My Ramblings

I shot the Elephant but I did not shoot the Donkey...

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 08:35:00 +0000

The death of one's belief structure can, at times, be the emergence..... or as i like to believe, the lighting of the wick of a positive life embrace of a new belief structure. Yeah... sounds like a full bright ray of bullshit... I know... but just bare w me!

So the back story on this goes back to 1992 when I was working my way through my Business degree and I became indoctrinated into the Republican trickle down theory. I was lead to believe that my fellow man was somewhat less intelligent and therefore less worthy than me.

I learned that wealth should go to the top. I was indoctrinated into the belief that "our" or rather "my" intelligence would lead me to create businesses and that the wealth I created would flow down to those below me.

At the time, I embraced this philosophy! Yes... give me all the money and I will disperse it to my plebes...

I believed that everybody below me were static and unwilling to make upward movement and should therefore exist in their status quo.

The one problem I soon discovered with my whole philosophy was that: I did not even belong in that upper echelon. Yeah.... I was not even a member of that elite hierarchy.

Yes, I built my business. I did my part. However, I was never ruthless enough or inventive enough, or motivated enough to reach that upper octane level.

However, from what I was lead to believe, it didn't matter.... I owned my own business.... I will soon benefit from this whole "republican" belief structure....

O.K. well i waited and waited and waited.... and well..... I waited!

Ignorance is NOT sweet bliss.
Ignorance is ignorance.
In fact, ignorance is destructive and painful.

Soon I began to realize that ; In reality.... the majority of Republicans are not small business owners like me. No, the majority of Republicans are not even the "smart" wealthy large business owners and people that own the wealth that will eventually "trickle" down to the average person.

NO, the average "Republican" is some small town guy who earns very little and is not very educated. He is somebody that is easily swayed and mislead either by his local politician or his church leaders.

In fact, this individual, is often times so ignorant that he doesn't even realize that what he values and strives for so much is just a regurgitation of what his local politician or religious leader has told him to believe.

He has little capacity to look at the issues in a true and independent means and form his own opinion.

He has been told that his government is too big. However, he is the exact type of person that will most benefit from a progressive government. He will seek and benefit most from unemployment, social security, disability, and welfare.

He will be the first person to say that the United States needs to have a smaller government. Yet, he will also be the first person to scream from the top of his lungs that Iran and North Korea must be stopped at all costs.

He will also scream for a tighter border as he rails for smaller government.

He will spout that we must have a reduction in taxes yet he will be the individual least affected by lower taxes.

His belief in the trickle down theory is so naive as to believe that the guys on top are actually even thinking about how to benefit him!

He will be the person that least recognizes that the only thing trickling down is their champagne piss!

Ignorance will further blind them to the fact that their pensions are diminishing, their upward mobilitiy is virtually gone, their wages are being lowered.... and if they bitch too much... their jobs may disappear too!

Yet... somehow.... through their ignorant blindness,,, they still hang on to this pitiful notion that these "Republicans" somehow represent them. Even as they come straight out on television and with their own words say... I LOVE THE TOP 1%. I WILL PROTECT THEM! Yes, even when they adamantly admit that they are representing the people on the very top.... for some fucked up reason... the average joe person still straggles along with these guys. Are they that fucking stupid? Have they watched that much Fox news that their brains are just completely fried?

Perhaps they believe that these "geniuses" will piss down their Trickle down theory and the rain that comes down will be holy water...

They bitch and moan at Government workers or unions because all of a sudden they are either making more than them or that they have better benefits or retirement than them.

I think, instead of being upset with what they have, they should focus their energies on why they don't have that!

You should truly be upset with what you have been losing. It is not that these people have surpassed you... it is that you have fallen behind them.... not due to you... but by your trickle down theory that you embrace!

Yes my friend... it is cheaper to move your pension and your high wages over seas! They don't give a shit about you! Profit is good! Just listen to your political leaders right now! They are so bold as to scream it out loud because they think you are so ignorant that you will never really get it! Hey capitalism is good... but people that buy out companies and fuck over all the people to make a boatload of profit really don't give a shit about you...

No! They really are just assholes no matter how you want to splice it! And, no matter how much the "right" wants to feed you a big pile of manure.... remember you are the guys getting fucked over!

These are the ideas which you should be upset about. You should not be upset with the left, right , center.... NO, you should be upset with the system that is in place.

The corporations, the congress... the presidency.... the whole upper structure could be your adversary; not your enemy... we are all Americans after all. Use the system to your advantage!

The upper stratosphere is where we should launch our philosophical balloons to explode with our griefs and our complaints about injustices.

Those that are soaring into these lofty plains and bubbles of existence should realize that their over inflated existence is tied to "all" our bubbles being inflated and elevated into the stratosphere.

Without us... all the helium will be deflated and we will all be searching on the same plane of existence. If this comes to pass.... trust me; the middle and high class existences will be the first to become extinct! Survival of the fittest.

So where are we now? Well, the Republicans are on a very precarious precipice! Just like the white man is fading into the sunset..... well:

The Republican Party will either morph into something that actually works for the average person or it will go the way of the Do Do Bird.

For the time being, it is representing ideas and philosophies that are dated and antiquated.

So... my philosophy to the masses is the following: Look to a party that represents your true beliefs! Look to a political party that correlates to your sense of right and wrong.

As for me personally my friend, although I was once reticent to admit it, I now not only lean but fully embrace the views of the Democrats!!!!!

Shit!

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 07:57:00 +0000

Yeah... I know that is not really an appropriate title for a journal entry. But I really don't give a shit. No... I don't. I am just feeling a little lethargic. Ups and downs always. I mean the minute I think I, my family, my country is making a giant step forward... I am slapped in the face and I feel like I just fell off the cliff!

Don't Ask Don't Tell was repealed today... Fuck yeah! End of discrimination in one form and then the DREAM Act is defeated for kids that were brought to this country when they were two years old and are treated like they are fucking aliens from another planet. "Yeah... fuck those guys... send them back."

Nice... great fucking attitude. Maybe we should send your old wrinkled Senator ass back to Ireland, England, Germany or wherever the fuck your relatives came from... you hypocritical piece of old man shit! Like you are so much more deserving of this country then the guy from Mexico that actually lived on this continent for a whole hell of a lot longer than your ancestry! You fucking hypocrite.

Ol man MC Cain... To think at one point I actually admired this man. This guy has lost his soul! Good lord man... how do you look at yourself in the mirror? You used to be an advocate for the disadvantaged now you would sell your mother for a vote!

It just gets so hard to see the good anymore! I need to focus on the good. Becuase in actuality the good really does outweigh the bad! I just focus too narrowly like a laser on the bad. It takes over my sub conscious and I put too much emphasis on the bad! Although an ounce of bad does pretty much weigh 20 lbs of good.

I mean good should just be a given... and when it is not... we can't help but focus on that.. right?

Or is it just me? Am I the only nut job that gives a shit? WTF?

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 04:38:00 +0000

"A Night Like This" - The Cure

Say goodbye on a night like this
If it's the last thing we ever do
You never looked as lost as this
Sometimes it doesn't even look like you
It goes dark
It goes darker still
Please stay
But I watch you like I'm made of stone
As you walk away

Man I used to play the hell out of this song back in high school! I love the Cure! Yeah... I really love the Cure! Their words had so much meaning... deep meaning for me back then. When I hear them now I am brought back to my days of youth and young love...

A great deal of our youth is spent in crazy, passionate love right? That love that hurts so bad it hurts to move sometimes. Yeah, we were either in love, yearning for love or writhing in pain from broken love.

Emotions so penetrating and raw, they made us grow up so fast. The Cure followed me all the way through High School and College. It followed my highs and lows in love and relationships.

As I grew older I stopped listening to The Cure for some reason. Perhaps I could draw some "pseudo-meaningful" reason for that. Or perhaps, I just started listening to other music. Who knows!

YouTube has become my new friend in drawing me back into older music I hadn't listened to in a long time. Kick back, have a few beers and throw on The Cure or Depeche Mode and I can teleport back to those youthful days.... Friday night football games, dances in the gym, rallies in the auditorium, walking down the hall and hoping to get a glimpse of that one girl....

or in the words of Robert Smith:

Say hello on a day like today
Say it everytime you move
The way that you look at me now
Makes me wish I was you
It goes deep
It goes deeper still
This touch
And the smile and the shake of your head

I'm coming to find you if it takes me all night

Can't stand here like this anymore

For always and ever is always for you

I want it to be perfect

Like before

I want to change it all

I want to change

Thanksgiving in Perspective

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Thu, 24 Nov 2011 04:59:00 +0000

I suppose you could say I am thankful for the courage of a small few that decided to leave all life that they ever knew.... hopped on a small wooden ship and headed west. I mean come on... that takes balls!

I suppose I could show even more respect for the Paleo-Indians who came here over 12,000 years ago.... showing even greater courage as they migrated over the land bridge from Eurasia and spread out all over North, Central and South America.

I suppose we should all give thanks that the latter group decided to help out the former group when they were on the cusp of extinction. We should also realize that "but for" that union we would not all now be living and "flowering in this generation... triumphantly." O.K. the last few words were actually Bob Marley.

Always give credit where credit is due!

Yes... our Native American brethren shared their food with us during that cold, severe winter. They harbored us. They embraced us. They allowed us to live in their world.

When our politicians espouse their philosophies on immigration.... Let's at least try to keep the true historical record in perspective.

Above all else, there are no borders in humanity... there are only families helping other families and protecting them in their time of need. There are only individuals protecting and giving sustenance and warmth to courageous strangers that have arrived on wooden ships.... on the shores of hope.

Stop Fucking us Over

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Wed, 16 Nov 2011 08:03:00 +0000

Listening to a little Bob Dylan:

Oh yeah brother.

The "Times are a-Changin"

SO PROPHETIC!

Today we live on the cusp of GIANT change!

Are we not now moving with blinding speed into a society that will offer true justice and equality to all?

Is it not now the time to take back our society?
Can we not now scream the following in unison????

No longer will we sit back and be passive.

No longer will we sit back and accept inequality.

No longer will we accept the status-quo.

No longer will we be content with injustices.

No longer will we be guided by the charlatans who prosper and grow by our ignorance.

No longer will we be misled by the politicians that deceive us into their web of trickery and deception only to prosper themselves and leave us to pay the bills!

NO NOT NOW!

Now is the time for the masses to be heard! It is time for all the people of this country to awake and find clarity in our message.

It is time for us to unite as one and say... "diplomatically": Stop Fucking us Over! Stop allowing this rigged system to prosper. Let's unite! We all want the same thing. Let's stop letting them divide us! Let's unite and take control of this bullshit!

LET'S VOTE AS ONE IN 2012!

Well perhaps Dylan can say it a little more diplomatically!

Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway
Don't block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There's a battle outside
And it is ragin'
It'll soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin'.

-Bob Dylan

Cobwebs, Cleaning, Advertising and the Net...

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Sat, 05 Nov 2011 04:06:00 +0000

Such bold and fast movements in our society these days. It used to be that, as a company, you worked hard... put out a good product, placed an ad in the Yellow Pages and then managed your company.

In today's fast paced technological society; we are now tasked with not only working hard, putting out a good product, placing ads in multiple sources of media including print, and the internet. However, now as an added bonus we have the pleasure to work almost full time working on the internet ads.

We no longer have the Yellow Page companies to design the perfect ad. We no longer have these advertising company's reps as advocates for our business. No, we must now work constantly on internet ads that change from day to day and to whom large internet company's only care in the world is how many "clicks" my company generates.

They no longer truly care in my company progressing and prospering so that I might grow and purchase a bigger Yellow Page ad next year. No, the sole concern is how much I am willing to pay for the next person to click on my website and possibly call to make an appointment.

Meanwhile, as a company that prides itself on consistency and quality in the cleaning business, I am still tasked with letting my crews know to clean out the cobwebs in the corners of the rooms when they perform their General Cleaning Services. Reminding them to hit the light switch plates or areas that might not be noticed.

Add to these multifaceted problems we now must deal with the occasional dissatisfied customer whose sole desire is to spew venom about your company all over the internet. The fact that that your company cleans hundreds of homes a week to satisfied customers takes a backseat to the negative comments on the internet of the one person that has never had their home professionally cleaned in their life. The one customer whose expectations are completely out of the realm of sanity. The customer that expects miracle workers to come into their home which hasn't been cleaned in years and within one hour perform that miracle. Then, when that miracle is not completed within the one hour time frame that same person berates you all over the internet!

Meanwhile, the other 100's of satisfied customer's, don't ever even fathom to write a positive review for you over the internet because they are happy! AHHHHH..... At times, this can be disheartening!

However, I don't let all the negativity bring me down. I fight on. I love my employees. I love my company. I take pride in the work we perform. I know that our company serves a noble purpose. I know that so many people enjoy a sense of calm and positivity from the work that we perform. I know that I am a fighter and I will change and adapt and move forward. I know that our company blows away the competition. I know that we work our butts off and I know that in the end....

Our strengths overwhelmingly outweigh our flaws! And not to sound too sappy, but as I stated previously...our cause is noble.

That's Entertainment!

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 05:36:00 +0000

"Ramble on"... Yeah... nice... "ramble on." Zeppelin right? That song rocks! Or we could always go w the Circle Jerks... "I was so wasted!" HA HA HA HA!!!

Nice... so I have reached the Psalms and soon the Proverbs on my Bible Journey.

Nice... finally getting away from the history and the right side brain work... now delving into some poetry... a little easier reading... let the left side flow.

Not sure I am in total agreement with the whole left side, right side view. I mean, you are using your whole brain... maybe it has more to do with using your brain and your heart (soul??) in unison.

I mean, we are talking about evaluating your existence in this world. I mean... yeah, it is great to meander around in this world... acquiring wealth, building bigger nests and the like... but when you get right down to it... there has to be some higher meaning... unless you live in some freaking abnormal cocoon...

Let's get real! What is life? What is our purpose? Where are we going? If anywhere? Can we move forward on a higher plane? Can we somehow find an intersecting point from the life we lead and this earthly plane into a more metaphysical higher plane? And if so, can we recognize that point and diverge our path to continue on to that higher plateau?

I would think that these matters are obviously of much more significance than all the bullshit that we must observe on a day to day basis.

Did our ancestors get closer to that plateau than us? The Egyptians? The Sumerians? The Mayans? Perhaps they did attain that level... perhaps they progressed into that new plane.

Can our society reach that level? I think we are potentially on the precipice of a significant movement towards that end goal. However, I also feel that we are also teetering on the edge of falling into an abyss.; Well not completely the abyss of "the end." Yet... just a serious step backwards from where we need to go.

However, I do see a strong sense of positivity and strength emerging to guide us forward... We just need the people in the middle to think rationally and sensibly and push us "with an omnipotent storm" forward to keep us on the path!

Or we could always follow in the steps of the Jam:

Waking up at 6 a.m. on a cool morning
Opening the windows and breathing in petrol
An amateur band rehearses in a nearby yard
Watching the telly and thinking 'bout your holidays'

Now That's Entertainment....

-The Jam

CASE CLOSED ASSHOLE

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 05:07:00 +0000

Oh man... negativity be gone. Ever dealt with a person who is completely insane? Or in my situation, a tenant that is completely insane? You try to be a good guy and fix a toilet and the next thing you know you are being accused of subjecting the tenant to mold, asbestos, lead and any other invention they can find on the internet?

Have you ever walked into a person's home to evaluate a problem.... leave to buy a new toilet to help out the tenant and return with your workers and then be accused of assaulting "said" insane tenant that you never touched and then being "citizen's arrested"?

Have you ever had to take a lunatic to court to get them out of your property since they refused to pay any rent and then have to hire an attorney costing thousands of dollars and then having to defend yourself that your house never had any mold, asbestos or lead and that the "said" insane person is just working the system?

Have you ever showed up prepared to battle your opponent on all the merits of truth and the knowledge of right overcoming wrong... and then to have your opponent show up and basically throw in the towel and turn over the keys to your property and say they have moved out?

Have you ever had to witness the same "insane" person beg the court to waive court fees and the judge allowing it?

Have you ever had to watch that same "insane" piece of shit walk out of the court completely unscathed... as you have just lost thousands upon thousands of dollars defending yourself for nothing....?

Well, Case Closed on getting Mr. Insanity out of my house!

However, Case open on my next venture of dragging Mr. Nuts back into court to get a judgment for all I am out! Oh and don't think I have forgot my false "citizen's arrest".... oh yeah that's gonna cost said "insane" asshole a LOT of money.

Holy Diver and the Bible!!!!

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Fri, 16 Sep 2011 05:23:00 +0000

I think Ronnie James Dio is a huge Bible fan!

So I have been reading the bible as I previously mentioned. I am really digging it! I would say this is definitely right up there with such epic works as War and Peace by Tolstoy which I had the pleasure to read while I lay in a hammock in Nicaragua while serving in the Peace Corpse from 1995-1997.

The Bible is an epic adventure of untold proportions. Wow... combine history, fable, strength, weakness, pain and struggles, triumph, defeat, victory, loss, suffering, sadness, elation, adventure, peace, war, Now mix all that with poetry, humor, wisdom, teachings and philosophy.

I am still working my way through the good book. I would say i am about 40% through. Ok maybe only 35%....it's a long book! Man.... I am feeling good about my progress. Just like War and Peace... it does get bogged down in names and places at times... but it picks back up! I feel really good and definitely I am feeling good about my progress. I am simultaneously reading World history books and geographical books to align all these events and to filter it all out. I mean everything must be read through a scholarly yet receptive and reticent prism in order to search for true meaning!Now shall we progress?

O.K. Holy Diver? I mean what the fuck right? How can I put Holy Diver by Ronnie James Dio: lead singer Black Sabbath, Rainbow and Dio in the same context of the Holy Bible? Well do not let ignorance blind your vision... Ronnie was singing about all those epic stories that I have been reading about in the bible. The highs and lows... the strengths and weaknesses. The struggles and battles.

At times we all must face this battle. Negative waves of evil and darkness will confront us. These are the times we must look deep within our souls, we must hunker down and let the storms rage above our head, we must keep calm and look for inner solace. Let the fury rage above our heads and not through our hearts. Let all that pain and negativity decompress and deflate. This darkness can come from even the closest places we least expect.

However, no matter how hard the fury rages... no matter how much fear our enemy tries to invoke.... all that strength and that mighty storm will collapse and dissipate just as fast as it flew into our lives. I know... I have been fighting the good battle for the last 2 weeks! At a certain point you will realize that you have seen the summit of a person's evil. You have seen the best that this rage has to show you!

At this point you will now have the strength to rise up, assess your damages, gather your wits, flex your muscle and come down with a mighty fury on this evil! You soon realize.... You are a fighter! You are the True Power! Now you stand tall! You scream to the evil, "That's it" ? "That's all you have"? 9 times out of 10 you don't even have to do battle.

The great fury will now cower away and run. Your words will send fear to not only this negativity but to all the negativity that is near. In the unlikely event that you must do battle, your strength is so omnipotent your enemies are crushed in battle! These are the times we ride the tiger!!!!!

