Relocating to Nicaragua | An Expat Life in Nicaragua

I am a big fat liar. Really, I am. Yesterday, I re-read the “About the Ex-Pats” page of the blog and I laughed out loud and thought, “what a crock of shit.” The honest-to-God-truth is that I didn’t love anything about this country during our first visit here, which ironically was two years ago to the day. The landscape was brown and dry. Mosquitoes feasted on my ankles. Chirping geckos kept me awake thru the night. The heat was so unbearable that we stayed indoors between 10 am and 3 pm. When we were eventually lured outdoors, it took us a minimum of 2 hours (but usually closer to 4 hours) to get anywhere thanks to pot-hole laden roads and ox-cart traffic jams. And of course…everyone spoke Spanish. There was no way I would be able to learn a foreign language AND make new friends.

While I am no Phileas Fogg, I am no stranger to travel either. From a young age, my parents ingrained in me a spirit for travel and an appreciation of culture. When my sister dropped her backpack halfway down Copper Canyon in the middle of The Sierra Madres, my mother turned to us with a smile and cheerily called, “Now isn’t this an adventure!” She continued to use this phrase throughout our travels including the train ride when a ninety-five year-old goat farmer offered to purchase my sister in exchange for cheese and when said sister fell out of our river raft in class 4 rapids. Hmm – perhaps we should have considered additional travel insurance for my sister? In any case, my family now lovingly uses this “momism” to refer to some of our more challenging of travel experiences as exactly that – experiences.

at the dentist in León, Nicaragua

So why did I detest this trip so much? A little sweat never bothered me before. Well, for one thing, I had a toothache of colossal proportions the day we touched down in Managua which resulted in a root canal on day three of our “get-away.” The pain was so unbearable that I found it hard to see beauty in anything other than a Vicodin prescription. In addition, halfway into our trip, I learned that a dear friend and mentor had passed away after a long battle with cancer. I wanted to be anywhere but in Nicaragua.

But less obvious at the time was that this wasn’t a vacation, this was an evaluation. And every negative encounter was another opportunity to add a check under the “stay in Boston” column. Because the truth was that as intrigued as I was by the prospect of living abroad for the first time in my life, I was also scared shitless.

Incredibly, Justin and I just celebrated our one-year Nicaraguan anniversary a little over a month ago. So how did this come to pass? Well, the visit here handed us a huge dose of reality, which was exactly what we needed in order to determine if we could realistically live here. We learned that we could get quality health care (cheaper and better!), we could get home for emergencies if necessary, and we could make friends that would prove to be not only great resources, but a second family.

I guess the most notable thing here is how quickly I forgot the negative. Or how I began to see it as beautiful. As the pain of the toothache melted away, the dry season transformed into a lush, verdant landscape, each day offering a sunset more stunning than the last. Though the drive to Managua still feels long, I now spend it gazing out the window upon the grazing cows and the billowing volcanoes. I have come to appreciate the dichotomy of Mac trucks and ox carts sharing the same highway and I can’t fall asleep without the chirp of the geckos, my beloved friends, who keep the mosquitoes at bay.

And now with the economy tanking, I could not be more grateful to my husband for encouraging this adventure. Though we have not fully escaped the economic fall-out, we are certainly enjoying a more relaxed and comfortable lifestyle here in San Juan. Am I wearing rose-colored glasses? No. But I certainly like that I get to wear sunglasses everyday.

I’ve been living abroad for just about 5 months now and the time quickly approached for my first visit back to the States. I eagerly anticipated my reunion with family and friends, but also felt oddly anxious about this pending vacation. Have I accomplished enough abroad in 5 months to warrant a visit home? Is my Spanish strong enough to carry on a conversation with my Gringo friends who studied Spanish in high school and want to test my newly acquired language skills? Am I tan? Have I lost any weight? Have I lost too much weight? What will happen to my anxiety-prone, super attached dog while I’m gone? How do I reconcile my new Nicaragüense lifestyle with my North American upbringing? What kind of culture shock should I expect to experience and am I bad person if I don’t experience any and my first stop off the plane is a Dunkin’ Donuts?

