anytime I mention going anywhere, we were either walking or running- the former, for the most part) from the leeward side of the island to the windward side, about a 10 minute walk. We found a place to camp in a very busy part of the beach where the cheapest cabañas were, and therefore the most backpackers. As soon as we started talking to some of the backpackers we had met, we were immediately glad that we had lugged our tent, some food, our water filter, machete, and camping stove because it turns out that everything on the island was much more expensive than we (and other backpackers) had expected. We camped at Grace´s Place and enjoyed a little bit of social life, good weather, great coconuts, sunrises, clear water, card games, reading, journaling and long walks on the beach. Our life rocks!On one of our long walks on the beach, we found a sweet place to camp on a corner of the island where nobody was staying, and from the beach there you could see both the sunrise and the
sunset, tell me how you can beat that! The place was called Casa Sunrise, the owner wasn´t around but the caretaker, Emilio, was there and over the next week we got to know him quite well. He was from Big Corn Island and was very Caribbean and very cool. We also made some friends, Brent and Emily, that were staying at the place next to us who just happened to be from Park City, Utah and we connected with them really well. That night, we celebrated by cooking dinner over a fire on the beach with our new found friends, staring up at the stars, listening to Emilio sing ¨My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean¨ and laughing at his seemingly endless sayings and stories. We all enjoyed it so much that it became a nightly event for the remainder of our time on Little Corn and quite possibly one of our favorite memories.
sunset, tell me how you can beat that! The place was called Casa Sunrise, the owner wasn´t around but the caretaker, Emilio, was there and over the next week we got to know him quite well. He was from Big Corn Island and was very Caribbean and very cool. We also made some friends, Brent and Emily, that were staying at the place next to us who just happened to be from Park City, Utah and we connected with them really well. That night, we celebrated by cooking dinner over a fire on the beach with our new found friends, staring up at the stars, listening to Emilio sing ¨My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean¨ and laughing at his seemingly endless sayings and stories. We all enjoyed it so much that it became a nightly event for the remainder of our time on Little Corn and quite possibly one of our favorite memories.One of our other favorite past times during our two weeks there was walking into town for some fresh coco bread or pan de coco. Coco bread looks like a hoagie but is sweet and is cooked with coconut flour. We found about four places on the island that sell coco bread and we sampled them all. Our favorite coco bread was made by a lady next to the school and Panchito, our favorite domestic spider monkey on the island. We remained faithful to her coco-bread for the
rest of our time there. We would try arrive at her house between 3 and 4 in the afternoon, right when she was taking the bread out of the oven (you know, carribean time). We would take our bread and sit in front of Panchito who, unfortunately, was on a leash but friendly, especially when approached alone. We would give him little pieces of bread, watch him swing and jump around on his tree branches and ropes and when I was alone (and lucky) he would hold my hand (either with his foot, hand or tail) and hang on my arm. I could sit and watch him for hours, but Leah was generally over it after 15 minutes or so.The island also happened to be a tropical paradise where fruit grew without needing cultivation, even in the tail end of the dry season. We were told that during the wet season the place is full of even more fruit! While we were there the most plentiful fruit was mangoes. We couldn´t walk from town to our end of the island (about a 30 minute walk) without stepping on at least 3 mangoes. They were littered everywhere. Due to the plentitude of mangoes we discovered a couple of things: 1) there are at least 7 different types of mangoes on the island, and 2) I just might be allergic to one or more of them.
