The Piper Calls -- Nicaragua

Winter -- Wien

One could understand why a fella might want to wander away from a Northern European winter. As much as enjoy living in Vienna, during the winter it is generally grim and gray. A person might want to go to, say, Nicaragua. That would look more like this:

"Winter" -- Managua

Hammocks, heat, you can see that it might be preferable. But to get there, well, one has to Pay the Piper.

This is a simple process for me. Not an easy process, but simple. Make a pile of goods, lay out the passport, stuff everything in the faithful Deuter backpack. When the pile is empty, I'm ready. But the twenty hours of transit, that is a different animal. As a veteran of many a long flight day, I have a few tricks. The first is to forget about relative time. The second is to adjust my brain rheostat to "Kid" setting. This helps a great deal. Being fascinated with the smallest detail makes the long hours on planes bearable. What IS this food? What is that little girl doing? What does this button do? You get the idea. Dwelling on the destination only serves to prolong the discomfort.  

Wien to Amsterdam, Amsterdam to Houston, Houston to Managua. A series of checkpoints along the course of the long day. Check bag, find gate, wait. Board the plane, wait. Quick transfer in Amsterdam, just make it, my name called at the gate. Not good. Extra passport check because I am a US citizen transiting through the US without stopping. Red Flag. Problem solved. Board the big plane, wait. Little kid in the row ahead, red alert. She turns out to be the flying angel champion of the world. Yay! Cute kid to play with, distraction. Surrounded by Dutchies, 25 young women on a youth group to Nicaragua. Laughing and giggling. Great! More distraction. Houston, US Customs, no problem. Four-hour layover, a great time to have a cigar and, as it turns out, a fascinating conversation with a Czech national who lives in Canada. Being involved in the process makes the process more palatable.

Houston -- Cigar Time Layover

So it goes. The magic is in the last flight. All the connections have worked, I am on the last flight of the day, and the next stop is The Destination. Thus it is the hardest flight. Landing in Managua, the interminable passport control at Augusto Sandino airport. One hour in line, feet aching. Finally the blast of heat as I step into the New World. There is the young Nica guy with my name on a placard. The last vehicle transfer of the day, thankfully complete, and I am in my hotel compound on a tiny backstreet of Managua. I am vibrating from the travel, in the zone of sleep deprivation and wired excitement. Sleep is not an immediate possibility. 

I sit in the heat and dark of a Managua night. The fridge yields orange soda which, when combined with a cigar, tastes like a Creamsicle with fangs. A poor choice on a normal day, but fascinating tonight. As the edges finally soften, sleep creeps up. Another epic travel day to add to the collection. They are long days, and hard, but the Piper demands his cut of the trip. I pay him gladly.