After a flight on a scarily outdated airplane, we arrived on the Big Corn Island and were shuffled over to the docks in very confusing terms. After trying spanish and english it seemed that hand gestures were best, and it wasn't till later we discovered that everyone on the Islands speaks this hybrid creole of Spanish English and possibly something else, which makes only every sixth word intelligible to the un-inducted souls like myself. We crammed a massive amount of people onto this tiny little speed boat, and each time we thought for sure we should be taking off soon (where else could someone sit?!) the next ferry arrived, and more people got on our boat. One of the locals pointed to the man next to us and exclaimed, "Do you see how fat that man is!?" as if this were the only explanation needed to tell the captain we were at capacity.
Up arrival at little Corn, we met Brendon, one of those come-for-a-week, stay-for-a-year gringos, who kindly showed us around the island (in almost complete darkness) and then to our room. Small and simple pretty much encompasses a description of the hut, but our porch was divine, with a beautiful view overlooking the beach and the most wonderfully refreshing ocean breeze.
The next three days consisted of a rather extreme form of nothingness. Laying on the beach and reading and embracing the nothingness. If I had to fabricate my dream island, down to the weather and the breeze and all, this would be pretty damn close.
The last day we went snorkeling, an activity through which I promptly discovered my extreme fear of drowning. Here's how it went: everything is okay, put my head underwater, tentatively inhale, body freaks out in total panic because there is now seawater in my lungs and stomach and nose and now im out of the water flailing most unattractively and how in the hell does snorkeling look like such a calm and tranquil activity?! After half an hour I mostly got the hang of it and the choking fits were significantly reduced in time and severity. I even saw some fish! and it was kinda cool. (but never , ever again.)
We shared a taxi back on Big Corn to the airport with a Salvadorian couple who so distinctly described the feeling of the car upon having to return, "somos tristes, todos."
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