  This gives us the freedom to travel more, spend more time on our boat and with family and dear friends.

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Arenal Volcano, Costa Rica

We have had boats for almost 30 years (somehow they keep growing in size) but since I retired, we have spent most of the summer months on our boat on Chesapeake Bay just outside of Baltimore, Maryland.  Last year, we traveled to Florida for the winter; the year before we spent the winter in Costa Rica.  This fall/winter, we plan to have a “Cajun Thanksgiving” in New Orleans for six weeks (November into mid-December), spend Christmas with Mark, Eileen, and Thomas in Northern Virginia and then off to Nicaragua for 4 months.

We thoroughly enjoy the variety but finally realized that in the past 12 months, we only spent about 2-3 months of the year at our house in Elizabethtown.  In short, 9-10 months per year, the house was empty and being watched over by kindly neighbors on our behalf–we are eternally grateful.  It made little sense to continue to pay the monthly expenses (taxes, electric, sewer, etc.) and not be there most of the year.

In the end, since most friends, family, and colleagues have spread to far off places, we decided to sell the Elizabethtown house (closed on January 30) and travel wherever the whim and wind take us.  The plan is to spend the summer on the Chesapeake and to travel the world the rest of the year with frequent stops/visits with Mark, Eileen, and Thomas–Thomas is now 7 years old and we don’t want to miss his developing years (Mark and Eileen have already developed !!!).

Witness Protection Program

In a way, I feel like we’re on the lam or in the witness protection program.  Without a house, we are footloose and fancy-free.  But we also no longer have a place to call “home.”  Home is wherever we happen to be.  We are now legal residents of Florida and will be able to receive mail at our Florida address (a forwarding service will send it to wherever we are in the world), vote by absentee ballot, and, perhaps best of all, no state income tax !!!

As we walked away from the closing on the house, we pondered deep thoughts trying to determine if we were now (a) hobos, (b) homeless, or (c) vagabonds.  Being the researcher that I am, I had to find the answer to the question…each term had connotation implications!

 

From Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary…

Hobo:  a person who has no place to live and no money and who travels to many different places

Homeless:  having no place to live, indigent

Vagabond:  1.  moving from place to place without a fixed home;  2.  of, relating to, or characteristic of a wanderer; 3.  leading an unsettled, irresponsible, or disreputable life

As to the definition of Hobo, only 1 of the three criteria apply (guess which one).  Homeless isn’t relevant as we always have a place to live and sleeping in the car just doesn’t rate high on my list of priorities (roughing it is a hotel with no room service).  Vagabond seems just right.  We are moving from place to place without a fixed home, wandering as the spirit moves us, leading an unsettled and pretty much irresponsible life (don’t think we’re disreputable…yet).

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Sunset over Istanbul, Turkey

As it turns out, being a vagabond is the best feeling in the world !!!  And, the freedom that bestows on us is liberating.  Eventually, we know we will wash ashore and become dirt-dwellers once again.  Hopefully, that day will be quite a few years from now as we expect to continue our travels and enjoy life.

In the next few posts, I’ll tell you how we downsized from our house, digitized everything so we can keep track of family, friends, colleagues, banking and investments, and the day-to-day necessities of life from anywhere in the world.  Also, I’ll share how we have become “travel ninjas” by packing amazingly light for both short and extended trips.  And, of course, I will be writing about our travels along the way.  Please tune in, share our journey, and feel free to comment anytime.  We always love to hear from you.

Please subscribe to my blog in the SUBSCRIBE box in the right-hand column of this page.  Know that your email address will NEVER be shared with anyone and you will not be bombarded with emails–only notified directly when a new post is available.

 

Nicaragua: Honoring Roberto Clemente

~ Steven A. Melnick ~ 2 Comments
Roberto Clemente
“I want to be remembered as a ballplayer who gave all he had to give.” -Roberto Clemente

As a young child, I remember falling in love with baseball.  Baseball players were my heroes and my friends and I traded baseball cards for our favorites (Oh, to still have those…).  In the third grade I signed up for the local little league team but I didn’t have a baseball glove.  I remember my mother licking S&H Green Stamps until she had a greeen tongue and enough books filled with stamps to “buy” me a glove.  I still have it.  I  played organized baseball through Little League, Teener League, high school, and Legion Baseball.  In those early days, I was a Phillies fan and would strap my transistor radio (check the history books for what that was…) to the handle bars of my bike and ride up on the hill by our house glued to the broadcast of as many games as I could every summer.