Between the velvet lies
There's a truth that's hard as steel
The vision never dies
Life's a never ending wheel

Holy Diver
You're the star of the masquerade
No need to look so afraid
Jump on the tiger
You can feel his heart but you know he's mean

Some light can never be seen
Race for the morning
You can hide in the sun 'till you see the light

Oh we will pray it's all right

Ronnie Dio RIP brother! July 10, 1942 – May 16, 2010

Been reading the Bible lately...

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Tue, 23 Aug 2011 01:39:00 +0000

People have such weird reactions when you tell them you are reading the Bible. Fanatic, manic depressive, and my Favorite: What the FUCK! .... so many varied and interesting reactions...

Well, I have to say: I have been bashing this book my whole life and rejecting everything that it has to say... but truth be told... I have never actually read it. So, I am going to read the good book and hold all judgment until I am done. I mean I really am a true hypocrite!

In all actuality... it is so different from what I thought. I thought it would be just some cult like... "I love god" type book.

So far from the truth. In actuality, I am actually digging it more because I have always enjoyed history. yeah that is all debatable.... however,

As far as making any metaphysical connections, true meanings... finding higher plateaus.... well this is my journey... I am working my way through the Bible... I have read the Koran and I need to read

The Analects
Veda
Upanishads
Tao-te-ching
Talmud
Five Classics
Bhagavad Gita

My reading list is before me... Lofty goals I am sure.

Hey... why work 9-5 without purpose... at least seek some higher purpose... right/ i mean what else is there???

What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul? Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul?

Matthew 16: 26

Bob keeps me grounded and soulful...

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Fri, 29 Jul 2011 04:50:00 +0000

Yes... life throws us in turmoil... spins us around like we are in a washing machine. Life shakes us like a rag doll... beats the shit out of us. Life can really try our faith and spirit...

When I find myself in these low... dark caverns; I bust out my Bob Marley... My spirits lift... I feel a sense of being... I become grounded and present. Life begins to have a semblance of clarity. Bob lifts me up! Bob sparks a fire within me and makes me soulful and content.

I'm listening to Bob as I type... my head sways from side to side... my inner "chi" is in line... meditation is achieved. Nirvana is still a possibility.

If even for such a brief and ever so forceful and meaningful time... i am transported and the mundane bullshit of day to day existence is trivial and meaningless... I am one w my spirit...

Wow... all that and No... I'm not smoking pot!!!! Here is to you Bob... a prophet in our day....

Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery
None but ourselves can free our mind
Woh, have no fear for atomic energy
'Cause none of them-a can-a stop-a the time
How long shall they kill our prophets
While we stand aside and look?
Yes, some say it's just a part of it
We've got to fullfill the book
Won't you help to sing
These songs of freedom?
'Cause all I ever had
Redemption songs
All I ever had
Redemption songs
These songs of freedom
Songs of freedom

Nesta Robert "Bob" Marley, February 6 1945 – May 11 1981 RIP!!!

Tweetle fucking Dee and Dweedle Fucking Dumb!

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Fri, 01 Jul 2011 03:55:00 +0000

So ambivalent about the state of things as we approach the culmination of years of obscurity and people trying to hide or change known truths or in the worse circumstances... believing in arcaic.... self serving ideological SHIT!

Thus the Tweedle Dee's and the Tweedle fucking Dumbs of the world slow the inevitable progression of man into the future and delay the launching of cerebral vessels into uncertain and unknown waters. Yet, now we flounder, into known waters and existences in which we so readily accept and fail to venture forward to discover!

Thus, this ideological ineptness of the passive and somewhat stupid "Twiddle Dee" is obscuring the future and driving the Tweedle Fucking Dumb down a blind and unrealistic future....

There are those that know and accept the true vision and destiny of the majority and the unknown... well... we shall never know the unknown... the only fact that we do actually know is that our destiny is an obscure path that leads us forward...

So for all you fucking idiots that try to open paths that lead backwards I say Fuck You and that we will forever progress... your stupidity will not further your cause and I only hope one day you will realize that your ignorance has only deterred those with a somewhat nodule of intelligence and a belief in that which is true and which shall be;

We are individuals... not pods of subhuman conformists! While our culture molds us in the latter.... our brains lead us to the former.... And as such, our paths will lead us to unknown truths about our existence and our ultimate purpose!!!

Therefore I say to you Tweedle Dee... take your friend Tweedle Dumb out to the desert and shoot him in his head and then take the gun and point it at yourself... and pull the fucking trigger....

Of course this is only a metaphor~~!!!!!

Easter

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Sun, 24 Apr 2011 01:51:00 +0000

So I am sitting here rocking to some old school music. The Cure. Man, I dig that band. Perhaps my all time favorite! Tomorrow is Easter. At what point to we slow down, stop and take it all in? At what time can we reflect on what it means to be here....

I think Easter must be one of those times.... it comes at a weird point. We are busy with school and work and all the bullshit that comes with our merry go round world...

The resurection. Wow... the defining moment in our history. The moment when our lives came to have meaning. How we interpret that meaning is diverse and immense. I am still trying to sort through these different feelings and beliefs... always searching for higher meaning and connections.

I have long ago decided that rejection of faith in its entirety is really not a truthful connection with my core yet a ploy to invoke feelings in others...

I strive to reach the plateau where my true feelings and desires reign supreme above all else. However this state of being must also be in relation to a strong sense of empathy for others.

This combination will lead me to a road of self satisfaction for both my self purpose and that of my fellow man. Lofty goals I am sure!

For now... I move ever subtly forward... creeping along... trying to make a difference... often failing!

Spinning the wheels

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Mon, 13 Dec 2010 05:42:00 +0000

Ever feel like you are spinning your wheels?

O.K. let's break that down... What do I really mean by saying spinning your wheels?

O.K. you have seen racecars on a racetrack right? Well when they try to take off a little too fast.... what with their tires being so smoothe.... at times the tires literally spin in circles but the vehicle goes nowhere.

I'm sure most people have driven in the rain and experienced this same phenomenon.

Well... sometimes I equate my life to this exact same motion. I move fast... in fact I sprint with all my might forward... I feel that I have travelled so far... and then I look around and I am at the same spot. Yeah.. that's right I am still at the same exact fucking spot in which I started. What? This makes no sense..... I was just running like a madman... I should be way farther ahead...right? Hello? Is anybody listening? I said... I was just running my fucking ass off like Jesse Owens and I have not moved an inch forward... What is that? What is that? What is that?

Well these are the telltale signs.... O.K. so if you ever go sailing... there are these small little strings or ribbons that are placed on the sails. At anytime you can look up and determine the wind and how your boat is moving by the direction of these "telltale sign".

If the ribbon is up... it means that the wind is blowing hard and you do not have your sails adjusted properly to catch all the wind and move faster. If the ribbon is blowing directly back you are sailing at the correct angle with the wind. If the ribbon is pointing directly down that means you have no wind and you are probably not moving!

So spiritually I feel my telltale signs are pointing down. I do not feel as though I am moving forward on my spiritual journey. I have come to these conclusions sporadically over the course of my life and each and every time I have felt these signals I have made a major shift. Usually this has involved some type of major travelling journey.

For now... I know I must remain grounded... although I am being called for a journey... I know it is somewhat distant. Although I know I must make this journey eventually to progress on my path.

For now... I must be content in the small strides I make on a daily basis.... tiny steps on a path that is pulling me farther and farther away from my current location!

I must remain grounded. Although my future and my destiny is forever skyward...

Embracing the hood or breaking free...

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Fri, 05 Nov 2010 03:44:00 +0000

So I have opened up this little thrift store in a strip mall across the street from my true business www.aperfectshine.com. OK that was a little plug.... Anyways I own the building where I have my office...

Many years back... I was asked numerous times if we did trash outs and hauling and the like... of course whenever these questions arised my little brain started reacting like the hamster in the cage.... ok yes the wheels were turning....

So eventually I bought a pick up truck and said yes to the next person that asked that question. Over time I purchased bigger and bigger trucks to the point that when I bought my current office... little did i know I was already at maximum capacity with the big truck the little truck, the carpet cleaning vans and the maid services cars...

Next thing I know we had begun doing yard sales in front of the office on a regular basid due to all the big stuff and sometimes good stuff that we were obtaining....

So I eventually came to the realization that we should open up a thrift store across the street in the strip mall in front of us. O.K. so I negotiated a killer lease... I got all the crap out of our lot in the back of our cleaning operation and moved into the new digs across the street.

Now the people have embraced us and we are doing decent money... at least enough to break even. However the owners of the stripmall are assholes and do not want to support or embrace a new company. We have floated the idea of perhaps renting a bigger area up to 5,000 sq ft... with paying more and in addition adding in the fact that we would maintain the property.... clean, sweep, pressure wash, etc... it is funny to see how owners w money can be so ignorant! I mean this strip mall has several (A LOT) vacancies and I feel one reason is the cleanliness of the area..

I am willing to help out in that area... But eventually I keep coming back to the prospect of whether I should invest all this time and energy into "the hood"! I mean I could easily shift my whole operation into a more positive business friendly area... up north....

Yeah I would pay a little more, but maybe make more money and deal w other more simple problems as opposed to the "hood" problems...

I alays felt like I wanted to embrace the hood and thrive in the hood! I have... but now where do I go? Do I need to break out of the hood or continue to prosper and negotiate all the obstacles that are a part of the hood?

Tough questions...

Chillin in La Mesa Part 2

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Thu, 21 Oct 2010 06:48:00 +0000

Trivialities of Life

Wow.... life is such a huge balancing act. Human emotions are so weak and fragile. Frienships snap like a weak fragile vase dropping precariously to the ground. What we view as reality one day... is magically transformed to a new alternate reality the next. And so we traverse down this path day in and day out. We balance so softly on an air of vulnerability never knowing where to go or from where we have left...

We circulate mindlessly, weightless.... void of matter... forever being bounced from one circumstance to the next.... forever longing for stability and meaning...

We search for the strength of land as we bounce around in a sea of uncertainty... and all the false possessions we have acquired over time become moot and meaningless....

And so we move endlessly forward always trying to obtain the prevailing winds of exhultation, exhuberance and contentment!

Chillin in La Mesa Part 1

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Fri, 17 Sep 2010 03:21:00 +0000

So I am back in San Diego listening to The Cure. I took about two weeks off when I got back.... basically recovering from my vacation! I mean you need to rev it up slowly after slowing down to a turtle's pace right?

Now I am back almost full throttle. I have been working my ass off. Perhaps even more than I have in the past 4 years! I am definitely getting tired and wondering where it is all going. Although I seem to slow down considerably in Nicaragua, I feel I have more meaning.

I think life can only be pure when there is meaning in it. We need to feel as though we are making some contribution to this world on a personal level. I do believe that our children are our greatest work and our ongoing memories... however I do think that we as individuals must also leave some sort of footprint on this world. This footprint can be a small imprint or a large neanderthal footprint... but it is imperative that we do leave that footprint in order for us to feel some sense of purpose.

I think we as a society become confused with materialistic bullshit to such a degree that we become blind and are somehow led to believe that acquiring wealth leads to the footprint in which we want to leaving on the world.

I think for me I seek financial gain so that I can have some form of freedom. I am seeking freedom from the time and the constraints that are forced upon me to obtain the money that leads to that freedom. I hope that I can aquire that freedom and wealth so that my kids will always have a larger air of freedom and that more of their time can be used to plant their footprint in this world and less of their time is needed to aquire wealth.

Although deep inside I know that true freedom comes from pursuing happiness and not pursuing the almighty dollar. The problem is that we are so ingrained from birth to seek the dollar that it is hard to break out of the cycle! I mean my brain is like a living dollar calculator... constantly calculating dollars and determining how many I have... how many I need and how I can get more!

Fucked up little cycle right? Hopefully I can learn the trick to pull my kids out of that cycle. Hopefully they can just maintain wealth and not need to pursue it so rigorously!

Chillin at the Rancho Part 5 - The Final Chapter

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Tue, 03 Aug 2010 22:39:00 +0000

So I am laying in bed today at about 3 P.M. taking what has become my daily siesta, when I hear what I thought was my fan going from low to high. Now power fluctuations are a common occurrence down here so I didn’t think much about it.

Then the sound gets louder and I think it must be a big truck outside passing by. The noise continues to get louder and louder so I decide to turn off my fan a little worried. No it’s not the fan about to explode.

Now it sounds like a Mack truck is about to drive right through my house. So I decide I better get up and investigate. So I go outside and it turns out it is pouring down rain. Nice! It seems like the last few times I have come to Nicaragua it has always been during the dry season. I think I need to reconsider that in the future. It is so beautiful and peaceful during the rainy season!

So I have to admit, I am seriously jonesing for an In and Out burger! And yes… I do want onions on that! Are you going to be eating this in your car? Uhhhh yeah…. In fact don’t even bother putting that stupid little wrapper on it because this burger ain’t even making it out of the parking lot!

So I will be heading back to the States in a few days. My trip down memory lane will be coming to a close…

After I finished the Peace Corps Mari and I were married in my backyard at my house in Nicaragua. We were married under giant palm fronds made into an arch. We were surrounded by Mango and avocado trees. Her father donated a pig and we had a rip roaring bbq and fiesta.

Soon all my fellow Peace Corps friends were off on their own adventures. Mitch and Jason traveled down to Peru and Machu Pichu. Others went to Costa Rica and other countries. Eventually we all made it back to the States.

Mari and I decided to travel back to San Diego by land. This would be one of several land trips we would make back and forth between San Diego and Nicaragua by land. When we finally arrived in San Diego we struggled. It took me a few months to get a job and we were really hitting the bottom of the barrel.

I mean we are talking counting our change to make ends meet. I would put on the monkey suit each day and go out hitting the pavement. Mari was begging me to work but I told her to just learn English. I am the provider, Grrrr, grrrr.

Finally I got my little corporate job. I would put on my monkey suit each day and I would head to my office Monday through Friday. Awesome, I’m the rat in the cage again. Come on man, really? This really can’t be happening again….

Hey I was making good money and we were able to move into a nice new apartment. We started buying shit! I mean hey this is what it’s all about right? Ummmm not so much! After about a year I was ready to slit my freakin wrists. I told Mari we needed to do something drastic or I was going to go off the rails on Ozzy’s Crazy Train.

So we decided we would save up and move back to Nicaragua. Nice! I had a plan! We started saving every penny we could. We scrimped and saved. No eating out. No buying clothes or any frivolous shit. We were leading a pauper’s life. We moved back in with my mom to save.

In the mean time I was having some serious issues with my job. We were a finance company. We would loan money to people to purchase houses, land and mobile homes. My job was to analyze the loans and see whether they were good risks.

Well I started telling my bosses no, this guy is a high risk… I mean shit he works at Taco Bell and you want to give him 150K. No way. We had sales guys that worked out in the field at Mobile Home Parks whose sole job was to have the people looking to buy the new mobile homes and the land to fund it through our company. They got a commission on the dollar amount funded. In fact everybody was operating on a commission structure on how much we funded. Well these sales agents would get pissed when you rejected a loan and they would ask to speak to a V.P.

Soon the V.P would come out of his office and say go ahead and fund the loan. What… did you hear what I said dude? Taco Bell! Well you sign off on that one big guy… not me.

Towards the end of each month there was a mad dash to meet our quota of funding x amount of loans… so basically anybody with a pulse that applied for a loan was getting approved. I knew this was a whole house of cards and I just wanted to get my money and get out!

So at the end of a year I had managed to save a whopping $14,000. This was my nest egg that I was going to use to live in Nicaragua for the rest of our lives. Now I had planned on starting a business when I reached Nicaragua so I was planning on supplementing my giant nest egg.

So I had previously purchased a burly ass 6.9 liter F250 Ford truck. Used of course! I then bought a cab over camper with a stove, bathroom, bed and a hot water shower. Oh yeah baby. We also bought a small box style trailer to haul the majority of our worldly possessions.

So I quit my job finished loading up and away we went. Goodbye U.S. Hello distant adventures! Our plan was to go down Baja and then ferry over to the mainland and camp out and surf and fish for a couple months! Yes… now I am really going to be living! Did I mention we had a yard sale before we left and I sold every last suit and tie I owned in the world? Yes baby here we go!

I later learned that my division of the company I worked at closed down about 6 months after I left. Several years later when the U.S. economy tanked there was my former company on the front page. They were the first major bank to close up shop.

Have you ever heard of a little company called Indy Mac? Well that was my company. I read recently how they are starting to round up several of the big wigs and charging them with a whole litany of crimes.

Ok comes on boys and girls… repeat after me… you know it’s coming… K-A-R-M-A.

So we get to the border of Mexico on the Sea of Cortez side and start to head into untold adventures when the I am motioned to pull over. They then begin to tell me that I can’t enter this border because I am a “transportista”. A transporter.

What? No, dude I am an American about ready to live out every person’s fantasy. What the fuck are you talking about?

Sorry they tell me but you need to go to the next border crossing east of here. But, dude, I want to go down Baja… I got my surfboards and my fishing pole. I’m ready to rock and roll.

“O.K. well what is all that shit in your trailer then he says?”

Well those are all my worldly possessions… in fact that is all the crap I could find at various swap meets and junk I had laying around in my garage. I also have about a 1,000 pounds of books that my wife told me I was an idiot to bring!

“Yeah Gringo… you are a transportista. Adios.”

O.K. no problem… just a minor hiccup in my major adventure. I will just go down the mainland of Mexico and hit all the beaches on the Pacific Coast. Time to pull out the map.

So we make it over to some border town in Arizona. We are once again about to drop into Mexico, when I am motioned to the side, AGAIN. Once again I am told I am a “transportista”. Once again I am told that I must go farther east to the next border crossing.

O.K. what the hell is this whole “transportista” thing? So I would continue to drive east and drop down to one border crossing after another and I would be told to keep going east.

Eventually we ended up in the most eastern part of Texas and there we saw semi after semi in long lines trying to enter Mexico. OK now I understand what they mean by transporter. So we get to the border and they tell us that yes indeed this is the border crossing but that I need to find an agent who needs to fill out a bunch of paper work in order to enter Mexico.

WTF? Shit I have been driving into Mexico since I had a license to drive at 16 and I don’t remember any of this shit. So we find an agent and he tells us it’s going to be $500 to process the paperwork. What? Are you kidding me? Come on bro I got 14K to last me the rest of my life and you want $500 to fill out some forms? Alright… $300 he says. AHHHH…. O.K. Make it $200 any you have a deal, I tell him. He says $250 and away we go. Man… we are still in the U.S. too!

“OK. What exactly do you have in your trailer” he asks me.

Oh man it’s really just a bunch of crap. I’ve got boxes of nails, screws, old crappy yard sale tools, and 1,000 pounds of books. “Well you have to list everything you have… each box” He says.

Now I had loaded up like 100 boxes of just random crap… junk. So now here I am in some sweaty Texas border town pulling out box upon box of random valueless crap. We opened each box and labeled what was in it. As we opened up each box even I was appalled at the amount of worthless crap I had brought. So we get it all packed back up and the guy comes back with a folder full of paperwork and then he slaps a giant label across my windshield that says TRANSPORTISTA.

