Lisa Niver's Blog: We Said Go Travel, page 430

Vietnam: No Nhe Regrets

No Nhe Regrets – A short time in Mui Nhe

Even though this is a place that was a short stay, I believe my time Mui Nhe, Southern Vietnam, was well spent, I did what I wanted to do,  fulfilling them days and having no real regrets on doing more, or feeling the need to stay for any longer.

Mui Nhe is a beautiful little spot, something which isn’t a huge backpacker destination, however has lots of activities and things I enjoyed doing. The time I spent there was full of new and interesting things for me. From motorbike hopping to tasting crocodile for the first time.

I left a good friend of mine, whom I had been travelling with since Thailand, towards the end of September 2012. When I had reached Mui Nhe, it was the first week of November 2012. I managed to keep in touch with four Dutch friends who I had met previously, Alyssia, Jony, Marleen and Tess. We stayed at the same resort, sharing rooms. At times it got a bit double dutch, with all four of them exercising the chance and their right to speak their native tongue amongst one another. I had been partying for Halloween on sandy beaches in the more and more popular Nha Trang, about 5 hours north of Mui Nhe.

I researched doing some Yoga, going to visit the sand dunes, and see what this place had to offer. Mui Nhe has a lot of windsurfers, it’s a big destination for that, and although I would liked to have tried it for the first time, it was the only reason I would of for that reason, but the cost for my budget was too far out for something of just a pure curiosity rather than an interest. So for me, 2 nights, 3 days in Mui Nhe was perfect. Our resort was on the beach pretty much, so that’s where I started on day one. Drinking coconut shakes and watching the skills of the windsurfers. At night me and Marleen watched three shooting stars  in the sky, whilst talking about life, travelling and having them kind of conversations you have when you’re a backpacker. One which is full of freedom and ambition, happy people being open with each other, something I personally found liberating whilst backpacking, the conversations and socialising was great.

I introduced Yoga to the girls for the first time. We entered a bit late but got straight to it. I loved the dedication from the Russian teacher even though she was a bit arrogant. The class was a great one, probably the best class of Yoga I had done throughout SE Asia anyway. The people involved were a mixture, the guys it was their first time, which help make it a comfortable atmosphere. Yoga gave us an appetite.  Crocodile was for tea for me, having been drawn into the restaurant by it being on a spit right outside. I snacked on fresh seafood at some street stalls later in the night.

The next day we all took a trip out to to explore Mui Nhe via a tour guide, which we got to travel in a army like jeep. We walked through local habitats, rivers, rocks and sands. We met an ostrich, which was quite a upfront thing, they really do just stare at you! We headed to go quad biking on some beautiful curvey sandunes. I had only seen some similar in video games. We ended the day by heading to the Red Dunes for sunset, hiring a slay (or a piece of sheeted plastic) and attempted to sand board down the dunes. It had little effect, but the sunset was incredible, and I managed to get a photo of it with me just under the sun with some fellow backpacking friends. At the end of the night I managed to get on the back of my first motorbike, something I didn’t like as I’d like to be in control, in which was fine and I actually really enjoyed.

My time here was wisely spent, it wasnt my favourite, but for what it was, I got exactly what I wanted.  I had came, see and done what I had to do. Mui Nhe inspired me in that sense, and its probably somewhere I won’t go again because of my first and only visit there. It felt like I had loved and lost so quickly, almost as if to say, “ this is my station, I must now move on”.

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To Iceland, with Respect

And I have something to expiate;

A pettiness.

(D.H. Lawrence: Snake)

Often what we regret is being small-minded – trying to show the other person that we are right, better or best. That simply doesn’t work in Iceland provided you look up from your own path at what is all around you.

Iceland is one of only eight places on earth where the Mid-Atlantic Rift rises above the ocean – by far the biggest and most dramatic of these emergences. It also hosts visibly the collision of the American and European tectonic plates.

Stand at the ancient Althing (Law Rock, site of Iceland’s Parliament from 930 to 1799): at your back is America, towering in a sky-high rock wall marching to each horizon. In front of you is the bridge to Europe across a bottomless rift filled with the clearest water there is. This is the meeting of the Old and New Worlds: Chaucer meets Steinbeck, Bach meets Aaron Copeland, Marc Chagall meets Walt Disney. No room for small-mindedness.