One morning after we had eaten our breakfast of some bread that the local cat had gnawed on (we took off the bits where we thought her saliva was), Aunty Rich mangoes (which we had been eating) and something new, Sugar mangoes. I went to lie in the tent to have a rest but was too hot, so I went to lie in some shade and was still too hot, then I tried the hammock, STILL too hot. Meanwhile, Leah asked me, ¨Have you been crying?,¨because apparently I looked a little pink and puffy in my face. Didn´t think anything of it though. I then realized that I was starting to really itch everywhere, especially in the locations of my lymph nodes. DING DING DING!!! Bells went off in my head. Leah had experienced something very similar to this just about one year ago and it was an allergic reaction. Now, for those of you who don´t know Leah she tends to be a bit of a hypochondriac (being a nurse and knowing symptoms for tons of diseases doesn´t help her out much). And not only does she always wonder if she´s sick, she does it with me too, driving me crazy at times. Knowing this, I approached the matter delicately, ¨Leah, now don´t freak out, but I think I´m having an allergic reaction,¨ I told her. She looked up from filtering water, took one look at me and went into hyperaction-nurse mode. The whole situation may not have been too threatening had we been in a city, but we were at least a 25 minute run from the local health center, a 30 minute boat ride to Big Corn Island and then a 30 minute flight to Bluefields which is where the nearest hospital was (and getting these modes of transportation lined up to coincide quickly one after the other is impossible). She said my face was swollen and deep pink, I had hives all over, bloody scratches where I had been scratching my armpits incessantly, and worst of all a thick bumpy tongue. I guess it would have been obvious to anyone with a mirror that something was wrong.
She shoved two Benadryl down my throat, threw me my shirt and said, "Run to the clinic!" I headed off down the path with her close on my heels after locking the tent and she called me to
stop. She caught up to me, took a quick look and shoved another Benadryl down my throat. She had the Epinephryn Pen in hand and really looked like she wanted to use it. I told her that I would rather wait until I actually felt my airway being restricted. We then took off running for the clinic and I was soon out of sight of Leah. The whole time I was running I was thinking to myself a couple of things, "Damn, I'm glad we've been biking and I don't feel too winded to run," and second, "Its a good thing this island is pretty flat." About half way to the clinic I encountered Emilio, who had left for town on his bike only minutes before the action had started and I asked him to show me where the clinic was and that I needed to get there fast because I was having an allergic reaction. I'm pretty sure he didn't understand the gravity of the situation as he rode slowly on toward town (almost walking pace) and stopped to throw a couple of mangoes to Panchito. Without trying to push too hard I told him that I could run pretty fast and that he could speed up. It didn't change anything. Then at the dock he stopped and pointed in the direction of the clinic, farther down the path into town, I should have figured. After a total of about a 25 minute run I arrived to find the young nurse, Efra, who it turns out was just out of school, in the yard doing a bit of clean up. I told her what was happening and she took me in and sat me down.
"Do you think you could wait just a little while?" were the first words out of Efra's mouth when we got in the clinic. "I'm pretty sure that's not such a good idea," I told her. She explained to me that there was no doctor there right then and that he should be arriving on the boat from Big Corn Island soon. I think Efra must have seen the disparity in my eyes and taken notice to all the scratch marks all over my body and she got on the phone to call one of the doctors to find out what to do. Leah showed up while she was on the phone and took charge of my care. Between the two of them (after Leah explained that she was a nurse) and the doctor on the phone they laid me down, took my blood pressure and pulse, got out an IV, found the correct steroids and prepared to stick me. Now, ever since Leah had been in nursing school she has always commented on my veins and asked me if she can practice starting an IV in me. I'm not really one that is keen on having track marks on my arms so I always denied her the privilege. As Leah was drawing up the hydrocortisone, Efra got the needle out of the package (thank God) and Leah said, "Do you want me to do that?" in the Leah tone that means, "Can I do that?" Efra replied, "No, I can do it," in a tone that sounded like, "No, I want to do it." I could see the look of disappointment in Leah's eyes and Efra went to work (without gloves and with alcohol only after Leah requested her to use some) getting my vein in one try. They pumped me full of steroids and by this time I was feeling pretty groggy from all the Benadryl. After all the action was over and Leah said I looked MUCH better than when she had given me the third Benadryl, the doctor showed up. He listened to my lungs and heart and played with his tuning fork for no apparent reason. He decided that I looked ok and that all there was to do now was to rub calamine lotion over my body and wait. No one would have checked my blood pressure or pulses throughout the entire time if Leah hadn´t been there, a little different than in the States. We left the clinic a little while later without having to pay a cent and headed for some coco-bread and to sit in front of Panchito for a bit (we really liked doing that if you can´t tell by now).