I would later learn that this sign was like a giant blinking neon sign for every cop in every town in Mexico to pull me over and harass me and try to bribe me for money!

We crossed into Mexico and didn’t make it more than an hour into Mexico when we were pulled over. Papeles? Papers? Pasaporte? They would keep me for the longest time looking for any random thing to get a bribe. In the end they would say “Deme algo para las aguas”. Give me something to buy water. In other words give them some money or you are going to be here for awhile. I paid!

This would become such an occurring theme throughout Mexico that we finally gave up on our big adventurous surf and fish trip along the Pacific Coast of Mexico. We decided to make a beeline for Nicaragua. We were traveling the same route as all the rest of the Semi’s that worked their way down through Mexico and Central America.

Gas anyone?

These guys are some of the most hard core drivers in the world. They drive these big rigs in the most crazy hairball roads; skinny, narrow, potholed roads dealing with rain, fog, cops, etc…. I learned to respect these guys and they definitely helped me out a couple times when my truck acted up. They are all mechanics. American truck drivers would only last about 2 days driving these roads before they had a nervous breakdown!

I soon got into the mindset that I would just drive my ass off and we would get to Nicaragua as fast as humanly possible. I would begin my big adventure in Nicaragua instead! No problem… I can roll with the punches.

For the most part I got away with the occasional $1 or $2 bribe with the local cops and sheriffs. The Mexican military was a different story and when an 18 year old kid with an AK47 started yelling at me one night I was more than content to thrown him a $10 bill. Soon I would learn that whenever you saw small tin cans on either the side of the road with flames coming out of them… a military checkpoint was coming up. If at all possible it was time to pull over and sleep for the night!

One time some cop pulls me over and checks everything out and finally tells me that the lights on my trailer are too narrow. Too what? Are you kidding me? I lost it. Now if this whole rig is legal in the U.S. It sure as hell is legal in this shit-hole country. I mean you got guys driving in the middle of the night with no freaking headlights or tail lights and you are trying to give me a ticket!

Apparently that did not go over well with him… but a crisp 5 dollar bill did… and away we went again.

I would end up driving from about 5 a.m. to 10 P.M. for the next week. As we approached the border of Guatemala it started raining and raining and raining. It was coming down in buckets. We are talking torrential downpour. It rained so hard you could barely see more than 5-10 feet ahead of you as you drove. I soon began driving with my face almost completely plastered to the windshield! You could only drive 20-30 miles per hour.

Finally we reached the border of Guatemala and Mexico. They told us that the border was closed and that there was some major storm hitting Central America but especially Nicaragua. What? Now when I lived in Nicaragua, every time there was mention of some giant storm, it always turned out to be some storm in the Caribbean and when it hit the coast of Nicaragua it would turn into a tropical storm and dump lots of rain but nothing major… just perhaps a minor flood through a home that was located to close to a river..

So I tell the guy at the border that I am a diplomat and that I have to be in Nicaragua within 3 days. We go through some back and forth and eventually he pulls me to the side and tells me that if I come back early in the morning that he can get me through. So I do… and I end up giving the guy like $100 bucks or so and he hurries me to some guy who stamps my passport and then another guy gives me a customs clearance and away we go. Welcome to Guatemala.

Well I mange to take the wrong road and the next thing you know I am driving down a one way road in this little town. Shit. Remember I got my trailer and you can’t just turn around. The next thing you know I have half the town surrounding my truck jumping in the window… telling me to let them help me. So I get out of the truck unhook the trailer… mange to do like a 10 point turn and then I notice ½ the town is wheeling my trailer around. I thought that at any moment they were just going to wheel into somebody’s home. Wishful thinking.

I finally mange to get it hooked back up and now everybody is surrounding me asking me for money.

I tell them I have it in the truck and they let me get in and I manage to get the windows up as fast as I could. I threw out the last bit of Peso’s I had left from Mexico and I drove out of there fast with the town hot on my trail!

At one point I found myself driving up some crazy mountain in Guatemala. I had tried to make a short cut on my trip. My map showed me the quickest route from A to B but failed to point out that I would have to drive over the largest mountain in Guatemala.

So I am driving at night, it is raining and then the fog rolls in. I’m talking fog so thick you cannot see anything type fog. I could literally see about a foot in front of the hood of my truck. I was driving like 5 miles per hour scared out of my mind. All of a sudden a big rig blows his horns and comes barreling around the side of my truck….when he came around alongside me his powerful lights lit up the side of the road. I could see that the side of the road dropped straight down. A giant drop thousands of feet down and there was absolutely zero guard rails.

Apparently these truckers have some super human eye sight because one after another of these semi’s kept blowing by me. I kept driving along at 5 MPH. I would have gone even slower if it was possible. I finally made it up and down. My hands would barely open after the death grip I had on my steering wheel going over that godforsaken mountain.

It took most of the day to get through Guatemala and when we did get to the border of El Salvador they told us once again that the border is closed and that there is a huge storm pounding Nicaragua. Well I know this story and once again I go into bribe mode. This time they were not taking bribes and they said I needed to empty my trailer. So there I was for the next 2 hours emptying out a trailer full of crap. Did I mention the 1,000 pounds of books?

Eventually after opening about the 80th box of books and junk they seemed to realize that I had absolutely nothing of value to take from me. They told me to load my shit up and to go talk to their boss who just showed up. After some careful negotiations and another $50 bribe they stamped my passport and told me to move on. Welcome to El Salvador!

El Salvador is when we started noticing the roads were really messed up. I was sued to potholes and crappy roads but now we were seeing crater size holes in the freeway, giant boulders on the highway, detours around blown out bridges, etc… At times we would drive through muddy dirt roads and my camper would be rocking so hard from side to side that I thought it would fall off.

This is also about the time that my little trailer started having major issues. First the wheel wells caved in and started rubbing on the tires. What’s that burning rubber smell? Oh shit it’s the trailer. Then the tires blew out. Then the axel needed more support. I started spending a considerable amount of my time laying underneath that freaking trailer. Most times I had the pleasure of laying in a puddle of mud in the pouring down rain. Good times.

Whenyou have a flat... you better hope you see this:

We would get a support bracket welded in one town and barely make it to the next when we needed to get a new weld or tire or some other problem. The trailer had no suspension and tiny tires. Oh did I mention the 1,000 pounds of books my wife told me to leave behind?

We would eventually move almost all the boxes into our camper which left it basically unusable, and we basically dragged the camper the rest of the way.

When we reached the border of Honduras they told us absolutely not. You cannot pass! By now we had found out the storm was actually a Hurricane and it had a name. Hurricane Mitch was pummeling Nicaragua and Honduras and all the borders were closed.

Hey I am a diplomat and I need to be in Nicaragua in 2 days. That and a crisp $100 bill got me into Honduras. Hello Honduras. So we drive farther and farther into Honduras and we are so happy because we only need to cross one more border and we are in Nicaragua!

We finally come to a bridge that is just basically gone… disappeared. Now this is the bridge that leads to Nicaragua… gone. OK well we can head over to the capitol of Honduras and go over the border on that side. Uhhh No. It turns out that the bridge going to the capitol of Honduras, Tegucigalpa is gone too!

Ok by this time I am starting to rethink this whole new adventurous lifestyle I signed up for. Actually I was inventing new swear words that were a combination of English and Spanish. So Mari and I wander around the town and we finally see a lady in her doorway that has a very large yard. We tell her our calamity and ask if we could pay her to store out truck camper and trailer in her yard. She says yes and to not worry about paying her. We later found out that parts of her town had been buried in up to 10 feet of mud and several thousand people had lost their lives.

So we park the truck and Mari and I start hiking to Nicaragua. We basically would climb down a ladder to a river… cross the river in a boat that some guy had, then we would climb back up some makeshift ladder. Then we would move onto a portion of the Pan American Freeway and hitch or rent a ride for about a kilometer or two until the road literally came to an end due to the fact that a river had washed it away. We would then hike through mud until we came to the next section of freeway.

This is the way we worked our way through Honduras. We would sleep at random people’s homes and enterprising people would sell food along the route. This just shows you how resilient these people are. They made due with the situation.

When we finally got to the border of Nicaragua there was nobody there. We just walked across the border and continued our hike through Nicaragua. We eventually made it to Mari’s parents’ house in Pueblo Nuevo.

There would be no electricity or running water for the next 2 months. We made do. We got water from wells and we listened to the radio with batteries.

Eventually the electricity was restored, water came back. After 2 months they had made enough detours to allow traffic to once again flow through Central America. We decided to return to Honduras for our truck and belongings.

So when we get to the border of Nicaragua and Honduras what does the Immigration asshole tell me? Hey you don’t have a stamp that allowed you to enter into Nicaragua and you need to pay a fine. Umm excuse me buddy…. There was nobody manning the border when I got here. Don’t you remember there was a little thing called Hurricane Mitch that just wiped out a giant portion of your country?

Well you still need to pay the fine he says. O.K. enough is enough. Listen up fucker, I happen to be an American Diplomat working in Nicaragua! Am I going to have to call the embassy and then have the embassy call your boss?

Welcome back to Honduras…

The lady who stored all our crap was so nice that we tried to give her some money. She wouldn’t take a dime. When we finally arrived back to the border of Nicaragua we were told that we would have to go back to Managua and process all the paperwork. WTF? Apparently the giant TRANSPORTISTA sticker printed on our windshield gave us away. So some random border guy hops in our truck and away we go.

I managed to convince the guy to let us stop at our house for the night and to let us unload all our crap including my…. Yes here it comes… my 1,000 pounds of books!

The following morning we drove down to Managua and we were forced to leave our truck in storage in order to process all the paperwork. They would eventually want $1200 in import fees for the truck and another $500 to import the trailer.

At one point I got so fed up with all the run around that I demanded to speak to the head guy in charge of the importation department. So they lead me into some room and there is the biggest asshole I ever met. He pours himself a big fat rum and coke and asks me what the hell I want. That conversation did not go well and I was lucky they didn’t raise the fees on me. I would eventually pay the $1200 for the truck and another couple hundred for storage fees and I finally drove out of there with my F250 and my camper. I made sure to spit on that bastard trailer that gave me so much grief as I drove by it.

Mari’s parents owned a strip of land on one of the roads leading out of town. The land slopes down along the road and then behind the property is a hill leading to a small river which turns into a pretty big river after heavy rains. Her parent’s home was on one side of this strip of land.

We were living in this adobe style home with her family at the time. The roof was made out of Spanish tiles and when it rained you would get a nice mist flowing on you. We also had a stinky outhouse. I would bring matches each time I went to try to mask the smell. It didn’t help. I definitely needed to make a change.

Each day I would walk past the top portion of their property that was full of weeds and bushes and I kept thinking that I might be able to build a house there. I finally asked Mari about it and I’m not sure what her response was but everybody else told me that the property was too skinny and too sloped to build a house. But each day I passed that slope I just kept wondering.

One day I grabbed a machete and went up to that slope of land and just started whacking down brush. I worked my ass off all day and barely made any progress. I didn’t even know how to use a machete. I remember people from the neighborhood staring at me as they passed by. I could just imagine what they were thinking… that crazy Gringo!

The next day I grabbed my machete and went out to work. Not long after, a couple of young neighbor kids come over with their own machetes and start helping out. Then a few more show up and then a few more. The next thing you know I have almost all the neighborhood kids whacking down shrubs and bushes. It only took about 2 days and we cleared that lot. I paid the kids with popsicles and they were thrilled.

After clearing the lot I saw that it was indeed on a pretty big slope but I knew it was doable. I hired some local neighborhood men to start leveling out the land. Soon my father in law got on board with the project and away we went.

I started going down to the river each day with my F250 picking out large river boulders that we would mix with cement for the foundation. We would also fill up the truck with sand. One day as some kids and I were scattered about the river picking up boulders, I see a sand colored Humvee drive by me. What?
Then I see another, and then another. Then desert colored semi’s and bulldozers began blowing by me. What the? I look on the side of one of the Humvees and see USMC.

Now remember I am in the middle of nowhere. First of all I am in Nicaragua. Second I am way up in the mountains of Nicaragua. Third I am in a small town in a very remote region of Nicaragua. Needless to say I was a little confused to see the United States Marine Corps and a parade of vehicles cruising down my road. UUUU RAH! I started yelling to the kids helping me, hey that’s my country!

The marines start parking around the river and I decided to go over to one of the parked Humvees and ask the guy inside what’s going on. I mean what the fuck… are we at war with Nicaragua and somebody forgot to tell me?

So I go up to some 18 year old looking kid and say, “Hey, what’s going on?”

Well the kid driving the Humvee looked as though he was about to have a heart attack. Apparently he was just as surprised to see me as I am to see him. He says to me, “Are you American?” I say, “yes.”

“Oh man… what are you doing here in the middle of nowhere?” he asks. “Dude, I live right up the street, I tell him.”

“Holy shit” he says. He would go onto tell me that they were down helping out the country because of all the destruction Hurricane Mitch had left in its wake. I looked around at all the other Marines and my first thought was how young they looked. They were kids!

The next thing you know I am surrounded by 18 year old Marines asking me a thousand questions about me and Nicaragua. The guys ended up giving me wire and all kinds of supplies. I asked them to come hang out with me at my house but they told me that they had gotten into a fight at a local bar and now they were all on lockdown staying at the local military base.

So for the next few weeks I got to see the USMC in action. They were fixing a 15 kilometer road leading out of my town. I would sit on my porch each day and watch them roll back and forth along my road. I later found out that there were thousands of Marines spread out all over the Northern part of Nicaragua working on the infrastructure.

One day as I was driving down the road that leads out of my pueblo I noticed a big USMC semi with a bulldozer hanging off the side. Apparently the bulldozer was too high and ran right into a giant Guanacaste branch. Turns out the tree won that battle. The marine convoy was backed up about a mile. Now every time I am leaving my little Pueblo and I pass that tree I think of the United States Marine Corps.

About two weeks later I was driving to the beach and I noticed a large group of marines spread out along a major bridge that they were repairing. I knew right away something was wrong by the expressions on the marines’ faces as I drove by. That’s when I saw a humvee flipped upside down resting at the bottom of a large embankment. As I looked closer I saw several marines carrying out a body bag.

Man, how sad. I always wondered how weird it would be for that marine’s family to think he died in a country he barely knew. But to die serving a humanitarian role holds a lot of weight in my book!

I know people talk a lot of shit about the U.S. Hell I am often times the guy with the biggest mouth. Yet there are times when our country gets it right. This was one of those times. We do help out a lot in this world believe it or not.

Every time you see a country with some major problem you will most likely see the U.S. right there in the mix helping out. When you see those sacks of rice and beans being stacked in some random country where some major disaster just took place….look at the label on the bag. It will almost always say USA.

We soon hired an uncle to start building the house. I still drove around and loaded up sand and stones and I would also drive 45 minutes 2-3 a week to buy cement and different building materials for the house. I would also go to the local brick maker and buy thousands of bricks at a time.

The guy building the house would not work unless I bought him a small bottle of rum each day. One day I was feeling especially generous and made the mistake of buying him 3 bottles of rum. That was the day that a small section of the brick house fell down. I soon learned to keep it to 1 to 2 bottles of rum and the guy would work his ass off and lay bricks in a perfect line. The house soon began to rise.

I wanted to jump in and work on the house so bad but what the hell did I know about laying bricks? Soon it was time to put on the roof. This is when several fights with my father in law began. He said we needed to do this. I said that. I want x amount of doors and windows and he said I could only have y. Work suddenly stopped on the house.

One day I decided to climb up on the roof and begin trying to build the roof myself.

Yes I had packed 1000 pounds of books but the only power tool I packed was a drill. I should mention that screws are pretty much unheard of down here.

Have you ever tried to saw a 2x4 with a hand saw? O.K. now take away soft pine and imagine some tropical hardwood… and throw in the fact that a 2x4 down here is really a 3x5! Needless to say it was not going well.

After watching the pathetic gringo for 2 days trying to work on the house… I think my father in law felt sorry for me and we resolved our differences and work continued on the house with me once again in charge of buying and transporting supplies and the true builder in charge of building.

So the house was nearing completion. We only needed to lay cement for the floor and have the local carpenter make us doors and windows when Mari comes to me and tells me that she wants to go back to the States. WTF? Queue record screeching now!

Now I know things are not working out as we expected, I tell her but things are going to turn around. Now if you are any sort of mathematician you can deduce that our funds were quickly being depleted. I mean paying all the bribes the import fees the construction and material on the house.

But we still had about $4,000 left and I knew I could start making some money if I could just get the fucking house built. Apparently Mari didn’t have the same sort of confidence.

So after thinking about it for several days I finally tell her that I would be willing to go back to the states on one condition. I will never again work in an office or wear a monkey suit! She agreed and shortly after we returned by bus all the way back to San Diego!

We would eventually send money down to finish the house. Her father lives in the house year round. I stay here on my visits down to Nicaragua. I must say it is a pretty nice house. Not all fancy like some houses down here. But it serves all my needs when I travel down…. By plane!

When we arrived in San Diego, Mari immediately got a job cleaning houses. I went to Bartending School. Mari was working for a cleaning agency where she basically did all the work cleaning houses but she would have to give 40% of the profits to the agency. I didn’t like the math on that setup so I told her that I would find her customers on the side and she could keep 100% of those profits.

So I started running ads and answering the phone and getting her side jobs on the weekend. Apparently I was pretty good on my marketing because she soon became so busy that I began helping her out each weekend. Eventually things were going so well we decided she should quit her agency and we should just go at it ourselves.

We did just that and let me tell you we were scared out of our wits. Basically from day one on our own we started working our asses off. We would take any job. You could call us at any hour and we would answer the phone and we would never say no! We would work from the first light of morning until 10 that night if we had the jobs. We usually did!

I remember we were renting out a garage in Santee and it was summer. It was so hot and miserable. We would wash our rags out in the sink at the end of each day and string them up in the summer heat.

In the morning we would fold those rags up and away we went….sometimes cleaning 5-6 houses each day just Mari and me. We had some little red piece of shit car that would barely make it up and over the 52. The car went so slow that we would have to pull onto the shoulder when going up the hill to avoid the cars honking and cussing us out to move out of their way.

We worked our asses off for the next year. I remember snooty Scripps Ranch ladies standing over my head as I scrubbed their kitchen floor on my knees sweating all over the place. They would point out all the places I had missed.

At one point I remember thinking, “What in the hell has happened to me?” I was no longer waiving that business degree above my head like a torch guiding my way. No I was down on my hands and knees scrubbing the shit out of some rich person’s floor!

I would continue to do that for the next year until we became so busy that it literally became impossible to answer the phone every five minutes and scrub toilets at the same time.

That’s when we opened our first office and began hiring our first employees and it just grew from there.

I have had a great time back in my adopted country but it is time to get back to my first country and once again put the backpack away… actually my rolling luggage. It seems as though I have been down here forever! 3 weeks down here is like 3 months!

I still have the same adventurous spirit I always have had. However, I also love being with my kids and coaching sports and being a part of my community. Hopefully I can find a way to balance both aspects of my life.