As Iceland is volcanic, eruptions happen regularly and spectacularly. In April 2010, the massive ash cloud above Eyjafjatlajökull captured the world’s attention and caused thousands of flights to be cancelled. Travel further along the coast road and you will cross a three mile bridge over a lava spill which advanced like Sherman’s army, flattening all in its path. The twisted remains of a strong iron girder testify to its strength, as if a troll toddler had screwed up a grey crumpled paper napkin. An active lava flow just keeps on coming, even if you spray it with tons of seawater from a high-pressure hose borrowed from the US Marines, as they did in 1973 on Heimaey, one of the Westman Islands off the south coast, in an attempt to stop the advancing lava from closing the entrance to the island’s only harbour. In this case, the lava did stop in time and the island habitation was saved.

Vatnajökull (Glacier of Rivers) can be seen from afar. 8100 square kilometres in area and 3100 cubic kilometres, it is the largest icecap in Europe by volume. Smaller glaciers ooze off the top like icing dripping down the sides of a cake. But they are not sweet and delicious. Their menace lies in their unpredictable surfaces, their hidden crevasses, their jagged edges – and their deceptive size, dwarfing those who attempt a glacial walk. A sign erected by families and friends commemorates Mathias Hinz and Thomas Grundt from Germany, “Missing since 01.08.2007, Svinafellsjökull”.

The isolated road makes it way round to Jökullsarion, a glacial lagoon filled with floating icebergs: blue, white and black castles seem to jostle each other in the icy water. Some rear up in monstrous, frozen ecstasy, while others slumber dreamily, their quiet threat hidden below the flat surface. Carpe diem: these are miniatures of the Titanic’s nemesis, so marvel at this grandeur before you yourself hit an iceberg.

Wise use of time can mean relaxing in the moment, connecting with creation in its immensity and its variety. There is no need consciously to put yourself aside: Iceland will do that for you automatically. The influence of this scenic majesty lasts long after you have left the packed Keflavik airport departure hall with its blaring announcements and stuffy, person-tainted air. It outlives the journey, the homecoming, the welcome: “How was your holiday?” and the uncomprehending stares when you try to describe the earth’s forge in overworked phrases such as “amazing”, “awesome” and “seriously stunning”.

A visit to Iceland is an incomparable way to spend time wisely. The demons of everyday living and the nice people that surround you are simply irrelevant when you step into that other dimension governed by the greatest forces on this planet. You have provided for yourself, forever, a private powerhouse of energy, available to you at any time, a universe-sized antidote to the petty, the banal, the boringly mundane, and hurtful gossip. Just as a lava flow proceeds slowly but unstoppably, wiping out unwanted clashes and demands, so spending time in Iceland flattens everyday tensions and conflicts, rolling out majestic evidence of how our planet was formed in the beginning, and how it is sustained even through the ages of ages.

About the Author: After enjoying a career as a high school English teacher, I entered the world of publishing. I regularly write chapters of school textbooks, and I co-edited and wrote chapters of St George’s Cathedral: Heritage and Witness, published in November 2012. An inveterate traveller in nearly thirty countries, I remember especially vividly Malawi, Russia, Australia, Scotland and Iceland. Find me on facebook at Judith Gordon.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter  our next Travel Writing competition  and tell your story.

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Proceso de Lucha Insurreccional por la Liberación de Nicaragua

While in Nicaragua in November, George and Lisa met Marcelo at the Museum of the Revolution in Leon. We interviewed him and invited him to share stories of fighting as a youth for freedom. Here is his story in his own words. We hope to publish a translation soon and to have many more stories in multiple languages on our site.

Proceso de Lucha Insurreccional por la Liberación de Nicaragua.

Historia de la Toma del Comando de la Guardia Nacional (GN) del Municipio de la Mina Limón

 by Marcelo Leonel Pereira Ordoñez

La Mina del Limón es una comunidad del municipio de La Reynaga Malpaisillo del departamento de León, la Mina se encuentra ubicada en la parte Noreste del municipio de León, a unos 32 kilómetros de la ciudad de León, lugar que desde hace más de 60 años se ha venido explotando los yacimientos de Mina de Oro por empresas transnacionales, dejando solamente el sudor, sacrificio, hambre, explotación, miseria y muerte a los trabajadores de la mina.

A partir del proceso revolucionario, la mina en la década de los sesenta y setenta fue  un punto estratégico de la lucha sandinista a través de diferentes acciones, tomas de tierra, paros, huelga y manifestaciones en contra los principios de explotación de la empresa minera.