One day we decide that some "ron don" sounded pretty tasty. Ron don (actually "run down" said with the local Corn Island accent) is a sort of Carribean stew made with coconut milk, Yucca (cassava - a potato-like root), plantains, carrots, conch meat and or fish (whichever you are able to "run down"). Leah, I, Emilio and Brent headed out as a squad to scour the local sea grass for conchs. After and hour or so of looking we had
found only three small conches and had just as many barracuda sightings, with one following Emilio for a bit salivating at the thought of some tasty man meat. The barracuda must of decided Emilio was too sinewy and turned away and kind of caused us to do the same. Our next approach was to send Brent out with the fishing pole and Leah and I to town to get the required veggies. We returned in time to watch Brent reeling in a good sized snapper. Just as he got it in front of him he saw the flash of a giant barracuda, a tug on the line, then only a slight dead weight. He pulled in one third of a shredded snapper and and had no more luck. That night we had very starchy ron don with extra plantains and yucca, each savoring a small piece of conch or fish. Emilio made sure that even if we couldn't finish our plantains that we drank the broth and doing more than his part to help finish off the pot telling us, "Better belly burst than good food go to waste." For the meat that was lacking from the ron don the company more than made up for and nobody went home with an empty belly or heart.
The remainder of our time on Little Corn Island was spent like you would probably expect time to be spent on s small tropical island: reading,
journaling, eating coconuts and other tropical fruits (minus mangoes), practicing my coconut opening skills, talking with locals, hanging out on the beach with Brent and Emily, circumnavigating the island by foot, swimming/snorkeling, watching sunsets and sunrises from the same place on the beach, playing cards, filtering water, making our meals and just enjoying island life. We left Little Corn Island with new found friends, a new soft spot in our hearts for Carribean culture and slightly better tans.
One morning after we had eaten our breakfast of some bread that the local cat had gnawed on (we took off the bits where we thought her saliva was), Aunty Rich mangoes (which we had been eating) and something new, Sugar mangoes. I went to lie in the tent to have a rest but was too hot, so I went to lie in some shade and was still too hot, then I tried the hammock, STILL too hot. Meanwhile, Leah asked me, ¨Have you been crying?,¨because apparently I looked a little pink and puffy in my face. Didn´t think anything of it though. I then realized that I was starting to really itch everywhere, especially in the locations of my lymph nodes. DING DING DING!!! Bells went off in my head. Leah had experienced something very similar to this just about one year ago and it was an allergic reaction. Now, for those of you who don´t know Leah she tends to be a bit of a hypochondriac (being a nurse and knowing symptoms for tons of diseases doesn´t help her out much). And not only does she always wonder if she´s sick, she does it with me too, driving me crazy at times. Knowing this, I approached the matter delicately, ¨Leah, now don´t freak out, but I think I´m having an allergic reaction,¨ I told her. She looked up from filtering water, took one look at me and went into hyperaction-nurse mode. The whole situation may not have been too threatening had we been in a city, but we were at least a 25 minute run from the local health center, a 30 minute boat ride to Big Corn Island and then a 30 minute flight to Bluefields which is where the nearest hospital was (and getting these modes of transportation lined up to coincide quickly one after the other is impossible). She said my face was swollen and deep pink, I had hives all over, bloody scratches where I had been scratching my armpits incessantly, and worst of all a thick bumpy tongue. I guess it would have been obvious to anyone with a mirror that something was wrong.