In 1964, beloved Phillies had 12 games left in the season with a 6.5 game lead over St. Louis and Cincinnati.  Their magic number was 6…any combination of six wins by them or losses by the Cardinals and Reds who were hot on their heels.  They should have been a “lock” to win the National League Pennant and move on to the World Series.  Instead, the Phillies collapse was epic.  They lost 10 games in a row, finished third in the NL and the St. Louis Cardinals went on to win the NL Pennant and the World Series.  I haven’t listened to the Phillies since.  Go Orioles !!!

But my love of baseball never waned.  My son Mark and I took a motorcycle trip with a memorable stop in Cooperstown, NY to visit the Baseball Hall of Fame…sacred, hallowed ground to baseball fans (…we were actually heading to Canada to buy Cuban cigars…!!!).  While walking through that quiet, reverent place of commemorating the greats of the game, one couldn’t help but feel the aura honoring the players enshrined there.  They are there because of their accomplishments on the field.  And no one deserves that honor more than Roberto Clemente.  With a .317 life time batting average, 240 career home runs, 2 World Series Championships, 12 All Star appearances, 12 straight Gold Glove awards as a right-fielder along with National League MVP and World Series MVP awards, he is the epitome of a consummate ballplayer both on and off the field.  In what would be the last at-bat of his career, Clemente got his 3,000th hit–a double.  There is no doubt his achievements on the field are worthy of his enshrinement in the Hall of Fame (92% of the vote on the first ballot).  But it is his off-the-field devotion to the community that makes him such a remarkable man and role model for children.

Roberto Clemente StadiumEven though Clemente was from Puerto Rico (not Nicaragua), imagine my surprise when I saw a baseball stadium and marker named after the Pittsburgh Pirates legend in the center of downtown Old Managua.  Those of us old enough will remember that Clemente was tragically lost in an airplane accident in 1972 cutting short what would have been the final years of an amazing career but the details of that loss are not as well known.

In 1972, Nicaragua was hit by a devastating earthquake that killed more than 6,000 people, injured some 20,000 and more than 250,000 people were left homeless.  The city was devastated.  Clemente did more than simply donate some money to the relief effort.  He organized and gathered supplies to help those in need in Nicaragua during an unbelievable time of national disaster and arranged to fly them to Nicaragua.  Unbelievably, however, the Somosa government was so corrupt at the time that it was stealing the supplies from the planes at the airport intended to help the Nicaraguan people–three planes had been sent with similar results and the supplies never reached the people in need.  In an effort to assure the crucial supplies actually reached the people of Nicaragua whose lives were devastated by the quake, Roberto Clemente thought his presence on the next relief flight to Nicaragua might thwart any efforts by the Somosa government to steal the supplies and bring international attention to what was happening in Nicaragua.  It was a fateful decision.  Shortly after take off, Clemente’s overloaded plane went down in the ocean and no survivors were ever found.

P1010599The stadium that honors his memory and his efforts to help the people of Nicaragua is small but beautifully maintained.  Although the gates to the playing field were locked when I was there, I tried desparately to get the maintanance man to let me in and take my picture at home plate.  He explained, in Spanish, that only the Ministry of Sports had the key to the stadium and he pointed to a building off in the distance that I would have to visit to get permission (and the key) to go on the field.  In spite of my desire to commemorate my visit and considering my “command” of the language, I thought such an occurrence highly unlikely and decided to forego the walk to the building.

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Clemente’s jersey is displayed in left, center, and right field

In each section of the outfield, Clemente’s jersey and uniform number is posted (left field, center field, and right field).  The grass and grounds are beautifully maintained and the baseball stadium is the centerpiece of a relatively new park built for the people of Managua (Parque Luis Alfonso Velasquez Flores).   A family oriented-park with playgrounds, soccer fields, basketball courts, and family gathering areas, it represents just how important Clemente was to this community and, I am sure, the kind of legacy he would have wanted to leave behind.  Clemente was a remarkable man and the people of Nicaragua have never forgotten his valiant effort to help them.

 

Nicaragua: Taxi Talk in a foreign tongue–BRILLANT ! (…not so much)

~ Steven A. Melnick
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Individual Taxi in Managua

The city of Managua is a big place.  Too big to walk everywhere and I wasn’t adventurous enough yet to ride the local buses.  Taxis seemed the most logical option for me but I struggled with telling taxi drivers where I wanted to go.  Very few spoke any English and as noted before, my Spanish is, shall we say, somewhat short of flawless.  After sitting up on the mountain with a six-pack and thinking deep thoughts, I came up with a BRILLIANT well thought out plan, a technological wonder that would make men and women weep and children cheer for its simplicity.  Well…kinda.