En la década de los setenta la lucha revolucionaria se agudiza y se manifiesta de manera más constante y se hace sentir la presencia del movimiento obrero organizado en sindicato, en organizaciones gremiales y políticas, tales como; Central de trabajadores, CTN, Partido Socialista Nicaragüense y el FSLN, es de esa forma que se hace sentir la presencia de la lucha revolucionaria obrera.

En ese sentido es importante mencionar que esta comunidad de la Mina de Limón, es un punto estratégico desde la perspectiva de la producción del Oro, además que era la presencia norteamericana y que el dictador Somoza, tenía que garantizar la seguridad tanto de los gringos presente en la parte administrativa como la producción de Oro, en vista que Somoza también era parte de ese negocio natural como era este material precioso, es así que en plena insurrección armada del pueblo nicaragüense, se plantea la ORGANIZACIÓN MILITAR DEL PUEBLO (OMP) brazo armado del Partido Socialista Nicaragüense, organización política militar encabezada por jóvenes de diferentes sectores de la sociedad leonesa específicamente, se plantea en mera insurrección de darle un golpe más a la dictadura planificando la Toma del Cuartel de Guardia Nacional, acción que llego a concretarse en unidad con la estructura del Estado Mayor del Frente Occidental Rigoberto López Pérez, encabezado por la Cmdte. Dora María Téllez, Cmdte. Leticia Herrera y muchos otros compañeros comandantes que dirigían la guerra en León por parte del FSLN, como también los miembros del estado mayor del Comando Rigoberto Palma Sandoval, estando formado por el Cmdte: Fernando Vargas. (Cmdte Ricardo), Cro. Dagoberto Pérez Montano (Político del Comando y qdep), Cmdte Oscar (Marcelo Pereira), jefe militar del Comando y otros compañeros más  tomaron la decisión de preparar una columna de combatientes formadas por veintiocho miembros.

La mina del Limón era un centro estratégico del punto de vista económico y político, se puede decir que es una de las minas de oro de mayor envergadura en américa central, la producción de Oro era significativa y las utilidades eran incalculables, el oro lo extraían  y luego lo procesaban maquila en caja de madera de Caoba, con alambres de acero con diámetro de 10 mm, con un sello de seguridad en el centro de la caja lo que formaba una estructura tipo trapecio con un peso de aproximadamente de 45 Kgs, con un alto costo en el mercado internacional.

Una vez coordinada la acción entre el estado mayor del frente occidental Rigoberto López Pérez y el Estado Mayor del Comando Rigoberto Palma Sandoval, se planifica la acción para la toma del comando de la Guardia, donde existían aproximadamente unos 30 guardias y una decena de paramilitares (orejas o sapos), personas que capturaban, denunciaban, torturaban y asesinaban a los jóvenes o a quienes ellos querían asesinar, viendo la necesidad de tomarse ese cuartel por las fuerzas revolucionarias conjunta, se procede a ejecutarse la acción la cual se plantea de la siguiente forma:

1.- Coordinación de ambos Estados mayores, donde participo en dicha reunión conjunta como responsable militar, donde el Cmdte. Oscar, (Marcelo Pereira) se le asigna la responsabilidad de controlar, dirigir y ejecutar el asalto al cuartel de la Mina del Limón.

2.- Los acuerdos son: que el Frente Occidental Rigoberto López Pérez (FORLP), Facilitaría 10 armas de calibre pesado (FAL, SUBAMETRALLADORA Y GARAND), Además participaría una escuadra de combatientes (10 compañeros).

3.- Los medios movilizativos (Camioneta de Tina), la facilitaría la OMP, además se integrarían 20 combatientes, lo cual así fue, la columna de combatientes se formó y tomo las orientaciones militares para la acción, saliendo en varias camionetas los combatientes del comando central Rigoberto Palma Sandoval, que se encontraba ubicado en la Colonia del Estadio hoy lleva el nombre de José de la Cruz Mena, el hombre leproso y del pentagrama de la música del Vals en Nicaragua.

4.- Una vez conformada y estructurada la columna guerrillera, a eso de las tres de la tarde del día sábado 16 de junio, se procedió a conformar la columna y se escogieron a los mejores hombres con alto espíritu y principio revolucionario, era casi las cuatro de la tarde, después de haber bajado las orientaciones políticas y militares, se abordan las camionetas y se inicia la marcha hacia el objetivo planteado la Mina del Limón.

