Well, after reading Joe's most recent post about how I don't post to my blog anymore, I thought... why the hell not!
First off, I will say that something I learned is that I would do a much better job of blogging had I brought some personal laptop computer with me. This way I could get my thoughts out when the mood struck, and not just when I happened to have internet access (and often trying to beat the clock in the internet café).
Well, now I am in San José, Costa Rica, with access to free, fast internet. So I will write. My journey is ending, and tomorrow morning - Saturday, May 1 - I get on Spirit Airlines for them to take me home to those country roads and the mountain momma of western North Carolina.
I must say that after 3 1/2 months, I am nothing but excited to return to the States. I am excited to see friends and partake in al my favorite traditions - LEAF, contra dances, potlucks, GOOD beer, and oh yeah, MY BICYCLES! Never again will I travel for so long without biking. One lesson learned.
Another lesson? I have loved travelling by myself, but in the future will certainly make sure that for any long-term travel I have more work (paid or volunteer) to give my time in the country(ies) I visit some purpose. It has been too long to go without working towards something. It has been a great exploration of self, but now I am at the brink of wallowing in self-absorption if I don't get to work soon!
My heart will most fondly remember the 9 weeks I spent getting to know the people, landscape, and history of Guatemala. I am thankful that I decided to get to know at least one country very well. Honduras and Costa Rica presented much fun in the sun (scuba, zip-lining, and other touristy things), and Nicaragua was, well, HOT, but absolutely a delight, especially since I spent it with great friends from back home.
I know now that for all the adventure and excitement I have been trying to pull into my life, I do truly miss so many of the things that might otherwise seem "routine" - such things as biking the same delightful trails and roads over and over again, delicious potluck brunches and dinners on someone's porch or yard, giving your partner or shadow an allaman left, sipping on beer and bullshitting about the same bullshit we always bullshit about. Or simply coming home to a familiar bed. It really isn't all that bad!
For me (and I emphasize this, because I know that others are different), travel brings me greater clarity of myself and my home. I am not simply a "citizen of the world." True, the world is getting smaller and smaller - for the good and the bad - and I listen to endless podcasts of nearly one dozen NPR shows just to keep up with it all, but I definitely yearn for citizenship and a sense of place somewhere particular. A place where I can truly live out my scatter-brained, do-it-all lifestyle (all those from Warren Wilson know what I am talking about).
This is because I don't have any ONE thing I am really into. I have a pu pu platter of interests, and thrive off of throwing myself into different situations and massively over-comitting myself. That has been the missing link on my travels in an otherwise pu pu platter-style adventure. Committment. To something, someone, some place. Alright, I know that you think that Ryan Morra commits to nothing... but that is only to abstract things in the future. I'd like to think that when it matters, I do throw myself whole-heartedly into whatever project comes my way. So I return to the grand U. S. of A. with a renewed commitmment to actually commit. I will give it a shot, and see how it goes. All else fails, I don't really have to commit, right?
Well, I think I will close with the ending lines of Mary Oliver's great poem "Have You Even Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches?":
Meanwhile, once in a while, I have chanced, among the quick things, upon the immutable.
What more could one ask?
And I would touch the faces of the daises,
and I would bow down
to think about it.
That was then, which hasn't ended yet.
Now the sun begins to swing down. Under the peach-light,
I cross the fields and the dunes, I follow the oceans's edge.
I climb, I backtrack.
I float.
I ramble my way home.
Thanks for reading... whoever you are.