It was funny that after returning from the Peace Corps I met many people that told me that they had thought about joining the Peace Corps or knew of people that were in the Peace Corps. But I never met anybody that had actually been in the Peace Corps.

After searching for several months Mari and I found a house that we wanted to purchase in a community that seemed perfect to raise our kids. We moved in and we met our neighbors who lived 2 doors down. They had kids the exact same age as ours. I later discovered that they too were in the Peace Corps. Funny how life plays out….

So now my blog must come to an end, this is my final night Chiilin’ at the Rancho. I have been trying to think of some way to end this final blog from Nicaragua. You know busting out something really profound and meaningful. I mean if you are going to do something, do it right, right? I mean why fuck around…? Nobody likes an amateur! So let me go once again back to one of my final journal entries before leaving the Peace Corps.

Peace Corps Journal 1998

Nicaragua

Thus comes the end of an adventurous voyage. I’ve crossed the waters of azure blue, and dipped my head in its vibrant hue. Sullen and shaken I thus emerged, dripping with tears my emptiness purged. Lost, confused yet gentle the hand, cast all aside, like a statue I stand. Pure of mind and fresh of soul, I venture on as tears stain my brow. Baptized in the mar of old, crested upon my chest the stories unfold. Cuerpo de paz, cuerpo de paz… sooner than said, a flash blinds the night, darkness apparent, a bird begins his flight. Carry on carry on, winged doves of peace, now my friend your journeys await. The gentle light will never cease. Directions clash, thunders crash, the sounds crash upon my ears, stumbling on, embrace thy fears. Ships cast shadows in the dull moonlight, shhh…. quiet a bird begins his flight. Once said of time, thus be true, yet carry on, embrace all that is you. The ocean pacific I have traversed… from the tip of Costa Rica to the point of Potosi, across the plains of Boaco and through the mountains of Esteli. Up Mombacho down the Boca de Infierno, through the coffee fields of Matagalpa, to the bottom of Laguna Apoyo From Selva Negra to El Suce’s trepid town, I’ve seen the breadth of Nicaragua and to it I am bound. Aahh Nicaragua to you I send my blessings of peace, please never bend or scare to the capitalist torch and those who shall take away your treasures and leave you solemn and bare. Take strength in the knowledge that your toils are not in vain, heed not what your neighbors dangle, for it shall only cost you pain. Thus comes the end of an adventurous voyage. Yet bleak the message but with power comes light, we have come to share our common plight. For it is with love that I say to you, Nicaragua your beauty is true. A treasure trove of loot I now do leave, all packed away such love I do believe. Yet all I take is within my heart, I do not steal yet now I part. With a part of your country thus buried in my soul, and a piece of my own I leave as my toll. An equal exchange of love untold, a love unsoiled, a love so bold. And now I depart whiter my wings, I thank you now for the song I sing. Thus comes the end of an adventurous voyage, the ship does part in the dull moonlight, shh, quiet a dove takes flight.

So now my passage comes to an end. My blog is done. I sip the last remnants of my rum and coke. I will soon hop on that plane back to the U.S. I will no longer chill out at the Rancho!

I will soon be home with my kids and little league baseball, the beach, Chuck e Cheese, birthday parties, soccer, cub scouts, golf, daisies, picking up and dropping off at school….and all the other crazy adventures that come with being a father in the U.S.

These may not be the craziest adventures that I have ever been through. But I will tell you one thing, these are the adventures that bring a never ending smile to my face. These are adventures that keep my sanity and keep me forever moving forward in this convoluted world I call my own. These are now the adventures that matter the most in the world to me….

I still don’t own a monkey suit and I would be hard pressed to even find a tie. Yeah, Priorities and goals change…. Sometimes we need to settle in and be content with where we are.

One day my son and daughter will come to me and tell me they want to break away. They will tell me they want to spread their wings and fly. They will tell me that the world they live is trying to constrain them. They will tell me that they are ready for new adventures...

This is the day I will break out my machete and bust the chains that have been holding them to my side. This is the day that they will begin writing their own epic journey of life. I will embrace them with all my might and then I will send them on their way. Someday after they have flown far and wide I hope they will return by my side. Hopefully, they will ask me to join them on their next adventure. Then I will dust off my backpack and away we will go!

Mari and I in Lago Atitlan, Guatemala

Chilling at the Rancho Part 4

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Mon, 02 Aug 2010 22:18:00 +0000

There is a cool breeze blowing tonight at the Rancho. I have a week left and then it is back to reality. Wherever I look I see green, a giant green sea. The bushes, the banana trees fluttering in the wind, the palm trees swaying in the breeze, the mountains in the distant all collide to form a massive green collage.

The man at the table behind me is giving a young boy a lesson in the philosophies of life. He is telling him that the world is more than the small town he lives in. He tells him that he needs to get out and explore. Good advice. No, this is great advice.

In fact this just reinforces the whole theme that I have been pursuing since my arrival down here in the land of lush, green and verdant surroundings.

I pull on my headphones and drift away… the beach boys are working their magic. Kokomo…..

After my 2 day stint at the local hospital for Dengue Fever, I felt like a new man. The doctors told me I needed to rest and take it easy. They told me my body was exhausted and depleted and needed time to heal. But I felt so good. The following weekend my fellow Nica 6 buddies all went to a small coastal town called Rivas for some sort of training.

That night we all decided to let loose and drink and celebrate. I’m not sure if somebody spiked our rum or what but that night our whole group, and I do mean our WHOLE group got stinking drunk. That’s right silly drunk right in the main Central Park of Rivas. We were running around screaming, dancing and laughing for hours. I think we kept that whole town up for most of the night.

At some point everybody started throwing up. People began passing out in the streets and on park benches. It was getting ugly. Most of us managed to stumble or crawl back to our hotel rooms. Some had to be carried.

I somehow ended up sleeping on the cement floor. The booze mixed with my body being depleted of energy was not a good mix. I ended up sleeping with head on my arm for most of the night. Now normally when you sleep you toss and turn throughout the night and your blood circulates. Now when you just had Dengue Fever the week before and the next week you suck down a bottle of rum… well you just basically pass out and don’t move.

So the next day I awake and my hand and arm is throbbing in pain. The next 2 days the pain got progressively worse and the movement in my hand became progressively limited. It got to the point that I could not move my hand at all. I was freaked out.

Eventually I could not take the pain any longer and I had to go visit my friend the bitch nurse. After checking me out she tells me I need to go see a doctor but it looks as though I have partial paralysis from cutting off the circulation to the veins leading to my hand for an extended period. She also tells me that some people call this the drunk-man disease. Oh great. I blamed everything on my Dengue Fever and she didn’t pursue it.

I would have to wear a brace on my hand and go to physical therapy for the next 3 months. After about a month I started getting feeling in the hand and was actually able to partially lift my hand. I would eventually get full movement back but even to this take it still feels tingly from my arm down to my thumb and forefinger.

Soon after this little fiasco the majority of our Peace Corps group was forced to come into the Peace Corps office and take some alcoholism quiz. They had random questions. How many drinks do you drink a week? When is the last time you drank? On and on the questions went. Well, I’m no idiot, I lied my ass off. Shit from my quiz you would have thought I only drank on my birthday!

My buddy Jason, the one I said earlier was so smart. Well this genius decides to tell the truth. Um yeah, I drank last night. I drink about 10 beers per occasion. I drink several times a week, I drink alone… etc… etc….

Jason ended up going to a series of classes on alcoholism after acing that test! Smart! Now he lives in Nappa Valley, rather ironic, huh?

Local market...

Belts?

¨

So, I found some old journals that I kept when I lived here in Nicaragua. Most of it is very convoluted and hard to make any sense out of. I will share a small portion of the madness.

Now these are true “Ramblings!” Man I was a lost soul back then!

Peace Corps Journal June 1995:

Well it’s my last night in Masaya. I’ll be heading for Managua for a week and then onto Esteli for 2 years. I’m drinking cheap port wine and listening to Bob. I’m very happy I’m leaving. The family experience was a disaster. I was unfortunate with my family. They did not treat me well – but, I blame it all on the father! He is a jerk… Fuck him! I bought them a radio/cassette player today as a going away present. They didn’t, actually “he” didn’t like it! Fuck him! I feel cheated and sad. I feel as though I should have been treated better by my adopted Nicaraguan family.

Poor me…perhaps it’s the port talking or the fact that I only have one more day in Masaya- I really couldn’t tell you….

It’s hot yet the mosquitoes have given up on me- perhaps they just terrorize you until you get deathly ill from their bite – then they give mercy.

Man, I am way down here. I am way the hell down here! It seems as though once again I am balancing precariously on the bottom rung.

Monimbo- what is that? A Hood! I live in a hood. I live in shitsville. Nicaragua is a land of culture. A culture that is pure and known. A land where the door is always open to embrace the stranger, yet a land of poverty. Yet as the poverty diminishes; the curious eyes open and the thirst for knowledge is apparent. I view Nicaragua through A Gringo’s eyes….

I sit now idle. I ponder upon the slope; the arch in the rose that slants in my front yard. It reaches toward the sun. It stretches its stem to embrace the powerful star.

Reggae pulses its message through me. Well everything is alright. As I drink from the bottle of disappearance. May I cease to be? May the raindrops weep their tears upon my veil of being? Wash me away with the tide, only to emerge fresher, stronger, newer?

Flashing, slowness, dark shadows. Life lingers in the balance. Yes, I can come down. Or rather up. Such pointless depression. Depression brought on by my lack of will power. I must come up. I am wallowing in a state of futility. I wonder what my body is thinking at this point. I’m sure it is not too enthused. Yet the bloody shadows of intoxication outweigh all the steady neon lights casting shadows upon my bloodshot eyes. It seems as though the visions are good. I could be fading into the sunset yet the drift is slow and peaceful. I seek balance. I need to cleanse my body. I need purity. Can I find a steady plane? All I see are bleak futures, rising tides, heavy waves and pure confusion. I am at a loss.

The ice cream man...

It seems as though music and booze were a steady theme throughout my Peace Corps experience!

So after I departed my plush digs down by the river I moved up into the main part of the city. Well on the outskirts. This house was a real shithole! The toilet was located about 20 yards up a little hill from my house outside in the elements. The shower was also located outside and there was no roof. It was just a small 3 foot by 3 foot cement floor surrounded by 4 walls. There was a water hose for a shower head.

When it rained the patio at my house would flood. You would have to spread 2x4’s around the lakes in order to get to the shower or toilet. The kitchen was just an outdoor area with a roof.

One day after an especially hard rain I decided to take a shower. So there a am holding my hose above my head and trying to wash my hair at the same time which is not an easy feat when I feel something on my foot. I start to freak out and at the same time I’m trying to hose the shampoo out of my eyes and see what the hell it was.

I finally manage to peak at my foot and what do I see but the biggest freaking toad I had ever seen in my life sitting on my foot. I start screaming and run out of my shower. Now Maribell happened to be over that day visiting and here I am running around naked jumping through the freaking lakes in my patio screaming like a banshee! It’s a wonder she ever married me.

So I’m yelling at Mari but I don’t know the work for toad or even from in Spanish so she has no idea what the hell is going on. I finally drag Mari over to the shower balancing oh so steadily on the 2x4’s which are the bridge to my shower and I open up the shower curtain and show Mari the toad and the next thing you know she is screaming and running around my mini-lakes.

Turns out I’m with one of the few girls in Nicaragua that are also deathly afraid of slimy animals with warts! I ended up getting a broom and prodded him to jump out of my house and to perhaps go visit my neighbor. Ah, the neighbor……

Now my next door neighbor had a dog that barked nonstop. I’m talking day and night. Down here the people do not trip on a dog barking for hours at a time! It doesn’t even faze them. No animal control here either. They had the dog tied up on a leash about a foot long and he never moved. He just sat there all day in his shit and piss barking away. Hey you would be barking too!

The house behind me had a giant parrot that screamed, squawked and talked all day. I would scream in English and also in my broken Spanish to shut the dog and bird up. So now you got the dog barking, the bird screaming and the Gringo cussing as loud as we all could.

I finally went to the neighbor and told them they had to do something about the dog. They did… they moved it from one side of the yard to the other….

I had visions of how I was going to poison the dog. I would wrap rat poisoning in a pile of hamburger and throw it over the wall… After plotting for several weeks, I finally concluded that the Peace Corps may frown on my killing dogs and birds and gave up on my plotting.

One day I’m chilling at my house with my new schoolteacher friend (yes she actually hung around) making dinner for her and a friend when I hear a knock on the door. I answer the door and there is this pathetic looking tall blonde kid looking at me hunched over.

“Are you Kevin?” he asks.
“Yes I say”…
“Hi I am Robb. I am the new volunteer living in Esteli. I just got here today but I am feeling sick.”
“Dude come on in” I say.
“No, I’m just going to go to my hotel room” and with that Robb took off.

Well… whatever I thought. I wasn’t all that cool about sharing my city with another American anyway. This was my city! I was the King of Esteli. Ok not really, but I liked to think I was.

So WAY too early the next morning, I hear somebody banging on the door again. I managed to crawl out of bed and open the door and there is that same blonde asshole… what was his name again?

“You have to help me he says” I am really sick. I mean really sick. Oh great this is all I need. My hangover wasn’t helping matters. So, I call the Peace Corps and they put me in contact with my favorite person… the bitch nurse.

No, she hadn’t been fired yet. After her last lapse in judgment when she almost killed me, she decides she better take ill Peace Corps volunteers a little more seriously.

She tells me she is going to send an ambulance from the capitol of Managua up to Esteli.

O.K. I tell her, I really like your whole new outlook and sense of urgency when somebody is deathly ill, HOWEVER, It is a 3 hour drive to get to Esteli from Managua and another 3 hour drive back. Not really the best plan. So I told her I would get him on a bus and go with him down to Managua and we could be there in 3 hours instead.

So I loaded him up in the bus and away we went. Remember I am still reeking of booze and barely able to function as it is! About ½ way to Managua, Robb tells me he has to ralph. SO I go up to the bus driver and beg him to pull over. He does and about 100 people had the unexpected pleasure of watching poor Robb bent over yakking his brains out for 5 minutes on the side of the Pan American Highway.

Robb finally manages to gain some control over his stomach and away we go again. Robb is now bent over in his chair looking like he may pass out or die at any moment. Now in Nicaragua they pack the shit out of busses. When all the seats are taken, people stand in the aisles or even ride on top of the bus.

Anyways, there is this big fat guy standing up in the aisle next to Robb eating some type of food covered with cabbage and carrots and every time he opens his big fat mouth and shovels food in, he also spills the cabbage, carrots and whatever else he was eating all over Robb’s head.

So me being the brave protector of the new Peace Corps Volunteer, I tell the guy to watch out in my somewhat improving Spanish. The guy just looks at me as if I am a nut. He shovels some more food into his mouth and a big pile of food falls on Robb’s head. Now Robb barely even knows what is going on at this point but hey…. he was under my protection now and I wasn’t going to have it.

So I get really pissed off and I start going off on the guy even throwing in a few of the nice new Spanish swear words I had learned.

Well fat boy just looks over at me, grunts and pulls up his shirt revealing a rather large pistol tucked around his big fat belly. Uhhhh…. not good.

Well… let’s just say I shut my mouth really quick. In fact I didn’t say another word the rest of that trip to Managua. I did manage to keep myself occupied by picking bits of food, cabbage and carrots out of Robb’s head.

When we finally arrived in Managua I loaded Robb into a cab and away we went to my favorite place in Nicaragua, the Bautista Hospital. We rush Robb into the emergency room and talk to the doctor. Well, it turns out Robb had Dengue Fever too!

After Robb got situated in his room, I told him to have fun with the sponge baths and away I went back to my little city. Robb and I would later become good friends.

About a month after that crazy day I packed up all my worldly possessions which conveniently fit within 1 large duffel bag. I said goodbye to my good friends… the parrot and the dog. I then hopped on my bike and rode to my new house. I am almost positive that as I pedaled away that day I heard that parrot scream in perfect English, “Shut the fuck up!”

Robb, my new roommate, and I cracked a beer and toasted each other that night. We had broken one of the Peace Corps rules by becoming roommates. We didn’t care! Hell we realized that by pooling our money we could now afford to get cable and a phone! Of course it would take 6 months for the bastards to process the work order… but we were happy as clams!

Peace Corps Journal 1995

A man upon the cusp of existence! Tell me, tell me, tell me. So this is the story I write. I am just a boy living the Peace Corps experience. A boy lost amid the foliage of Nicaragua. A young man hidden among the mountains of Esteli, Nicaragua. And still now, tomorrow will be a new day. With each passing day comes yet another. A day to release the chemicals and emerge stronger than the day before. Rise up, rise up he says. WITHOUT the ocean my task looms heavy. I endeavor to overcome the obstacles placed before me. Some days are harder than others. But in reality I only want to emerge clean and new. I want to embrace my manhood. I no longer wish to run yet only to stand erect and sigh, yes, I am a man. I no longer wish to run from but rather to.

God give me the strength to echo my name w dignity. I am as big as my heart permits, nothing more or less. Let me devour all that I know about being a man, let me cast aside all my weaknesses and let me be….Oh let me be.

For only then can I look into the mirror and find beauty. So let that be my final passage.

To live within the maze to search for the unseen door, leads the mind to seize upon confusion, while the heart continues to roar. Yet your dreams flutter in the sky, awaiting your capture, continuing to fly. Hope strings you along, patiently singing its enduring song. Structured silence, destined gloom? Oblivious to all, questions assumed. Revel in your tranquility never foresee an end, laughter unveils the pain as the mind continues to transcend. The light shines bright on the isle of dreams gods sparkle in their golden streams. Yet learn from Homer avoid all luring song, for here dreams die, making life unbearably long. Your answer will grow clear on the isle of fears. Erasing the pain suppressing all fears. Look to the sky; here is where dreams are found, our bodies may be mortal but our souls know no bounds. The answers grow clear on the isle of tears, erasing all pain suppressing all fears. I forever dream, dreams that have no measure. I must find the island to discover the hidden treasure.

Life actually settled down tremendously after I moved in with Robb. He got a girlfriend, I had my girlfriend. We eventually got our cable T.V. hooked up. Life was moving along nicely.

I guess the next major obstacle I had was with my counterpart and my job. Most Peace Corps volunteers are hooked up with a Nicaraguan counterpart that is supposedly a work partner and I had hoped a person that would help me fit in with the culture. I ended up with some alcoholic asshole on a power trip named Bismark.

Yeah… that’s right, just like the ship! Bismark and I got off on the wrong foot and we never did forge any type of relationship. He was the manager of the Savings and Loans Cooperative I worked at and he thought he was the shit!

At first he viewed me as a token American that would make his Savings and Loans cooperative look good to the associates. He later viewed me as a threat when I pointed out why the cooperative was losing a shitload of money every month and what he needed to do to get it straightened out.

You see the cooperatives receive funding from different countries that are trying to help developing countries. That money is then “supposedly” lent to small companies to grow and thrive.