Taxis are an interesting means of transportation in Nicaragua.  You can flag one down along most streets and they seem to be everywhere.  Some have the company name on the door, others have the company name AND the word “Individual” (see photo above).  Taxis designated Individual mean you, and only you, are in the taxi from the time you are picked up until you arrive at your destination–you pay the whole fare.  Taxis without the Individual designation (colectivos) can be flagged down by anyone at anytime along the way whether you’re in it or not.  Thus, the empty taxi you started out in might have seven of your closest friends in it, whom you never met, by the time you arrive at your destination–the fare is ostensibly split making it more cost effective for the locals.

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Note no “Individual” designation–come one, come all colectivo.

People flag the colectivos down at anytime regardless of the number of occupants.  They simply cram themselves in.  Some sitting on laps, possibly yours !  Some have air conditioning but it seldom works.  Although I did not utilize the colectivo taxis, I have no doubt there is a national law requiring deodorant.  Think of the sixties when folks tried to see how many people could be crammed into a Volkswagen Beetle at once….  I’m not quite that adventurous so I only took “Individual” taxis or used the private car services available with a phone call…usually safer, newer cars, that are better maintained and have functioning air conditioning.  The car service vehicles are unmarked and often have English speaking drivers.  They are only slightly more expensive than the “Individual” taxis but I had good experiences with them.  In fact, one driver gave me his card and home cell phone number and was quite willing to take my calls anytime.  Thank you Samuel Salazar !  Although I took a curbside taxi from the airport when I arrived, Samuel’s car service took me back as I had an early flight and he was very reliable.

ScreenshotBecause the taxi drivers almost universally spoke only Spanish, getting to my desired destination was an adventure.  I had a brainstorm, an epiphany…put technology to work !!!  By using the wonder of screenshots through Trip Advisor and Google Maps of where I wanted to go, I could simply show them.  The beauty of using the Trip Advisor (small map with the street address clearly listed on the screen at left), it was a foolproof plan regardless of the language barrier.  I was proud of my technological creativity and anxious to give it a try.  As an aside, note the lack of street addresses (no house numbers and street names).  The translation of the directions on the left are to go to the Rotonda Ruben Dario (a large traffic circle landmark in Managua), 1 block south, 3 blocks east, 1/2 block south !!!  Other such postal addresses might be “the green house across from the soccer field.”

When I decided to move to the small hotel from my initial rooms on the planet Solar (see earlier post), I flagged down a taxi.  Predictably, the driver spoke no English.  The hotel, I suppose, was such a small one that it was not a national landmark in Managua so he had no idea where I wanted to go.  Anxious to test my brilliance, I handed him my phone with the screen shot displayed and he looked at it carefully.  What could possibly go wrong?  He held it up, he held it down, he shaded it with his hand, he stretched his arm to full length and squinted.  Final I gave the name of the hotel.  He said “Ah…hotel” and he handed me the phone back.  In flawless Spanish I said, “Si” and we were off.

Now I’m no geographical genius but I had carefully studied maps of Managua to get a sense of where on the planet I was.  I was pretty sure the taxi driver was heading in the wrong direction but what did I know?  He took more back streets than I knew existed and seemed very purposeful in his driving.  I was pretty convinced I would become a statistic on the U.S. State Department website.  However, just about the time I was ready to pull the emergency stop cord (there wasn’t one), he pulled up in front of a hotel.  A hotel.  Not my hotel.  This place looked like even pimps and hookers would have higher standards.  What a shit hole.

The taxi driver proudly pointed to the building and said, “Hotel !”

I said, “No señor. No mi hotel.”  At first I thought he had simply taken the dumb Gringo for a ride to his cousin’s sister’s brother’s hotel and the whole family would come out to greet me.  I wondered how on earth did we end up here.  For no reason in particular, a statistic I had read popped into my head…UNICEF and others estimate the adult literacy rate to be about 78%  (Costa Rica, by contrast is 98%; the United States is 99%).  That means that about 1 in 4 Nicaraguans cannot read.  I think I found the one in four.

With that realization, I read the directions from the phone screen to the taxi driver and his face lit up with a smile and he said, “Si” quite happily and we were off.  I got the sense he had absolutely no idea where I wanted to go to begin with and didn’t know how to ask.  I didn’t know enough Spanish to tell him.  By reading him the directions, he took me directly to the door of the hotel.  Lesson learned.  Back to the drawing board…maybe not so brilliant an idea.

 

Nicaragua: Finding Jesus

~ Steven A. Melnick ~ 2 Comments

Believe it or not, I, Steven Melnick, found Jesus.  Yep.  Not kidding.  Right there in Nicaragua in the most unlikely place.  Those who know me well are aware the last time I went to church regularly was for a date (seriously).  But there, looking out over the beautiful beach of San Juan del Sur in Nicaragua, I found Jesus.