Now home, many of those fears have been assuaged. At my age, I have friends who accept me regardless of whether or not I can quote Rueben Dario and they automatically tell me that I sound great and know enough not to comment on my physical appearance – positive or negative. And my family lovingly tells me I’ve put on a few pounds J

It is also an incredible experience to view your own hometown as a foreigner. I’ve lived in Boston for the last 10 years, but this year, I spent my very first 4^th of July at the Hatch Shell, on the Esplanade, among 150,000 other Patriots. I took photos as if I were a tourist, snapping pictures of the Citgo sign, the Hancock Building, and the Charles River. It was a pleasant surprise to turn things inside out.

However, there are some challenges that accompany a first trip home. My 19-month old niece had no memory of her favorite aunt Sarah, having last met me when she was just a little over a year-old. Upon our reintroduction, she ran sobbing past my wide-stretched arms and into those of my sister’s, when she thought my hug was an attempt at kidnapping her stuffed dog. Three days later, we have found a middle ground and she now Gracefully nods off in my arms for her mid-afternoon nap.

It is also a challenge to reintegrate into the world of consumerism. Though maybe not a conscious decision, part of the move to a third world country was the blissful escape from the consumption and “Keeping up with the Jones'” mentality we had become such a part of in North America. However, upon our return to the States, I found it all too easy to slip right back into regular trips to the mall and the “need to have” mindset. It required frequent self-checks to reevaluate what I truly needed versus what I just wanted.

It is also exciting and invigorating to see all of the people you’ve missed over the last 5 months, but it is also exhausting. There is an emotional obligation, not only to your family and friends, but also to yourself, to see everyone that you’ve missed while abroad. It’s fun to regale people with tales of getting the 4×4 stuck in the mud…twice in two days (and getting pulled out by oxen) and make them jealous with the idea of spending afternoons at the beach, cerveza in hand. However, by the 10^th repetition of the story, it begins to sound oddly rehearsed.

And more importantly, there is the realization that back home, life went on without me. While we spew our tales of tropical paradise they are eagerly waiting for an opportunity to share their own stories of growth, which I have tactfully tried to avoid hearing, for fear that listening to them will only make me terribly homesick and ready to jump ship, turn in my airline ticket and stay put, in Boston. By our second week home, I broke into tears in front of my husband from sheer exhaustion and expressed the need for a vacation.

Then, there is the definition of home, altogether. I throw the word around loosely, but the truth is that, even half a year into my Nicaraguan sabbatical, I don’t quite know where home is anymore. To further complicate matters, after the obligatory “life is clearly treating you well there,” everyone follows by asking when we intend to move back home – to Boston. I’ve learned to take this as a compliment, suggesting that people miss us and want us home; however, it does re-open the proverbial can of worms. How long are we staying abroad? Is this a lifetime decision?

The reality is that life abroad is pretty incredible and that first trip back is revitalizing and essential. Nevertheless, it does come with its challenges, some great and some small.

Some recommendations:

-Plan some alone time (or time with your spouse, significant other, etc.), particularly if this trip is intended to also be a vacation. The first time home can be exhausting, filled with friendly reunions and family visits and you’ll need some time away.

-Remember that your friends and family had lives going on, too, while you were away. It’s important to ask about them and not hyper-focus on your life-style change. Most people will inquire after your big adventure, but be sure to reciprocate.

-It’s cliché, but do your best to live in the moment. I spent the better part of a week waking up in the morning and counting how many days I had left before returning to San Juan – not because I couldn’t wait to get back – but because I was already sad about leaving – and I had just arrived! Enjoy the time you have back in the States.

-Do be prepared for some culture shock.

-Before departing Nicaragua, take stock of what you currently have and make a list of the things you want to purchase while in the States. It’s exciting to return home to Suburbia/Mallandia/etc., but it’s also overwhelming having relied on 3-5 stores max for the greater part of a season. It’s best to return home with a plan of what you need to purchase, and get the shopping out of the way, so that you can spend the remainder of your vacation with family, friends, and relaxing,

-Bring limited items and an extra suitcase to the States so that you have room in your suitcase to return with things. These days, airlines are nickel and diming us for everything, so it’s preferable to pay for extra luggage in only one direction.

– Have fun!