Peace Corps Journal 1995

Well the manager and the accountant of the Savings and Loan Cooperative I work at just had a major blowout in front of me. They apparently lost some applications for government loans. They keep asking me if I have them. As if I really want or need them. It’s really stupid and petty, but it seems as though the manager is an asshole and on some sort of power trip. Give a man a little power and he wields it like the staff of Merlin. Latin America is definitely a backwards caveman world, small men with big dreams of grandeur. Perhaps they realize that it is all rather pointless and they revert back to primordial days.

I know little, yet I observe much. I seem to be causing a riff in this pathetic little cooperative I work in. I tried to be a team player and they pushed me away. They don’t want me to help them. I can’t turn to my Peace Corps director because they will look at this as a problem I created. Another of the many ways the Peace Corps refuses to back us up. I really just want to go and drink 6 beers, right now! That’s all I want to do. Sad! But no, I’ll just go home, eat and then finish my book. Sad!

As I mentioned, the money the Cooperative receives from other countries is supposed to go to small companies as loans so that they can grow their businesses. When the small businesses repay their loans that money is then available to more small companies eventually creating a prosperous micro-economic benefit for the whole town. You know; the whole trickle down methodology.

Well, what I soon learned was that the money was being channeled to, not only friends of the directors, but the directors themselves. They would make themselves loans with little or no intentions of ever paying the money back. Even my good buddy Bismark had some fat loans! The default rate was something astronomical like 40%. However, when they ran out of money they would just get another large donation from some organization or country that really didn’t quite understand the system.

After several attempts to modernize the cooperative by computerizing their system it became abundantly clear that these guys did not want my help. Soon I found myself living a charade. I would show up to work at the office each day and sit around and do nothing. That’s right, I would just sit around and read a book each day.

After a few weeks of this, I realized that I no longer wanted to participate in this bullshit charade and I told my Peace Corps director that I was done with that place. I told him I was not going to work there anymore and that if he wanted to boot me out of the Peace Corps than that was up to him but that I would no longer pretend to work at some stupid job. I had done that for many years in the states and did not come all this way to live a lie!

Peace Corps Journal 1996

Well I really don’t have a person to whom I’m writing so I will just write. Today I will soon learn my fate for the next year and 1/2. Either I will leave the Peace Corps or I will be working independently. Either way, something has to change. I cannot go on like this anymore. I’m always stressed out! I’ve worked too hard in my life to feel constricted like this. I need to unleash and become more free to expand and grow. Anyways, life is life and I expect that all I can do is to be truthful and honest, well for the most part! What do people expect? To be silent and endure something, a situation which is intolerable? I think not! And so, I push the line. I’m trying to help and make a difference. Yet the people here are unwilling to bend or change. Yet they are willing to take and unleash their stupidity and unkindness. And so we have arrived at my day of judgment for the next 1 ½ years. And so I search for an internal light to spark my way and guide the lost boy. Yet my vision is clear, my body is strong and my spirit is rejuvenated. So bring it on baby!

I later talked to my Peace Corps Program Director. He happened to be one of the few Peace Corps Directors that was an actual Nicaraguan. Not only that. But he was from the laid back Caribbean side of Nicaragua. He told me, “Kevin… just do whatever you want.”

I told him I would teach English and work with small businesses. He just said, “Whatever.”

From that point forward I was basically on my own in Nicaragua for the next year and half. No set job, no obligations, just pure freedom. Oh yeah baby!

Before I left the Cooperative I did manage to hook them up with another organization that was funded by the AID, American International Development… basically the money arm of the U.S. in developing countries. They began taking over control of the cooperative little by little. Many years later I was driving down the main drag of Esteli and saw the cooperative on the same street as all the major banks in the city.

I went into the cooperative which now looked just like a bank and asked about Bismark. Well Bismark was out! Apparently he had sunk just like the ship! AHHHH Karma once again rears its head!

Hell, almost instantaneously after my Peace Corps program director told me I was on my own I started travelling. I first started travelling locally to visit my fellow Nica 6 Peace Corps Volunteers spread out all over Nicaragua.

Down here each town has a party celebrating a Patron Saint. Each town has a different patron saint… so you do the math. All I knew was that there was a LOT of parties to attend. Now who am I to turn town a party?

By this point most of my fellow Peace Corps volunteers in Nica 6 had basically abandoned their jobs as well! So, my buddies and I began travelling from town to town to the local party. Now these were some major big parties by the way. The whole town comes out and gets down.

The parties go something like this: Break out multiple bottles of Rum and Guaro (moonshine). Next grease up a pig and let him go…. Let’s see who can get him! Grease down a chicken and nail him to somebody’s front door. O.K., Now, everybody get on a horse and ride around the block and see who can be the first one to rip him off the door.

Next how bout we grease up a pole and see who can get to the top…. Nice. Lots of grease involved in these parties.

Alright how about we cut off a couple bulls’ penis… let them dry in the sun for several days and then use them in epic drunken sword battle reenactments from the 1800’s. But let’s really wail on each other until we start bleeding. Hey now this is a party! You thought toga parties were fun?

The finale of these weekend long parties usually entailed a makeshift bullring, a bunch of extremely drunk Nicaraguans, several bulls and some extreme drunken chaos.
Now in our case you could add to that drunken mayhem, several drunken Americans running around that same bullring. Yes, bulls running directly at us with their pointy sharp horns. We would leap up on the wooden rails at the last second as the bulls charged close by us. Good times for sure!

Juice?

Soon I began going on trips throughout Central America. At one point I even traveled 6 hours in several busses and crossed the border into Honduras just to get a burger from McDonalds!

Peace Corps Journal 1996 some beach in Guatemala

Life!

So, here I am. Yeah! The surf is looking plush – no board! The call for today- fish! The lefts are peeling. And so here I sit, a man, about to embark on a bottle of Guatemala’s finest! And so I drink, oblivious to the reality which lies beyond. My tent is pitched, my mind is cloudy. Zeppelin rings through the mind! And so it goes; or so I go, down into the depths of the bottle. A soiree into no-man’s land.

How nice, he says. Love is in the air. How putrid and fetish those salt water breezes. Air conditioning, oh that treasured gift. Soon my body will be pure; clean and hard. Janis Joplin unleashes her pain through my ears. Oh baby I hear you. I do, I do. The weight lies heavy upon us all. The syrup gently rolls down my throat. Oh so sweet. Bye bye, baby bye bye.

Money? I have little.
Wisdom? Not much.
Desire? Oh plenty.
And thus, I write on with a mad desire to pursue knowledge.

Freedom of mind, of pen, freedom of expression unto the glorious paper. Oh how so, oh how truly, truly so. The purity, the beauty, the flow, oh how sweet the ink. Oh, I flow, kids, children lurk heavy on my mind! To give unconditionally. Ahh, such sweet, sweet words. Love is divine.

That of which we seek. Unspoken words, hidden thoughts. Yet the sweet slumber lays further ahead of my existence. For now, I am content upon this paper, I etch my name, my being, my presence. I am heard and with such a sweet ring, the bell of eternal longing.

Shhhh…. Silence! Can’t you hear???? Ah, and the bell tolls. The direction of her bliss knows no boundaries. And thus, she sounds, the inevitability of it all is such sweet song. The ice of ages melts and becomes only what she was. The water that traces through her body is upon us, coursing as she may, searching to release her purity.

One thing you have to love about Nicaragua is that it can rain basically at any time and at any moment. Hang your clothes out to dry on a sunny day… and bam, downpour. I’m chillin’ at the Rancho just switching over to Rum and Coke and the skies just opened up. I guess I should have known by the subtle breezes I felt earlier. These are usually the tell tale signs! Hey, cut me some slack I have only been down here for two weeks and I am a little out of touch. Oh man… the thunder just pounded down around me! It is raining so hard that the rain is coming through my little rancho roof and dropping on my head!

O.K. No worries… Just need to move over to the next seat where the rain hasn’t managed to find a hole to penetrate the Spanish tile roof. And we are talking real Spanish tiles! Made out of dirt and cow shit and fired in a brick oven! Really.

It is coming down pretty hard. Fortunately I have managed to save my computer, my rum and the last ashes of my mom. O.K. don’t say morbid! That is wrong. She would be laughing her ass off right now and actually truth be told she is actually sealed in an air tight ziplock baggie at the moment. So she is probably the driest one out of us all!

O.K so let’s just go down this road now. As I mentioned previously my mom passed away recently. I brought part of her ashes down to Nicaragua on my trip and I have been spreading her around the different locations that I have journeyed to on my adventures.

Now I had planned to sprinkle some of her ashes in the cemetery that is located very close to my local Rancho Bar. That is why I have her along with me tonight. I’m not that fucked up… well maybe.

Anyways I do have to admit that I miss her! I think the hard parts are whenever something really good or really bad happens to me. I get that urge to pick up the phone and share my feelings with her. I then realize that I can’t. My mom was my sounding board. I would spit out anything I was feeling and I would get a reaction in return. From that reaction I would move forward. At times what I heard in return would piss me off and I would fume for days. Then I would realize that what my mom had said had validity.

I think at some point I already knew what my mom’s reaction would be to any situation I brought to her. I just needed validation. “This is right or this is wrong.”

No matter how much I pleaded and defended my case she would set me straight. I couldn’t bullshit her or win her over in an argument that didn’t have a pure cause. She would always call me out and set me straight.

No matter how cute, cunning, charismatic or persuasive I thought I was, she saw right through me. I wasn’t any of those things to her. I was just her son; plain and simple.

Eventually all I needed was her silence on a subject to confirm to me that I was wrong! No matter how much I continued to argue my point with her, I would only be met with her silence. I would eventually relent and tell her, O.K. Yes you’re right and that is wrong.

When I first brought Mari to the U.S. as my new bride I was nervous how my mom would react. My mom gave Mari a huge hug right off the bat. They had some weird conversation that I’m sure neither of them understood. Then my mom took my new wife shopping. She would not even let me go. What? You guys can’t even understand each other!

They didn’t go anywhere fancy. That wasn’t the point. They bought sandals and clothes and I don’t know what else. They went out for lunch. Mainly they bonded.

That was the whole point. Mari and my mom would become very close over the years. I later named my daughter after my mom, “Kristi”.

So now if I have the desire to carry her around in a ziplock baggie and spread her ashes haphazardly around Nicaragua…. So be it!!!!

Peace Corps Journal 1996

As I stretched my eyes to find some semblance of order in the ungrateful morning, I noticed the cobwebs draping throughout the corners of the room. I noticed a spider gradually ascending up the silly string he called his home. I began to wonder where the spider slept in this twisted puzzle of threads. I rolled over, closed my eye and the spider’s life was no longer relevant.

I woke again and was rather disturbed that this spider had disrupted 10 minutes of my sleep. My thoughts began to pursue the idea of grabbing a broom from the kitchen and ripping the webs of the spider from the walls.

As I plotted my revenge, another notion came to me. I pursued this by once again closing my eyes and beginning my journey into unconsciousness.

As I lay there motionless my mind began to flutter endlessly through a storm of love and hope. I found myself looking through a telescope. The telescope faced the sky yet the mystery of the heavens was far from apparent. I pondered the question of God. I pondered the question of death. Mostly, I pondered the question of life.

I squinted my eyes to see farther, yet I could still not see any answers. I screamed out, “What do you see?” the answers echoed back so silently I realized that in actuality the answer lied within the eye of the individual.

Each individual possessed his own telescope for which the heavens were visible. Perhaps their telescopes were bigger or smaller or perhaps their minds were bigger or smaller. I noticed a beautiful princess crying beside me.

“Why do you cry beautiful prince?” I asked.
“I cannot see anything through my telescope.” she said.
I glanced into her eyes.
“Well my princess, I see a merry go round, a circus, a beach, the bright sun and a shiny ring. “
She looked through the telescope once more and spoke.
“Sir, I still cannot see anything.”
I looked deeply into her eyes for the last time, removed the lens cap from the telescope and walked away, weeping.

Soon I will return to the states and once again continue my voyage. For now I listen to Led Zeppelin and pound against my keyboard. Another passage in my Peace Corps journal now:

Peace Corps Journal 1997

Questioning the future

Structured silence, destined doom. Oblivious to all, the question assumed. I revel in tranquility though I foresee the end. Laughter unveils the pain, yet the stars continue to transcend. Dreams flutter in the sky, awaiting their capture continuing to fly. Hope strings me along, patiently singing its enduring song. I beg my brother to take my hands, to calm the seas, and shine his light on the land. May the light shine bright on this island of dreams, where my goals are clear as they sparkle in golden streams. I clench my fist disregarding all stakes I look to the skies and my dream awakes.

Pictures and maps foretell the future. The future, the mystery that surrounds the mind. As the mind travels, the heart unleashes its power. The power travels to the soul enriching the nutrients of life and youth. We inhale the scent and thrust forward on a surging wave of hope. We strive for more never yielding to the dictates of others. We embrace those who share our dreams. Together we soar; we touch the clouds and continue our quest as one. In this, the eternal loop of life. In this, the adventures of innocence.

A habit a life a world to break, wrong paths, wrong people an enormous mistake. Looking at life directly in his eye, beneath the surface and asking him why. This is the reason we live and grow, to discover ourselves and to just let go. And so we travel down the winding path, trying to avoid the devil’s wrath.

Searching, searching to unhinge our soul, to find the emptiness and fill the hole.
Step by step we continue to walk, on unstable grounds while learning to talk. We open locked doors and step inside, only to learn that the world has lied. They take away our precious tools: our minds, our hearts they think we’re fools. Then they throw us in schools. These are the people that I laugh in their face, then I watch them walk on in a backwards endless pace. Then they try to teach us what we already knew, then they tell us we’re normal and tell us what to do. A habit, a life, a world to break wrong paths.

Slowly the day twists endlessly around. The start approaches the end. The end approaches the start. The stillness explodes within my mind. The inevitability of the pointless circle is evident. Transcripts of yesterday lie below. Above, everywhere,. The bird soars above, the clouds hide her beauty. Yet I feel the presence within. I touch the beauty with my thoughts. Yet the bird soars on. In search of what? Running from whom? On goes the walk. The clatter of the message pounds and echoes off the walls. And still the inevitability feeds the white petals of the yellow day. The mind wanders, the stillness engulfs. And what of the bluebird that sung the beauty of the wind. Where doth thou bluebird fly? So on goes the entrenchments of fluids to atone for the lack of solids. The solidarity of a feather lacks the substance of a song. Yet the reverse cries terror to all. The point? Objective. The thought? Subjective. The meaning? Reactive? On and on, circles prevail. The circle has no meaning. Much like the thought. Yet still the words continue. Confused to all, but sound within. I inhale the meaning, again and again! One more time.

I spy a temperate sky. I feel the sand seep through my toes. Barren existence engulfs my mind. I feel the crush of a wave and the mist from its power soothes my face. I see a new way of life and customs. A solidarity and freedom that lets me embrace mother earth. I see my roots growing intertwined beneath my feet, growing ever outward and then back. I see your face growing bright, the sun beating its power into your heart. I see your body becoming hard, becoming united with your mind. I see myself forming jewelry from the shells and twine that the earth has created. I see a peace, a harmony, a bonding of all earthen creatures. I spy an ancient civilization with great rulers and kingdoms. The ruins enable me to search higher and find truth. I see mystery and attainable answers in pyramids and ancient medicine. I feel respect for the ancient man, the shaman and all the knowledge and wisdom he allows me to receive. I feel my soul awakening glowing once again, giving me life as it did when I was born. These images thrust me forward on a wave of hope. I spy distant lands. I spy myself. I wish you would come with me!

So now it seems that my journey down memory lane must come to a close. Perhaps I have one final blog in me before my return to reality. However tonight’s blog comes to the end with the words of Zeppelin…..

Yes there are two paths you can go back but in the long run…. there’s still time to change the road you are on.

So I suppose the real question is, “Where does YOUR stairway lie?”

Chillin´ at the Rancho Part 3

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Sat, 31 Jul 2010 17:45:00 +0000

Road to the Rancho Bar...

So I just have to tell this story while it is fresh in my mind. The reason I thought about this was that I was going through some old photos I had from the Peace Corps that I had left in my dresser in Nicaragua that I hadn’t seen for over 10 years.

Anyways one of my fellow Peace Corps buddies told me about how after training he was dropped off with his Nicaraguan family. Now, living in a third world country can be hard on your stomach until you build up tolerances. Let’s just say diarrhea is a recurring theme in a volunteer’s life. Some of the first conversations you have when meeting up w a fellow volunteer that you haven’t seen in awhile will be to inquire about their bowel movements. Gross? Perhaps… but remember we have a lot of free time on our hands too.

Anyways when “said” Peace Corps volunteer was being dropped off to meet his Nicaraguan family which he would live with for the next 3 months he was experiencing a rather explosive version of this common calamity. He was in such dire straits that he basically skipped the whole conversation portion of the introduction and immediately began making the same type of hand gestures I had made when meeting my host family. Gestures that would let somebody know that he needed a bathroom and fast.

Finally after several minutes of hand gestures the family understood his needs and pointed him in the direction of the bathroom. So the volunteer runs past the family, continues running into the room with the bathroom, begins pulling down his pants as he is running and trips due to the fact that his pants are now twisted around his ankles, he then proceeds to fall and hit his head on the toilet, knocking himself completely unconscious. He then proceeds to shit all over himself!
Oh hello Nicaraguan family… Nice to meet you!

Can you imagine the family walking in and seeing this image? A pathetic white boy Gringo passed out next to the toilet, blood puring out of a gash on his head, pants and underwear pulled down to his ankles and well… you get the picture.

Fortunately, Nicaraguans have seen way worse… trust me! They cleaned him up and got him back in shape. Notice, I was careful not to mention any names because that is such an embarrassing story!

Yeah… poor KENNY!!!!!!!! I would later sit at the bottom of a waterfall, after jumping off a high cliff, for close to an hour trying to coax Kenny to jump because it was even more dangerous to climb back down. To his credit…. He made the jump! I have the pictures to prove it.

During my first 3 months of living with my Peace Corps family my outlook began to change. I began hiking with a passion. I would hike up volcanoes, hike to the bottom of craters, hike all around my town… basically I was exploring and I wanted to absorb everything that Nicaragua had to offer. I was seeing clearly for the first time in many years.

My Nica dad turned out to be an asshole. Even though the Peace Corps gave the family a sizeable sum of money to host me he decided to squirrel all the money away. I got a big heaping of rice and beans for lunch and dinner and bread and coffee for breakfast. One night they put this tiny little fish that looked like bait on my plate. I was so ravenous for meat that I ate that little fish with a passion. I licked the little fish bones and scraped every last little morsel off with my teeth.

When the Peace Corps started giving us our stipend each week I would go to local restaurants and eat every night. I remember the Peace Corps had sent me information on Nicaragua prior to leaving. The diet they stated consisted of bean, rice vegetables, beef, pork and chicken. I pictured Mexican food and was ecstatic. I would later find out that the beans were usually undercooked without any spices or ingredients, the rice was usually crispy and barely edible and the meat was as tough as leather. Anything of any value in the country was quickly exported out!