She shoved two Benadryl down my throat, threw me my shirt and said, "Run to the clinic!" I headed off down the path with her close on my heels after locking the tent and she called me to
stop. She caught up to me, took a quick look and shoved another Benadryl down my throat. She had the Epinephryn Pen in hand and really looked like she wanted to use it. I told her that I would rather wait until I actually felt my airway being restricted. We then took off running for the clinic and I was soon out of sight of Leah. The whole time I was running I was thinking to myself a couple of things, "Damn, I'm glad we've been biking and I don't feel too winded to run," and second, "Its a good thing this island is pretty flat." About half way to the clinic I encountered Emilio, who had left for town on his bike only minutes before the action had started and I asked him to show me where the clinic was and that I needed to get there fast because I was having an allergic reaction. I'm pretty sure he didn't understand the gravity of the situation as he rode slowly on toward town (almost walking pace) and stopped to throw a couple of mangoes to Panchito. Without trying to push too hard I told him that I could run pretty fast and that he could speed up. It didn't change anything. Then at the dock he stopped and pointed in the direction of the clinic, farther down the path into town, I should have figured. After a total of about a 25 minute run I arrived to find the young nurse, Efra, who it turns out was just out of school, in the yard doing a bit of clean up. I told her what was happening and she took me in and sat me down."Do you think you could wait just a little while?" were the first words out of Efra's mouth when we got in the clinic. "I'm pretty sure that's not such a good idea," I told her. She explained to me that there was no doctor there right then and that he should be arriving on the boat from Big Corn Island soon. I think Efra must have seen the disparity in my eyes and taken notice to all the scratch marks all over my body and she got on the phone to call one of the doctors to find out what to do. Leah showed up while she was on the phone and took charge of my care. Between the two of them (after Leah explained that she was a nurse) and the doctor on the phone they laid me down, took my blood pressure and pulse, got out an IV, found the correct steroids and prepared to stick me. Now, ever since Leah had been in nursing school she has always commented on my veins and asked me if she can practice starting an IV in me. I'm not really one that is keen on having track marks on my arms so I always denied her the privilege. As Leah was drawing up the hydrocortisone, Efra got the needle out of the package (thank God) and Leah said, "Do you want me to do that?" in the Leah tone that means, "Can I do that?" Efra replied, "No, I can do it," in a tone that sounded like, "No, I want to do it." I could see the look of disappointment in Leah's eyes and Efra went to work (without gloves and with alcohol only after Leah requested her to use some) getting my vein in one try. They pumped me full of steroids and by this time I was feeling pretty groggy from all the Benadryl. After all the action was over and Leah said I looked MUCH better than when she had given me the third Benadryl, the doctor showed up. He listened to my lungs and heart and played with his tuning fork for no apparent reason. He decided that I looked ok and that all there was to do now was to rub calamine lotion over my body and wait. No one would have checked my blood pressure or pulses throughout the entire time if Leah hadn´t been there, a little different than in the States. We left the clinic a little while later without having to pay a cent and headed for some coco-bread and to sit in front of Panchito for a bit (we really liked doing that if you can´t tell by now).
One day we decide that some "ron don" sounded pretty tasty. Ron don (actually "run down" said with the local Corn Island accent) is a sort of Carribean stew made with coconut milk, Yucca (cassava - a potato-like root), plantains, carrots, conch meat and or fish (whichever you are able to "run down"). Leah, I, Emilio and Brent headed out as a squad to scour the local sea grass for conchs. After and hour or so of looking we had
found only three small conches and had just as many barracuda sightings, with one following Emilio for a bit salivating at the thought of some tasty man meat. The barracuda must of decided Emilio was too sinewy and turned away and kind of caused us to do the same. Our next approach was to send Brent out with the fishing pole and Leah and I to town to get the required veggies. We returned in time to watch Brent reeling in a good sized snapper. Just as he got it in front of him he saw the flash of a giant barracuda, a tug on the line, then only a slight dead weight. He pulled in one third of a shredded snapper and and had no more luck. That night we had very starchy ron don with extra plantains and yucca, each savoring a small piece of conch or fish. Emilio made sure that even if we couldn't finish our plantains that we drank the broth and doing more than his part to help finish off the pot telling us, "Better belly burst than good food go to waste." For the meat that was lacking from the ron don the company more than made up for and nobody went home with an empty belly or heart.The remainder of our time on Little Corn Island was spent like you would probably expect time to be spent on s small tropical island: reading,
journaling, eating coconuts and other tropical fruits (minus mangoes), practicing my coconut opening skills, talking with locals, hanging out on the beach with Brent and Emily, circumnavigating the island by foot, swimming/snorkeling, watching sunsets and sunrises from the same place on the beach, playing cards, filtering water, making our meals and just enjoying island life. We left Little Corn Island with new found friends, a new soft spot in our hearts for Carribean culture and slightly better tans.
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