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Robert at the hillside hotel overlooking San Juan del Sur

Perhaps a little background might put this revelation in context. On an earlier road trip my new friend Robert showed me the “real” Nicaragua as we spent the day visiting some places slightly off the tourist map (see earlier post).  On this trip, Robert and I went to San Juan del Sur in the southwest corner of Nicaragua just to the north of the border with Costa Rica.  San Juan del Sur lies 140 kilometers south of Managua and is a beautiful little beach town that is very popular with surfers, beach lovers, and tourists.  We were there on a week day and it appeared to be a sleepy little town with just a modest amount of activity.  Street vendors, small shops selling souvenirs, t-shirts, jewelry, and all manner of chatzkees abound.  It is a charming place on the Pacific coast that I could envision spending a good bit of time there when Heide and I go back.  Many thanks to my friend Robert for showing it to me.

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San Juan del Sur Beach and Harbot

As we drove through town, we spotted a small hotel high up on the hillside that appeared to have a  spectacular view overlooking the town and, importantly, a restaurant.  Robert shifted the car into “vertical” and we climbed the hillside making it past security posted at the gate thanks to Robert’s flawless Nicaraguan Spanish.  I understood not a word of the conversation but I have no doubt we were important dignitaries on serious business as the guard enthusiastically raised the gate.  The view was simply stunning from the top of the hillside overlooking the beach and the harbor.  Clearly, Mother Nature’s artistic hand was at work here.  As we gazed out at the clear blue skies, beautiful ocean sparkling to the horizon, and the picturesque fishing and recreational boats bobbing at anchor, a sense of tranquility settled over us.  It just doesn’t get better than this.  One could envision spending all eternity in such a beautiful setting.  Surrounded by hills, the beach is a white sand crescent that was intended to be nature’s postcard beckoning to the world.

P1010782Standing on top of the hill overlooking San Juan del Sur, one couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the view.  As we scanned the hilltops surrounding the beach, something stood out to us both.  Look closely at the top of the hillside in the left-center of the photo on the left.  At first, we weren’t sure what it was but the zoom lens on my camera suggested a mountaintop shrine.  Intrigued, after a delightful lunch of fish caparccio of course and some Nicaraguan beer (Victoria Classico), we jumped in the car and started touring the town working our way toward the mountain top to see if we could discover what sat atop it.

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Should have packed a lunch and nitro-glycerin…

It was no easy trek.  We saw no signs pointing toward it and the roads were typical Nicaraguan…potholes tied together with a little asphalt here and there or simply dirt.  Since the hilltop was an easy landmark to keep in sight, we eventually made our way to the top.  The drive was harrowing enough for its near vertical climb, but the steps up to the top should have had portable defibrillators every few feet.  It was an amazing incline.  Clearly those who designed it wanted to make sure only dedicated pilgrims were able to complete the journey.  The destination at the top, however, was nothing short of breathtaking.  As I rounded the last corner of the top step, I found Jesus.

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Cristo de la Misericordia overlooking San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua

At the summit, overlooking the town of San Juan del Sur and seemingly blessing the town and beach, stood a huge statue of Jesus (Cristo de la Misericordia).  It rises 134 meters above sea level and stands 24 meters high (that’s about 440 feet above sea level and almost 79 feet high for my metrically challenged friends).  In the base is a small chapel along with a few facts and figures about the statue.  I was surprised by its size and, according to a poster on the wall, it is one of some 17 such shrines around the world.  Perhaps the most famous is the iconic Christ the Redeemer keeping watch on the antics going on in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.  Of particular note, Christ the Redeemer stands 30 meters high making the one in Nicaragua just 6 meters shorter.  Yet, Cristo de la Misericordia in San Juan del Sur probably remains relatively unknown to much of the world.  It is an impressive presence on the hillside.  As can be seen in the picture on the left, a group of young people were having a wonderful picnic in the shade of the shrine and were having a great time.  Robert and I weren’t quite sure, but it appeared alcohol played an important role in this picnic.  Assuming it was wine, it somehow seemed fitting and proper on such hallowed ground.

P1010816It is hard to describe the view from that hillside.  Perhaps it was a sense of spirituality or the majesty overlooking the town and beach, but it was simply beautiful. The solemn quiet instilled a reverence even though I was pretty sure I’d simultaneously hear the clap of thunder and feel the bolt of lightning upon entering the tiny chapel.  Off in the distance from that height, beyond the spit of land at the end of San Juan del Sur beach, one can see the Pacific northwest coastline of Costa Rica.  We explored the town on the way down the hillside and stopped at a beach front bar for a quick drink and one last look at the beach.  A few people were beach walking and one couple was constructing something indescribable on the sand.  Otherwise all was quiet and peaceful.  Certainly a place that warrants a return visit.