Random little beer shack on some random road...

My Nica dad would take off each weekend to go stay with his girlfriend. The way I found this out was that I asked his wife where he goes each weekend. She told me he goes to stay with his girlfriend. What? I asked her if this bothered her. She said no, why should it? She is my best friend. What???? I remember trying to explain how in our country that most women would not like that. I don’t think it registered!

Lizard on roof...

One night the two of them were screaming and arguing I couldn’t understand about what. Then I heard him pop her and she started screaming and crying. I couldn’t sit back. I got out of bed and came out of my room. He was going off and he was out of control. I grabbed him and wrestled him against the wall. He got really pissed and started going for his wife and I got in the middle of them waiting for a heavy hand to come down on me. He was a pretty big guy. Luckily he thought twice about it and left the house. My Nica mom had a pretty nice black eye… and I was just thinking… what the fuck is this?

I then remembered one night before this whole fiasco he had showed me this bottle of booze that he had that that he was so proud of owning. I found that bottle that night and I sucked it down! I don’t even remember what type of booze it was…. It didn’t really matter at that point! The dickhead didn’t show his face for a few weeks after that! I always wondered if she finally got fed up with his carousing around. Who knows. Like I said my Spanish was pretty bad back then! Dickhead never did ask about his prized bottle of booze!

I didn’t bother telling the Peace Corps. Pretty much my whole life I have handled my own problems. I didn’t really see a reason to go crying, “Oh why me” to the Peace Corps. The Peace Corps staff and I were already having our own issues by this time so I didn’t want to give them any additional ammunition to kick me out.

I remember when we finished our training we were given papers to fill out on our family experience and whether we would recommend them to another Peace Corps volunteer. Let’s just say I put the record straight. Later, I remember my Peace Corps director pulling me to the side and apologizing and asking me why I never said anything…..

Uh, maybe that would have a little something to do with the time in training when I actually implored the Peace Corps for help…. and was basically told to piss off. Well I should be fair and say that it was not the entire Peace Corps that failed me but rather the Peace Corps nurse. And if I could remember the bitch’s name I would put it down right here! Içm sure my fellow Peace Corps buddies remember her well too.

Giant butterfly that cruised into my internet cafe...

My Nicaraguan family did have the coolest son ever, Luis. Luis was about 12 years old at the time. I began taking little Luis hiking with me all over the place. One day we decided to hike Volcano Masaya. This was one of the few volcanoes that actually has a road that allows you to drive up close to the summit, that is if you are fortunate enough to own a car!

It was a very hot day and my Nicaraguan brother (dickhead’s son) and I were about 1/2 way up when I see another guy hiking and out of the blue he says, “Hey are you American?” Woah….hey wait. Hold the phone! Now I had been in the country for about 2 months at this point and outside of my fellow Peace Corps volunteers, I had not seen one American or even one person that spoke English. “Yes, Yes, Yes, I am American.”

If I had a red white and blue flag I would have started waving it at that point! He was with a Nicaraguan friend and he said something in Spanish and the guy turned around and started walking down the volcano. I didn’t ask why. We started chitchatting and I was sucking down water and sweating profusely. Climbing volcanoes can be tough work let me tell you! So about 10 minutes go by and there is the Nicaraguan guy that left us driving a car up the road… The American guy looks at me and says forget this.... I’m driving up. Come on let’s go.

So remember I am in my new zone. I want to explore. I tell him no. I will hike. So he takes off. I bet my Nica brother was a thinking I was a complete nut! Well he probablAfter about another 45 minutes we reached the top. I was about to pass out when I reached the summit and there was a small shack with a pile of coconuts.

I walked up to the little shack and there was the American guy again. He said something in Spanish and the lady started grabbing coconuts and whacking them with a machete and handing them to us.

I soon realized that you are supposed to suck the water from the coconut. I was so thirsty! I sucked down one and then another and then another and then another….

The Masaya Volcano is an actual live volcano. You can stand on the edge and look down into the crater. Way down at the bottom you can see a small fire glowing. Apparently hundreds of years ago they sacrificed virgins at this very point and threw them in. Fortunately I had lost my virginity before reaching the summit and was therefore spared.

The American guy tells me about some cool caves and asks if I want to go. Oh yeah… that is definitely on my adventure list. I remember him talking to his Nicaraguan friend in Spanish and being so jealous that I did not speak the language. He spoke so fast and clear in Spanish. Wow that’s what I wanted!

So we go over to this giant pile of rocks and climb down. He hands me a flashlight and tells me I will need this. After climbing down the rocks a large cavern entrance was there before me. We started to go in. There was a small stream and we walked farther and farther into the cave. At one point the cave turned and the light started to dim… it began getting darker and darker. We turned another corner and we were in pitch black. Turn on your flashlight he tells me.

So we end up going farther into the cave. At one point it opened up into a huge cavern. He told me to shine the light up. I did and there I saw thousands of bats hanging on the wall. The next thing I know the bats start to move around and all of a sudden there are thousands of bats flying all around me. He tells me to turn off my flashlight and I do. All I feel are the bats… thousands of them flying near my face. I feel the wind and the flapping of their wings all around me . Pitch Black.

We continued to walk farther into the cave which began to smell like sulfur from the volcano. The next thing you know our flashlights dies. We had to go back through the cave in pitch black climbing over piles of rock rubble and walking though streams all the while not being able to see your hand in front of your face. Very frightening! Turns out the guy was an executive working for Pepsi. I would later take my fellow Peace Corps buddies into the cave and give them a little scare too.

He ended up giving me a ride back to my house but along the way we stopped at a local bar. He turned me onto Conchas Negras. Delicious black clams popular down here. I remember we were drinking beers and at one point he looks around and says its going to rain. "What I said... It is sunny you are crazy." Oh yeah it’s going to rain and hard within a half an hour. S

ure enough ½ hour later rain came down hard like I had never seen. I saw cars driving through mini lakes with water ½ way up their door. Holy shit! What is going on? Don’t worry he says it will be sunny in ½ an hour. Once again I say no way! Fuck it’s raining like Noah the Ark type rain!

Yet sure enough ½ hour later it is sunny as can be. ½ after that the streets were completely dry. The mini lakes were gone. The roads weren’t even damp! It was like freaking magic. You could actually see the water mist rising off the ground. Wow!

No matter how many times I come to Nicaragua I see something I have never seen before in my life! Every time I come to Nicaragua I learn something new that I never knew before. Every time I come to Nicaragua I feel something that I have never felt before.

One day My Nica dad (the dickhead) managed to somehow squirrel his way back into the house. I remember one night he began to moan and moan. I remember thinking that he was such a pussy. His moaning was so loud I couldn’t sleep. What a baby I thought. I knew he was sick but come on dude get it together. Man up!

A week later I had Dengue Fever (think Malaria) and holy shit did I start moaning! I moaned louder than I had ever moaned in my life. I put dickhead to shame. My whole Monimbo ghetto would hear me! My nica mom began rubbing saves on my forehead and she massaged my head. Dengue Fever gives you the worst headache of your life along with sweats and body aches. You feel as though your head is in a vice! I felt like I was dying.

Finally my Nica mom gave me a pill… not sure what it was but it allowed me to sleep for a few hours. My Nica family was so worried about me that they called the Peace Corps and told them I needed a doctor. I think maybe even they couldnçt handle my moaning. I was told to go to the capitol of Managua and meet with the Peace Corps nurse.

The following day I ended up somehow making it to the capitol of Managua to meet with the Peace Corps nurse. After waiting several hours in agony she finally arrived 2 hours late. After looking me over… she said I was fine and that I just needed to drink liquids and to go back to my Peace Corps family. I told her I felt like I was dying and I could not keep down water or food. She just told me the same thing. Are you fucking serious I thought. I think at one point she may have even said I was exaggerating. Now this is the same wacko lady that told us how she let her kid play with random snakes he picked up on the back of a hill they live on. Remember Nicaragua has a type of Cobra that kills you instantly. This is an American lady too by the way... Freakin nut...

After several hours wandering aimlessly around Managua searching for my hotel room, I finally located it and proceeded to open the door, lock the door and crawl into bed. I had dry heaves all day. I would literally put one drop of water on my tongue and start heaving. I could not move from my bed. Soon my fellow Peace Corps volunteers began showing up and knocking on my door trying to get me to open it… I couldn’t move.

They started leaving juice and water outside my hotel room door. At some point the owner of the small hotel I was at called the Peace Corps and said that they needed to do something. Apparentlt dead Gringo´s don´t make for good business in the tourist hotel industry. Did I mention the moaning?

My Peace Corps program director ¨Diego¨finally came to my door and after several times asking me to open the door he finally began screaming for me to open the door. Something finally clicked and I fell out of bed and crawled to the door and unlocked it.

He must have realized how pathetic I looked because between him and my other Peace Corpse volunteers they managed to pick me up and throw me in the back of the Peace Corps SUV and they rushed me to the hospital emergency room. I remember dry heaving with the side door open with absolutely nothing coming out the whole ride to the hospital.

When I finally got to the hospital the doctor told my Peace Corps Director that I was in grave condition and that I was extremely dehydrated.

They hooked up an I.V. I remember moaning to the doctor and giving him sign language that my head was exploding. He said something to the nurse and they pumped something into my I.V. I felt a warm sensation start at my toes and work its way up my body but it stopped at my chest. My head continued to throb.

The doctor walked by again and I once again grabbed him by his jacket and tried to express the pain I was feeling. "Cabeza Cabeza…. Ayuda."

He said something to the nurse and once again she injected my I.V. and that warm sensation started hitting my toes and this time it worked its way to my head. Yes… Pain relief.

They would eventually wheel me into an air-conditioned room with cable. I remember taking 15-16 IV’s before I even had to pee. Then when I did have to pee… I felt like I was going to explode but I couldn’t go. They had to give me a catheter… more fun! I peed so much at that point that I overflowed the bucket the nurse had!

I spent the rest of that day in my first air conditioned room in several months with my first cable T.V. in sever4al months. I felt like I was in heaven. The nurses gave me sponge baths to cool my body temperature down. I really didn’t want to ever leave! Eventually they sent me on my way…

To this day I credit Diego with saving my life.

Internet Cafe in Pueblo Nuevo...

The Peace Corps nurse would eventually get fired for ineptitude! Such sweek kharma!

After my 3 months of training, Spanish classes and cultural lessons it was time to learn the locations of where we would be stationed for the next 2 years. I had long given up hope of living on the beach. Most business volunteers lived in bigger cities where they could have a bigger impact. One day they finally told me I would be living in Esteli. They told me that it was a big city in the mountains, cool climate and pretty girls. O.K. well… Not bad!

The cool climate turned out to be between 80-85 year round which was actually a godsend from what I was experiencing. I think the lower humidity was also a major factor! They also warned me that I would be the first volunteer to ever live in the city due to all the political problems and the Sandinista population. Oh great! If it is not one thing it is another!

One day my Peace Corps director loads me up in his truck and takes me 3 hours north into the mountains. We end up going to a local park and he tells me, “Kevin, don’t ever talk politics, stay out of the bars, don’t get too drunk and never walk in the surrounding mountains because they may still have land mines in them from the Sandinista/Contra period.”

I would soon end up breaking all those rules. He drove away and there I was with all my bags… literally everything I owned in the world, in the middle of a big city and I was on my own! WTF? Thanks Peace Corps.

I grabbed my bags and began walking aimlessly around this huge city asking people Se alquila, Se alquila, Do you rent, Do you rent? I was just pathetic. At one point I was so tired of lugging my bags around I just sat down and contemplated crying! I finally went to the next store I saw and asked the lady if I could leave my bags with her. She said yes and also told me that her son was renting a small home a block away. Divine intervention?

He was not around to show it to me but I could look at the outside. I said I would take it on the spot! I went back to Managua and then returned a couple weeks later to my new home and all my possessions were safely stored away at the store.

The house I lived in was actually a larger house divided down the middle by a thin 1/8 inch ply wood. There was a lady with a kid who lived on the other side and I could hear her plain as day. Just like she could hear me just like I was right there!

I lived in a great spot. There was a butcher across the street from me. Caddy corner was a vegetable stand. And across the other street was a lady who sold tortillas. I could get everything I needed by walking 25 feet in any direction. About a ½ block down the road there was a bridge and a river flowing underneath.

Laundry day....

I had a bathroom with an actual toilet a backyard with various fruit trees. It was just basically a living room a bedroom and a bathroom… what else did I need? I found a lady or rather she found me that would wash all my clothes by hand for about $2 plus $.50 for soap. Life was good. Other volunteers began to visit me. I began my job working with a small Savings and Loan Cooperative.

In the late afternoon I began sitting on my porch and watching people walk up and down my street. I would say hi to everybody and basically I was like a circus sideshow. I was the only white boy around and I stuck out like a sore thumb. One day a girl walked by and I said hi and somehow I must have said something interesting enough for her to stop for a second and talk to me.

It turns out that she was a teacher and taught down the road. I would watch her pass each day and eventually I would look forward to her passing each day if for only to have her say hi to me. She would eventually stop for a minute then two…

Neighborhood having fun...

We would talk about her school and she would ask me about the Peace Corps. We worked out a day where both myself and Craig would go up to her school and talk about the Peace Corps. I remember that we decided to bring some candy to endear us to the kids.

So we go the her Elementary school and put on a small presentation talking about the Peace Corps and when we finish up we all go outside and we tell them we are going to pass out candy. This is when a virtual mob scene takes place. Craig and I are surrounded by kids practically jumping on us. We soon began chucking the candy as far away as possible to get the kids off of us and the teacher grabbed us and pulled us out of the mayhem!

I would end up marrying the teacher. Her name is Mari.

Check out this guy taking his bike up some hill to his home...

One night I was kicking back at my house and it started to rain pretty hard. Then harder, then harder! I’m drinking beers and chillin’. Next thing you know water starts rolling in under my door. Uhhh… That’s not good. Then it starts to get higher and higher. I’m freaking out because my refrigerator is plugged in. I had just recently rented the refrigerator and that was a major coup for a Peace Corps volunteer. I think in retrospect I may have been more worried about the actual contents of my fridge... the BEER!

The next thing you know the water is up to my calf. In my house! Now I´m getting worried...

Now I have 2 doors to my house and they each have metal bar type doors in addition to the regular wooden door. I had made a point to lock these doors with a key lock each night. So now I start searching all around for the keys.

There I am running around my house looking for my keys when a couple people from the redcross poke their heads into my gated door. You need to get out of herenow they say. Yeah no shit dude. The water is rising and I am stuck inside... well basically a jail. Remember mosat houses down here are made out of cement block or bricks!

The water is now inching towards my knee. The redcross is screaming and I am running practically swimming around my house looking for the fucking keys to get OUT! You just can´t make this shit up!

I finally find the key and relief overtakes m. I run to my gated hell door and start to fumble around trying to get the freaking lock open when what do you know... I drop the key in the fucking water raging through my house.

I mean really you just can’t make this shit up! Now I am down on my knees frantically searching around for the key. I sobered up quick!

I finally find the key and I managed to open the lock and then open up my metal door and I started walking around the side of my house holding on to the bars and anything I can get my hands on as the river is raging down the street. Next thing you know I see a red cross truck up the road and they are tying a rope to the side of my house and stringing it up the hill. They grab me and I hold onto the rope and we all cross the river that is raging around and through my house and I make it to high ground. There I stayed for about an hour as the water subsided.

Then I went back to the house and my neighbor helped me sweep out all the mud on the floor inside my house and then I went to bed.

About 2 months later the exact same type of flood happened. This time I just stayed inside my house. I had long before stopped locking the metal bar door. The second time the flood came I just put everything up high and then I decided to just kick back and drink beers and watch the river rise inside my house and then subside. No panic. Been there done that.

About a month later I moved from that house to higher ground in the middle of the city. I had had enough!

One night a fellow Peace Corps volunteer decided to have a small party in her little town called Ciudad Dario. We all managed to get there by bus. Now back then we had to talk to the other volunteers by teletype. You would go to the local mail station and they would take down your message and then teletype it to the receiving town. At that point somebody would print out the message and deliver it to the person by hand. Now that’s old school! So a party was a major event for us.

Now there we are all drinking and partying and the next thing you know Jason starts talking some major shit. He did a Dr. Jeckyl and Mr. Hyde. He just started going off… totally belligerent. He then decided to go outside and begin yelling and singing in the streets of Ciudad Dario!

Jason would end up sleeping in the street that night. The curb would be his pillow. Straight out drunk…. Nica style!

Jason is one of the smartest people I know and he was one of my best friends in Nicaragua. I can see his head expanding now as he reads this...We would end up travelling together throughout most of Central America.

Dog hiding out

We would dive together in the Caribbean waters of Honduras, we would travel to the coasts of El Salvador and Guatemala we would travel the length and width of Nicaragua. Most of these adventures also included Mitch.

Jason was also the best man at my wedding when I ended up marrying Mari upon completion of my Peace Corps service. Mari and I would travel back to the U.S. by land. Well… almost. That’s another story!

Jason would go on to obtain his Masters Degree in Business from Georgetown giving hope to even the most pathetic of humanity… proving that you can go from sleeping in the gutters of Nicaragua to graduating from the most prestigious Universities of the U.S. with an MBA! Te amo Jason!

I just fired up a Churchhill which is a giant freakin’ cigar. Whenever Mitch, Jason and I got together we would smoke these. I would bring them from my town of Esteli which is where they are grown and we would sit around and smoke our giant cigars and drink rum and feel like big shots!

Tonight I smoke a big fatty cigar in honor of you guys.I hope all your dreams are being realized.

At one point the three of us made an epic bike ride along the southern coastline of Nicaragua. We camped out in my small tent and bought fish from the local fisherman. We would cook on an open campfire. We would build a bond fire each night from driftwood spread around the coast that we were tasked to collect each night after biking all day.

We mountain biked along a cow path that ran parallel w the coastline for days and when that trail eventually ran out we rode our bikes on the hard pact sand near the surf. There was nothing around for miles except the occasional small fishing village…

We were hard core explorers living in the moment. In fact If I may take the liberty to say, I think we were living our lives like a candle in the wind… never knowing who to cling to when the rain sets in. OK that was cheesy but it came on the my computer playlist... the Eric Donaldson version...

Yes we were kids, young men. Adventure and freedom were our only guides.We lived life with a passion in those days. I remember at one point on our journey we were camping in an especially nice spot and we were near a small town. In the evening we would go out hunting for turtles that we had heard came onto shore at night to lay their eggs. I remember one night we saw the biggest turtle I had ever seen scooching along the coast.

We returned to the tent that night and we noticed one of our skillets was missing. The next night we decide to use our collective intellect and after returning from drinking in the local town that night we decided to bury our cooking utensils under out tent.

Sure enough the next morning we realized that they had stolen our pots underneath our tent as we slept! That did not deter our adventure.

We continued our adventure south down the southern coastline of Nicaragua minus a pot and a couple pans. We determined on that journey that we should buy as much coastline property as possible while we could!

Well, needless to say the life of a Peace Corps volunteer is not riddled with money. So that was one dream that would soon bypass us. Now that same coastline that we biked down many years ago is quickly being bought up by idiot Americans who have never lived more than a few weeks in Nicaragua.

Fortunately I eventually did end up purchasing a stretch of coastline in the northern coast of Nicaragua that my friends and I came close to viewing back then but was inaccessible. Even today it is one of the most inaccessible coastlines of Nicaragua.

At one point we all made a pact that we would come back and live in Nicaragua and not forget the mindset that we had developed after living in this beautiful country for over 2 years.

I am not sure I would hold them to this pack.. I sometimes wonder if I will ever come back and live down here permanently. However I think the larger aspect of that pact would be to live with the mindset that we had when we made that pact.

I think I will always hold them and all my fellow Nica 6 compatriots to the pact which is the freedom and feelings of such a higher and more meaningful purpose that exists in this world. Yes…. I do hold you to that higher standard and you are obligated to fulfill that pact!

I only hope that all people can subscribe to that philosophy one day.
Bob Marley is piping in, Don’t worry about a thing. Cuz’ everything little thing is gonna be alright. Don’t worry.

How fucking appropriate. Are the stars aligning? All you pessimists… just fuck off!
Doth’ says Kev!

Chillin at the Rancho - Part 2

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 17:32:00 +0000

Don Gabino my father in law. Now that´s a cool cat!

So if you need or want to lose weight…. Nicaragua is the place to come. I mean you can’t drive down to the local McDonalds whenever you want. Almost every meal comes with a heaping of rice and vegetables and small meat portions. Although I have to admit, they have discovered French fries and serve them with every meal! I mean even when you order a Filet Mignon, it is served with French Fries. Hey I am a fan of French fries so no worries there.

Now when you add the fact that you walk almost everywhere here in Nicaragua, you can’t help but lose weight when you come down here.

When I first arrived in my little town of Pueblo Nuevo I was driving my little clown car 3 blocks to the local internet café. Typical American right?

Now I have turned over a new leaf and I have started hoofing it around my little town. Hell, you can throw a rock from one side of town to the other… well almost.

I like the little road to get to the Rancho… It looks like a jungle road with a small river to one side…but don’t get too hammered or you will end up in the river for sure! There is no curb at all… just a drop to the river below.

So my buddy Mike told me a story about how he was driving his truck one night with a friend a little… well… Let’s just say… a little inebriated. So he gets pulled over by the cops and not only does he not have a valid driver’s license but he didn’t even have license plates or insurance on the truck he was driving. Not to mention the fact that his Visa has been expired for over 2 years. Yeah… the Visa that actually allows him to be in the freakin’ country!

So after some careful deliberations with the cop, the “said” cop gave Mike a DUI ticket and sent him on his away. WTF? You get a DUI and they give you a ticket and let you keep on driving? Yeah you get a ticket for DUI here! Wow….

Mike now has a driver to take him everywhere he wants to go these days…. Smart!

The Peace Corps flew us to Miami for 3 days of orientation before our departure to Nicaragua. After arriving in Miami and taking a shuttle to the hotel, I opened the door and there was this young white kid in the room on the phone babbling in Spanish. I didn’t understand a word he was saying.

I got nervous thinking that I bet all the other Peace Corps volunteers speak Spanish! That would not be the case. When he got off the phone I introduced myself and he told me he was Craig. I told him how excited I was and how I couldn’t wait to begin this big adventure.

“Dude aren’t you excited?”

He looked at me rather strangely and said “I guess… why should I be”? I took Craig out to a bar that night in Miami and Craig got literally falling down drunk after 2 beers… no lie! Within just a few hours that night Craig got drunk, sobered up and got drunk again… I had never seen anything like it in my life.

Craig would end up living in a small town about 45 minutes north of my town in Nicaragua and we became good friends. He was the closest volunteer stationed near me and we had some good times. I decided to ride my bike to Craig’s house one day down the hairiest mountain in Nicaragua. More on that story later.

Craig would eventually learn how to put down small amounts of Rum and Beer but he never was a big drinker. Now, a big jokester…. YES!Craig would end up living inside a small bank in an even smaller town called Condega. You just can´t make this shit up!

So the next day in Miami I decided to go down to our hotel bar for a beer…. I’m seeing a pattern here!

Anyways, so I am sitting down at the bar at the opposite end from some random guy. I was wearing an SDSU T-Shirt. The guy looks at me and says “Hey did you go to SDSU?”
I said, “No” perhaps not even realizing I was wearing the shirt. Perhaps I should have followed up with some other conversation… but I didn’t.

The next day in my Peace Corps orientation I saw the same guy. It turns out that the guy who asked me about my shirt was named Mitch and he was also a fellow Peace Corps volunteer in my group headed south!

Mitch would become one of my best friends in Nicaragua and he would later tell me that he thought I was a major asshole from that first meeting! I suppose I never was good on 1st impressions!

Mitch… well his name anyways, would one day become the most infamous names in Nicaraguan history. Hurricane Mitch hit Nicaragua in 1999…basically destroying the Northern part of Nicaragua (Yes… my home turf). The funny part was that I was actually traveling in my Ford F250 from San Diego on my way back to Nicaragua when the storm hit! I was on the border of Guatemala when the reports started coming in. More on that story later!

Here is my F250 that has put in some serious mileage and offroading action... now it´s for sale...It has seen better days for sure.

So I am sitting there at this orientation with 12 other people that would make up Nicaragua Group 6. Or as we would later come to be called, Nica 6.

At some point the person giving the orientation looked around at the 13 of us and said… “Look around, at least 3-4 of you will marry a local person… those are the odds.”

I looked around and laughed at these suckers! Man… these guys are going to get married? Luckily it won’t be me!

I mean…. I had decided long ago that marriage and me were not even in the cards! Marrying in Nicaragua? Not even a remote possibility!!!!

Well, the joke turned out to be on me! Out of our group of 13…. 3 didn’t make it past the first 3 months… and out of the remaining 10 volunteers in my group 5 ended up marrying local people… myself included.

When our plane arrived in Nicaragua, I remember walking out the door of the plane and the hot humid air blowing into my face…overwhelming me. I started sweating profusely at that very moment and I don’t think I stopped sweating for 3 months!
Back then they wheeled the stairs up to the plane and I remember walking down the stairs and looking around thinking I was on another planet! Then when we managed to make it through customs and immigration and finally get into our bus… I realized that I was not on another planet....

I realized that I was not on another planet but that I had really just been transported back in time! The airplane I had been on taking me to Nicaragua must have really been a time machine. A time machine taking me back to a time in history that I had only read about in text books.

On our bus taking us to the city of Granada, we passed oxen pulling carts of firewood, we raced past horses and mules. The cars on the road did not look like any cars I had ever seen. It turns out that they were really old Russian cars left behind from when the Russians and Cubans were working with the Sandinistas in the 70´s.

Our bus took us to a hotel in the small colonial town of Granada. Granada is a now thriving tourist town on the shores of a large lake. People take enormous amounts of pride in the city. It has very cool interesting colonial style architecture. An American named William Walker sacked the city in the 1800’s and then burned it! He would later go on to proclaim himself President of Nicaragua. Americans have basically been fucking this country ever since!

When I arrived at my hotel in Granada all I remember was the heat. We had arrived in the hottest month of the year. High 90’s with the same degree of humidity! Tropical hell! I remember taking a shower, getting out, toweling off, getting dressed and then being just as wet as when I got out of the shower.

The heat was unbearable and the pitiful A.C. in our hotel room just barely passed as a fan. I began losing weight that week and it was a steady progression for the next 3months. The Peace Corps nurses would eventually pull me to the side each time they saw me and make me hop on the scale to see if I was going to completely melt away!

So the coffee measurement came up a tad short of the 4 manzanas… so we had to go back to the negotiation table… more fun…. We got it all sorted out and now they are cutting back the weeds on the property as part of the deal. Everything should be finalized on Friday. I come home the conquering hero for making a great deal, well hopefully!

I’m listening to Bob Marley right now…. I’m back at the Rancho a few days after my last blog. I listened to a lot of Reggae when I was in the Peace Corps. I mean a lot. One of my buddies lived on a small Caribbean Island called Corn Island on the East Coast of Nicaragua. Man he had it made! I mean the clearest blue waters you ever saw. Everybody listened to Reggae on the Island. The Caribbean side of Nicaragua has African slave descendants that American and Europeans brought over to work the Banana plantations and extract hard wood in the area way back when. So it has the Jamaican Caribbean vibe. Tim ended up turning me onto a lot of Reggae that I had never heard. He also ended up extending his Peace Corps service an extra year… Smart!

One of the nicer houses in Pueblo Nuevo....

People are once again rolling into the Rancho, just a few. Hey, it is Tuesday after all. I guess people come here to eat too!

So as new Peace Corps volunteers we began going to meetings each day, all day. We were learning about the culture, language, social customs, etc… In the evenings we went to the local bars and drank! One night we went to a circus that was in town. I remember being slightly frightened! The sights, sounds and smells were all new and unique.

The first big question all the volunteers had was where would we all be living for our first three months of training. All we knew is that we would be living in some part of Nicaragua with a Nicaraguan family and we would be studying Spanish and the culture for 3 months.

After much secrecy and meetings and back and forth…Finally they told me I would be living in Masaya. A major city… Yes! But I would be living specifically in Monimbo a small “hood” where the indigenous population lived. One of the last ancestral Indian cultures of Nicaragua. Basically they were putting me in the freaking ghetto of Masaya… nice! Not only that… this is where the Sandinista uprising took hold. Great!

The local carpenter and his shop...

Taking a break...

So now after living for a week in a “nice” hotel with shitty air conditioning and receiving all my meals from a restaurant I was being driven to Monimobo, Masaya to live with a local family. Can you say nervous? I was so freaking scared. I was leaving all my friends and my safety net. This was it!

They dropped me off with my Nicaraguan family said a few words and away the Peace Corps went. Bye have fun!

A big Native American looking man and a pretty blondish Spanish looking lady greeted me. I noticed a baby swinging lazily in a hammock in the living room. They showed me my room that was actually kind of nice. It had a small bed and a dresser and it was all mine. I dropped off my luggage and then went to the living room where we began a pathetic attempt of communication. Basically I didn’t understand a word they said and my Spanish was atrocious. This is when I realized that my 4 years of High School Spanish and 1 year of college Spanish was basically a pile of shit and good for nothing!

All I remember in our first conversation was me having to pee so bad I thought I would bust. I remember trying to talk to them but really just having to go! I finally tried to tell them my concerns in Spanish that I needed to get to a toilet fast...but my attempts were to no avail and finally making some hand gestures that were abundantly clear to all present they thankfully pointing me in the right direction.

The next 3 months would prove to be extremely interesting and at times somewhat dangerous and life threatening!

So they booted me out of one part of the Rancho because there is a big meeting… Although they put me in one of the little Ranchos that seems perfect for me.. better light and an electric outlet for my computer. Life is good! Oh man… I just found out that they are having an AA meeting… no wonder they are hiding me way back here! I should have known when I saw then busting out the coffee maker! Man… I should ask them when the next meeting is!

Eric Donaldson is one of the Reggae bands that Tim turned me onto. Man… one of my all time favorites!

So let’s talk about getting some perspective.

We get so caught up in the running around in the States that we sometimes forget to sit back and get some perspective on life! We are like little rats running around a maze occasionally we get into the wheel and go around in circles. We sometimes are stuck in a rut and fail to progress.

It seems we are always striving for the almighty dollar. This is our main objective within the maze. Find the dollars… and when we actually do find them, we want to find more! Thus, we wage the epic struggle which is the pursuit of money. Hey, I’m in the same fucking rat money maze too. I won’t lie. I want that money too!

I think we all realize that money is not everything. However, we also are smart enough to realize that money can make our lives a hell of a lot easier! Therein lies the dichotonomy.

Therefore I think it is imperative for all of us to find a way to step back, and find some sort of perspective on what is important to us in life. We need to find some sort of semblance of reality. And within this reality we are allowed to visualize that which makes us truly happy! Or so the philosophy goes… I mean I just studied all that right brain shit in college. What do I really know?

Regardless, I personally search for these brief moments of clarity when I visit Nicaragua. Here I am able to clear the various cobwebs from my brain and if for only a brief point in time, I am able to leap over the walls of the money maze and wander freely within my own beliefs, my own happiness and my own feelings of love and hope.

Yes, here in Nicaragua I find my personal freedom. Here I am Kevin… the ideological young man with the same spark for life that I once possessed when I decided to join the Peace Corps many moons before! Man this is getting sappy!

The local Western Union...

GIVE ME THE MONEY NOW!

Well… I must admit, in the beginning when I first returned to the United States after living in Nicaragua for 2 ½ years, I did not relate to anybody.

I mean I had just returned from an extremely mind altering experience. Kind of like tripping on acid for 2 and a half years! Now how do I co-exist in this strange world that I left behind?

The Peace Corps had tried to prepare me for re-entering the United States. They told me that there would be aftershock. They told me that I would not be able to relate to people when I first returned. They told me I would have various feelings of longing for my adopted country of Nicaragua. They told me that I may not feel that I belonged in the U.S.

Well they were right! Fuckin’ A they were right! When I returned to the good ol’ U.S. of A I felt like I had once again been transported back to another planet! A strange and distant planet that I had trouble relating to!

I felt like I could never view the U.S. exactly the same. Basically I felt like Ozzy Ozbourne in the epic song… “I’m going off the rails on a crazy train”. Do you like how I tie heavy metal into my writings??

Now many years later I am rocking to that same song and finding parallels in the words?

So I am 15 years old and my buddy John says hey Kevin let’s go see a Punk Show tonight. Well who the hell am I to say no? So we go up to the local show one night at Wabash Hall. We had both snuck out of the house that night. Black Flag was the band for the night! I remember there was a little stage and all these crazy looking people all around.

Then out of nowhere some crazy drug addict looking guys came walking by John and I and then they jumped on the foot high stage and started just screaming their lungs out!

Turns out they were Black Flag… They just starting going off! Everybody starting slamming and I was scared out of my wits! Eventually my buddy and I jumped into the mayhem and began throwing our bodies around in sync. John continues to be one of my best friends today!

John made a pilgrimage down to Nicaragua with me at one point! Props to him! I was able to show him my other world.

I think everybody needs to journey outside their realm of comfort in order to find meaning. Life is more than money and running through a maze. Life is about finding purpose...

Maybe... right? But then again, what do I know?

Chillin´at the Rancho...

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 17:05:00 +0000

Today I slept about 4 hours… major siesta… that was after sleeping in too… I guess the warm air just makes you tired down here! Here is a picture of my house in Nicaragua and my little clown rental car!

My neighbors...

My street...

My outdoor stove...

Now I am chillin at the Rancho drinking a beer..

So I made some headway on buying 4 manzanas of coffee. I think the deal is going through. Lots of back and forth and points when you think the deal will never happen. Business is done much differently down here. First you sit around and chit chat for about ½ an hour and then you subtly bring up the business at hand. They state their opinion and then you state yours. You haggle some. Then they get mad and threaten to leave then you get mad and threaten to leave. And finally after this give and take...you seal the deal with a handshake. Usually the bickering is about such petty things I can’t help but feel I should just give in but then you won’t be respected and the next deal you do you will get fucked for sure!

Tomorrow we will measure the property to ensure the size is as quoted and then we will have the lawyers do their thing on Monday. 1 manzana is equivalent to approximately 1.77 acres. That will bring us up to about 20 manzanas total or 35 acres of coffee…. Little by little! Of course all my peeps will be the first to get a shot at buying our delicious coffee when we manage to get it to the states! Ha! Crop comes in around December… taking orders now!

Rocking to a little Iron Maiden…. Ear phones dialed in! Man you have to love computers…. My typing becomes so much faster when I bust out the heavy metal! So hard to keep the fingers from doing the devil ears when I rock this stuff… I wonder what my Nicaraguan friends would think to see me just start major head bangin’… devil ears rockin’… tear off my shirt! Fuck yeah! 22 Acacia Avenue! They should rename the Rancho! This just in: Insane Gringo banging his head hard at local Rancho Bar and fingers permanently affixed to the devil ear sign. Must be some sort of voodoo!

Saturday night here in Nicaragua… should get fun tonight. Hopefully I’ll be safely tucked away in bed when all the madness starts going down. Early in early out is my philosophy! Just trying to keep it simple! Ok mixing it up with Jimmy Buffet and The Eagles. Music sounds so good down here. You sometimes feel that you are sooo very far away from everything you know down here. When you start listening to an old favorite like Tequila Sunrise everything comes back into perspective and life is all good!

Small ranchos around the big rancho...

Beer 3 now with Led Zeppelin bringing me up the Stairway….. They leave the empty beer bottles on the table. I guess it makes it easier to total up your final bill, but it also lets everybody else around you know how much you are throwing back! Weird!

Yeah… Nicaragua is a really cool and extremely interesting country. You definitely have to come here with an open mind however. This is definitely not your Club Med experience. Things can definitely be tough! The weather can be hot, humid and depending on where you are and what time of year it is, outright unbearable. The food can be great one day and the worse crap you ever ate the next. The bathrooms are an adventure every time! You never know what exactly you are walking into! You could walk into a normal toilet or it could be a hole in a cement slab going down into the most stinky pit imaginable.

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Different philosophies on life too: When I was staying at the beach I saw the coolest neon red crabs with bright yellow spots constantly cruising everywhere around the property. Then you would see Mike come running by like superman and splat! Smashed crab guts all over! He would stomp on the craps with his foot and then kick them to the side… apparently they eat all his tropical plants and foliage that he spends hours planting. They also dig deep holes all around the property. Now a regular person may freak out on this…. I don’t mind… and when I saw a couple crabs one night creeping to my feet... well I just kicked them out of the Rancho… but I spared the guy’s life.

I nicknamed Mike, “Crab Killer”! He said these type of crabs suck to eat or make soup out of so he doesn’t mind splatting them! Stacey gave me some gigantic shrimp one night with this honey jalapeno dip that was out of this world! The shrimp were caught just up the coast… fresh and yummy and cheap! Crab is in abundance down here too! Hopefully we can get the kind we want to eat next time!

The northern part of Nicaragua… specifically the Esteli region is famous for cattle, cigars and coffee. The cigars are so smooth you don’t really feel like you are smoking. You don’t inhale the smoke to begin with, so you are just left with this really mild taste. They blow away any other cigars in the world! Cuba? Yeah, whatever! Most of the owners of the tobacco here are from Cuba! They know a good thing when they see it, or when they smoke it… in this situation!

Now if everybody can just Stop, Collaborate and Listen! Oh boy……… Now that party is jumping…. I may need to switch up to some Gran Reserva (Rum).

Now this is a roof....

Change is so slow in Nicaragua. It is so slow that it is hard to see. Yes there is definite change but for the casual observer you can almost miss it!

I think I need to make a trip back down to Granada and Masaya soon where I began my Nicaraguan journeys. This may put some perspective on the change. I first came to Nicaragua in March of 1995. I was an idealistic young man searching for meaning in my existence. I had been working in the Department of Social Services for the previous 2 years after graduating from college from Chico State with my Business Degree.

I graduated in a recession and I soon became convinced the cards were all stacked against me. I mean I had gone to college and graduated fulfilling all the preaching I had been subjected to since I was basically in the womb. I took the tough route in college… with my Business Degree. I didn’t do the Communications or Physical Education Bull Shit… sorry to those who did. But I took the tough route… hard math classes and right side brain bull shit!

When I graduated I held that fucking piece of paper… (my business degree) up like a torch. High in the sky expecting the world to lay down before me. Here it is…. Throw your money at my feet now! Man was I in for a rude awakening. People could have given a shit less about that piece of paper. When things are tough in the States… that piece of paper represents money that somebody can’t afford to pay you! OVER FUCKING QUALIFIED!

So I got my little government job doling out the welfare. My first actual real job and one of the few jobs I am actually proud of by the way. The job allowed me to work a 4-10 week. Basically 4 days a week 10 hours a day. So I had 3 days off each week. I soon began traveling south into Mexico the very minute my 3 day break began. I began traveling further and further south each week in my little VW Camper Van. I would surf and camp out, drink beers… I was really searching....

There I was searching and searching for some sort of meaning to my existence. I eventually came to the realization that I needed something more…. I’m not sure exactly how it came to me. Yet one day… the Peace Corps started to burn into my brain! The more I looked into it the more the Peace Corps started to fill the void for me and my quest was on! I began filling out all the forms and paperwork that was required. I took some exams I believe and I finally got my interview set. I put my best suit on and travelled up to L.A. Imagine my surprise when I hit L.A. traffic! Shit.

I called to say that I was running late. I got there about ½ hour late knowing that I had probably blown all my chances of making it into the Peace Corps. However the girl that interviewed me was so cool and laid back (an ex-peace corps volunteer… but I didn’t know what that meant at the time). Even as I apologized profusely for arriving late she just said no worries. She asked ne a series of questions basically to determine if I was a fucking nut case for wanting to go into the Peace Corps and give up 2 years of my life!

Her final question to me was this simple one, “Kevin what are you running from by joining the Peace Corps”? I didn’t hesitate, looked her directly in her eyes and said, “I am not running from anything, I am running to something. The Peace Corps is calling me and has been calling me for many years. I am running to the Peace Corps.”

“WOW I never heard that answer” was her response. At that moment I knew I was in.

Everything I had said was true. I had opened my heart to the Peace Corps and there was no other destiny for me! A month later the letter came in the mail.

Easy E is now telling me to Fuck the Police… now I do subscribe to that philosophy on occasion… but now that I am older and wiser I don’t trip that hard on the policia. Especially down here! The Rancho is definitely filling up! Down here you only need to be 18 to drink… and the young bloods are coming in getting their drink on! Thankfully they are listening to the melodic music of Vincente Fernandez… if I started piping my Ozzy through their speaker system this crowd may get out of control! Out of fucking control for sure!

Me and my computer...

There is a special bicycle section for the bar…. Nice!

Reminds me of a DUI on a bicycle I once received in college in the small town of Chico, CA. Where the judge laughed and asked if that was an actual crime and he had to open up his criminal code book! More on that story later! Ozzy is just going off right now… man I love guitar riffs! The Rancho is filling up… I’m getting buzzed….almost time to smoke my cigar and get out of here! Oh…. MR. Crowley…. I mean Cromley…. Ozzy missed this song by one letter!

Man… my music is so heavy tonight! Moving away from the soft stuff! Ozzy can definitely throw down!

OK Time to switch to rum! Down here you just buy the whole bottle. No messing around and they kick down a bottle of coke a bucket of ice and away you go...

So I will let you in on a little secret! I brought my mom with me on this trip! Yes my mom passed away recently. I was given her ashes. And well I am spreading those puppies all over Nicaragua. I want her to see my travels. I put some in the ocean where I stayed down in Mechapa Beach. I will put some in the cemetery here in Pueblo Nuevo and I will spread some around my house down here in Nicaragua. Ashes to ashes dust to dust… now rock on!

I’ve found that the back of a wooden match makes for an excellent poker for a cigar! I don’t know if it is positive or negative but the younger crowd seems to have learned how to drink and hold their booze and the weird violence that used to pervade in Nicaraguan bars seems to have subsided. However I think this has more to do with economics and the fact that most of the young men here seem to have money to buy beer and not have to split a bottle of cheap alcohol which generally leads to more violence…

micro-economic solutions to major problems such as early pregnancy, violence to women, etc…

In fact looking around, I am the only person sucking down the RUM…

Cigar is fired up… a slow burn…. Smooth and controlled!

Now the night draws to a close….

Closing in on last call………. My personal last call!
The electicity just went out here at the Rancho…. Only my computer is shedding light on the topic… Iron Maiden is now busting hard.

Now the electricity is back on. It was only a bref moment of obscurity! Or was it rather a brief moment of clarity?????

Now there I was standing there with my Peace Corps letter in my hands... I was so nervous! Even though I knew the result… I still opened it with trepidation.

There were the words laid out before me…. Congratulations Kevin, you have been accepted into the Peace Corps. If you accept you will be stationed in Nicaragua and will be leaving in 2 months. First thought... FUCK YEAH!!!! Second thought: O.K. Where in the fuck is Nicaragua?

Now my first choice had been to go to a Caribean Island followed by South America and finally Central America. I had been surfing awhile and I wanted to be near the coast. After busting out every map I could get my hands on I finally said, Oh hell yeah I will go to Nicaragua!

I had heard all the rumors about Ollie North Iran/Contra scandal, Sandinistas, etc… I actually imagined living in a jungle with rebels carrying AK47’s patrolling all around my hut.... But I really didn’t care. The Peace Corps would not steer me wrong.

My life changed drastically that very day. I have been reaping the benefits of my decision ever since. Life is all about forks in the road… Often times picking the less traveled, tougher path can make all the difference in your life....

Beach Adventures

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Fri, 23 Jul 2010 15:48:00 +0000

Last night as I slept 10 feet from the ocean, the skies began to thunder. The loud explosions sounded like they were directly above my little cabana. That mixed with the roaring of the ocean yards away made for a nerve racking night. When I awoke, I watched the ocean lap just steps away from my cabin.

There is a river that runs parallel to the cabins here at Redwood Beach Resort. Apparently this year the tides have come up higher than usual and there has also been more rain than usual so the water has been carving down the sides of the land with the cabins facing the river which flows into the ocean. The owners are in an epic battle with mother nature trying to redirect the river and also redirect the flow of the small lake that it flows into. The erosion is very devastating and getting closer and closer to their beachfront cabins.

Apparently an ex Peace Corps volunteer runs a small backpackers hotel on the beach about 30 kilometers south of this spot and woke up one night to the tide rising and the next thing you know they were 4 feet underwater! How would you like to be a guest on that night?

This morning after coffee...

we went to the local fish shack to shop for some dinner...

The fishermn fish all night and come home in the morning with their catch...

Sleeping after a hard night´s work....

We made our purchases and on our way we went...

So for this year´s trip I decided to save some money and rent a little economy car. Since I’m here for 3 weeks, that’s like a $1000 dollar savings over renting a 4x4. Well we call these clown cars down here because they are so small and funny looking. Suzuki Alto… don’t see many in the States.

So I had no problem getting to the beach… a few bumps and mini rivers to forge. However, with the big thunder came some big rain too. I was dreading this because I had planned to head back to the mountains and I knew the little rivers I had crossed a few days before were going to be some problems.

Fortunately Mike… Mike and Stacey own the hotel here at Redwood Beach Resort. They are a great American couple and really know the area. I have been coming here and hanging out at their hotel with them for over 4 years. We go kayaking, fishing, surfing, boating and we hike the local volcano. In the evenings we all sit around sipping cocktails or we play pool or bachi ball and I tell them about the states and they tell me about Nicaragua. They are great friends.

Anyways, Mike decided to accompany back to the big major city of Chinandega about 2 hours away. He needed some supplies but I think he really wanted to make sure I made it back in one piece. He brought his tow straps just in case. They would be put to some could use! After visiting the local cockfighting center...

we ran into the first major river and it turned pretty ugly. Now normally you can just slowly go right through these things. The first couple times I did it I was nervous… especially when the water comes up over your hood! Now I kind of just blow through them.... Well I did manage to get across the water but then we got stuck in the mud.

The next guys to come along tried to go around me in some beat up truck and he got stuck too…

So now here we are blocking the whole river. It didn’t take long but the next thing you know a Nicaraguan who used to live in Miami and spoke perfect English showed up and 20 other Nicaraguans all pitched in and pulled us out. The Nicaraguan guys also had a cooler full of beers! It was hot so Mike and I enjoyed a cold beer as everybody helped drag us out of the mud. I took a look inside the beater truck and his gear shifter was all rotted out and you could see the river flowing underneath his truck from the inside… nice! We told the guys to go hve some beers on the house at Mike´s hotel!

So we had fun bouncing around the rest of the road racing through mini lakes and fishtailing on mud roads… The 4x4 would have definitely been more fun… but the little Suzuki held its own and made for some fun times.

Mike and I decided to stop at this place called Los Asseradoras where a French guy recently opened a restaurant/hotel. He is up on some hills with a 360 degree view of the ocean and mountains about 2 kilometers from the beach.

The view is absolutely beautiful. He was preparing a meal for a professional surfer Kelly Beck and her friends who own a place just down the hill on the beach. He also ferments rum with a variety of flavors: ginger, passion fruit, cinnamon, garlic and others. We sampled a few and they were delicious.

We had a nice chat with another guy from Germany and a girl from England. They had been bouncing around the country for over a year. It was a mini United Nations meeting!

Here is Mike!

After awhile we finally decided we better get going....or we were gonna polish off this guy´s rum! Since he was friends with Mike he didn´t even charge us anything... nice! I gave him a couple of my prized cigars from my mountain town Esteli... his eyes lit up! And away we went on our trip again...

These guys were working hard tossing watermellons on the road...

We finally made it to Chinandega. Now the rule is whenever you arrive in a big city in Nicaragua you always find a good restaurant and have a good meal. We decided on a great Filet Mignon lunch… $6 bucks each. Then I dropped him off with a friend of his to do his supply shopping and I started heading back to the mountain… on an actual freeway. YES! Or so I thought!

I had only gone about 3 kilometers when I was stopped in a huge traffic jam. It seems two semi’s had crashed into each other and one of the trucks had 7000 gallons of gasoline which spilled all over the 2 lane highway backing it up for miles. So there I sat for another 4 hours!

They eventually got the road cleaned up and I got on my way. I drove for another 5 hours in the evening passing various obstacles… cows, horses, local cops… and in one part a drunk guy standing in the middle of the road not moving... like a freakin statue!

COW LAYING IN ROAD!

I’m finally back in my home in the mountains unwinding after another fun and adventure trip to the beach. Time for my siesta!

"Que Hay?"

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 00:59:00 +0000

Que Hay?

So I have arrived in Nicaragua. I was flying down some dirt road in my rental car. My rental car that looks like a clown car from the circus.

Anyways I’m flying down some dirt road in the middle of what seems like a lush jungle in the northern mountainous regions of Nicaragua near the border of Honduras when a hen comes darting out into the road up in front of my path. I hit the brakes hard and began slowing just in time to see a trail of chicks frantically scrambling behind their mom trying desperately to clear my path. I thought for sure I had hit the last little straggler and I looked into my rear view mirror in anticipation of seeing the splattered remains of a little chick. However, I was happily greeted to the sight of that little chick jumping into the bushes and disappearing into the lush foliage in quick pursuit of of its mother.

Then a cop pulled me over for trying to drive around a couple semi's. I mean everybody does it! After 15 minutes of arguing... I said hey just take $3 and let me be on my way... I normally don't like participating in the whole bribery deal...but I was tired and the cop looked funny and I just said the hell with hit... I mean it's $3 freakin dollars!

Last night the rain came down hard and long. The rain came down so hard onto my tin roof that the Spanish television program I was watching was inaudible… completely drowned out… no pun intended. Not that I minded much. The rain would continue to come down hard for 6 straight hours and the little trickle of water down the hill from my house turned into a raging river. San Diego would be an island if that much rain came down in that period! The electricity went off and on sporadically throughout the night.

Nobody panics when your suddenly sitting in the pitch black of night. In fact this is usually the cause of great laughter as people scatter and fumble around looking for a candles and matches. Perhaps these situations can attest to the progress in Nicaragua... because although the electricity may go out haphazardly; everybody seems to have a cell phone which they pull out in times like these and they are put to good use as temporary flashlights. Ahh progress!

Now the day after the big rain everything is wet. However it does not appear as though a major rain just happened. Everything is wet and lush but not flooded. The streets are dry for the most part. Everything is moist and somewhat sticky. In a few days I will head to the beach. The trip will be a true adventure… a long, windy and twisted road. The Beatles must have visited the northern Pacific coast of Nicaragua when they wrote “The Long and Windy Road”!

I decided to stop by the town “Rancho”. Rancho is a bar/restaurant. It is open air with a huge palm thath roof and a bar. Tables are scattered around under the giant palm roof. There are other smaller ranchos spread around too. People sit around the different tables drinking beer and rum. They serve great food here all cooked over a wood burning stove.

Kids are free to run around or watch T.V. and the music is always vibrating loudly throughout from speakers hanging sporadically around the branches which serve as the skeleton of the "Rancho". Good times are had here for all! The regulars only give the Gringo a passing glance. After coming to Pueblo Nuevo yearly and owning a house here for more that 13 years… I am no longer a novelty in this small town of 2,000 where the main mode of transportation is bicycle followed by horse or mule, motorcycles and the rare vehicle.

Pueblo Nuevo is a small town high in the mountains. Pueblo Nuevo is surrounded by farms growing crops of beans, onions, peppers, corn, tobacco. Pueblo Nuevo is also surrounded by higher mountains which when you ascend you will find some of the best coffee in the world growing on mountain slopes and valleys in a natural forest like setting.

We own about 20 acres of coffee here. When we originally purchased the land I remember walking around and I found the land to be thick, lush and confusing. I became so lost that I did not know which direction I was walking or even how to return. Looking up was no help because I was surrounded by large trees and rows and rows and rows of coffee bushes. I was hot sweaty and tired after walking only a short distance within the land. I can only imagine the difficult task of picking each coffee bean by hand when the crop comes in. Some of the coffee grows on slopes so steep that I couldn’t imagine going down without a rope. Yet these people have been picking these same beans for over a hundred years and they are skilled enough to not need ropes or any equipment.

Some day we will figure out how to export the coffee to the U.S. and make some good money but for now we are content to sell the crops to coffee wholesalers at a pittance of its true value. The little money we do make allows us to slowly grow our operation and buy more coffee land every few years. It also helps pay for our trips down to Nicaragua and it puts some money in the pockets of her family who runs the farm.

The Rancho sells ribs cooked over open flames, barbequed chicken fried plantains, rice, etc… The funny part is that there are no menus. Most small restaurants in small towns throughout Nicaragua are the same. You basically ask what they have. “Que Hay”? When you do find a restaurant with menus they normally will only hand out one per table not to each individual. Then after considerable time spent studying the menu, your conversation will go like this, “I’ll have the chicken.” “No hay” oh man…. “o.k. I’ll have the fish.” “No hay” and on and on. Until finally in exacerbation you go back to the classic line, “Que hay”?

I’ve learned after so many years not to get upset and just start the conversation with, “Que Hay”? Much simpler and less stressful. Furthermore, when the beers are cold, the weather is wet and sticky, the tunes are cranking, why become upset over trivialities? Well? Huh? I mean this is the exact reason I travel outside of the U.S. to decompress! I mean living in the U.S. has great advantages but sometimes you feel as though you are living inside a pressure cooker!

I mean you are constantly worried about making money, spending money saving money losing money, jobs, getting a job, maintaining a job, losing a job, getting a better job, rising within your job, getting an education, getting more education, your kids’ education, are they getting a good education. Having kids, raising kids, getting kids to school, getting kids into sports and activities, making sure they are successful in their activities. Making sure our kids do their homework, doing it properly, not enough homework, too much homework, good teachers, good schools, friends, not enough friends, too many friends, the right friends, the right neighborhood. Personal time, relationships, family time, personal fitness, healthy foods, correct diet, friendships waking up on time… getting enough sleep, etc….
AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!

In the end the pressure cooker pounds on us so hard we need to find some sort of escape.

Coming to Nicaragua allows me to decompress. I sleep pretty much the first 2-3 days upon my arrival. Wake up, eat, nap time, wake up, dinner time, read a little and then time for bed. After 2-3 days of this I start to get some energy again. The pace is so slow here people spend hours talking to friends, relaxing, enjoying life. Yes they work too and have kids and raise families but they just don’t seem so frantic about every aspect of their lives.

So.... here it is a couple days later and I've arrived at the beach w my host Mike and Stacey who own a hotel on the beach which is actually small cabins located directly on the beach in the Northern Pacific region of Nicaragua.

On my travels to the beach...I managed to end up in the middle of a Sandinista caravan of hundreds of buses and trucks on their way to Nicaragua's capital to celebrate their independence day! These guys are so hard core they even ride on top of the buses!

So I am now at Redwood Beach... in Mechapa, Nicaragua. The surf is big and formidable.... I am staying in a cabin steps from the beach.... check them out at redwoodbeachresort.com

This is one of the most remote parts of Nicaragua. I was literally driving through lakes and riverbeds to get here.... but oh man.... is it one of the most beautiful unspoiled beaches in the world! Now we are going to play pool "American Style" with the beach as our background! Mike is going to get spanked! After spanking Mike in pool... I will definitely be hungry and I will politely ask, "QUE HAY"???????

The Day When Love Will Catch Your Fall....... College love....

noreply@blogger.com (KevinCromley) — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 01:07:00 +0000

As I hold my pen I struggle to find.... the reason you’re slowly taking over my mind.

As much as I fight and attempt to resist, I find the shackles on my ankles and the cuffs upon my wrists.

It’s impossible to fight it. It’s much too big for me, the strength of the feelings have brought me to my knee.

Here I must rest until I can begin anew, to fight this mighty beast which is the love I feel for you.

I’ve been fighting this battle for oh so very long, will the beast ever die or is that even wrong?

I sharpen my sword and prepare for a bloody fight, perhaps I’ll wave my white flag for just this lonely night.

But I fear the beast will sense this and he’ll move in for the kill, he’ll stab me in my heart then I’ll have to give to you my will.

The beast is closing in I hear the distant rattle..... so I cross my fingers and head back to the battle.

Although I’ve only known you for a time that was so brief, I understand your feelings and sympathize your grief.

All you’ve ever wanted was to give a little joy... but people don’t understand this and treat it like a toy.

I know its very scary to take away the wall, to scream so very loud and let someone hear your call.

So out the door you go for another night of play, to forget about your problems and brighten up your day.

I know it may be hard, to you an impossible feat, but one day you will open up your eyes and your true love you will meet.

And when this day does come you’ll stand so very tall, for this is the day when love will catch your fall.