5.- antes de llegar a la entrada del camino hacia la Mina, se pasó por el municipio de Telica, pueblo que está ubicado a unos 10 kilómetros de la ciudad de León, donde se tuvo un alto para seguir imprimiendo animo e entusiasmo y combatividad a los combatientes, en ese lapso de estadía un compañero llamado Mario, se le fue un disparo de una escopeta 12, hiriendo a dos o tres niños que jugaban en la calle y asombrado por vernos a todos armados, ante esa situación se procede llevar a los niños al hospital de León (Hospital Viejo) y además se manda al compañero que se le fue el tiro al comando militar donde habíamos salido, sancionándolo lo cual disminuyo la cantidad de combatientes, quedando integrada la columna por 28 combatientes, en vista que se queda el que disparo el tiro y conducto, ante esa situación se da la orden de proceder con la marcha hacia el objetivo planificado(Mina del Limón).

Durante este tiempo nos dan las 6 de la tarde el sol comienza a ocultarse y empieza a caer la noche, entramos al camino de tierra y se tiene que recorrer aproximadamente unos 10 a 12 kilómetros para llegar a la comunidad de la Mina de Limón, la marcha es lenta y con luces de los vehículos apagados con el mayor silencio y estrategia militar, todos íbamos con un gran espíritu de combatividad pero también con el recelo que la guardia nos detectara y nos hiciera una emboscada y de esa forma poder fracasar con la misión encomendada.

Gracias A Dios, se logró llegar o logramos a cercanos a unos dos kilómetros de la entrada de la comunidad de la Mina, entonces procedí a dar la orden de desembarcar de cada una de las camionetas y conformar una columna de marcha a píe con el fin de acercarnos lo más que pudiéramos al poblado, a eso de las once de la noche aproximadamente llegamos y empezamos a penetrar por el área donde estaba la pista de aterrizaje de los aviones que llegaban a recoger el Oro como también para reforzar los puntos estratégicos de la mina como del mismo cuartel de la guardia de Somoza, una vez avanzado y habiéndonos tomados una loma que se ubicaba precisamente frente al Cuartel de la Guardia, se procedió de manera silenciosa y estratégica a ubicar a los combatientes de forma que el frente de guerra fuera de diferentes ángulos lo cual esto traería desesperación de la guardia, la preocupación era que la noche avanzaba y la calle donde se encontraba el cuartel de la guardia se encontraba con niños jugando y por otro lado personas civiles en la acera del comando y su entorno, a todo esto se suma la latidera de los perros lo que nos preocupaba por que podíamos ser descubierto y la guardia podría tomar el avance en contra de la columna guerrillera.

Una vez ubicada toda la fuerza guerrillera, lista para romper los fuegos en contra de la guardia de Somoza, solamente esperaban la orden mía (Cmadte. Oscar), mejor dicho Marcelo Pereira, fue a eso de la tres de la madrugada del día domingo 17 de junio del 79, se rompe el asalto con la fusilería que teníamos y se lanza un cohete conocido como bastón chino, lo que significaba que el asalto había empezado, amaneció y los disparos por ambos bandos se oían con fuerza,  por la mañana se acerca un avión de la Fuerza Aérea Nicaragüense (FAN) de la guardia de Somoza, con refuerzo en vista que la guardia del cuartel se sentía hostigada y las bajas de muertos y heridos por parte de la guardia se hacía sentir dentro del cuartel lo que contribuía a desmoralizarse a la tropa de Somoza, el avión quería aterrizar en la pista, pero la fusilería guerrillera no permitió que el avión bajara con el refuerzo de guardias, ante esta situación un combatiente fue a montarse a un Tractor Caterpellar lo encendió y procedió a destruir la pista de aterrizaje abriendo zanjas por toda la pista lo que impidió que el avión aterrizara, esto obligo a que el avión se retira de la zona, dejando abandonado a los guardias del comando sin poderle ayudar, pasaron las horas y a eso de las una de la tarde, cuando nuestra fuerza tenía poca municiones logro integrar a un joven del pueblo a la lucha revolucionaria y que trabajaba en la propia Mina, este nos llevo hasta donde estaban las cajas de dinamitas que eran ocupadas para la extracción de material de la mina.

Era pasado las dos de la tarde, cuando se prepararon 15 paquetes de dinamitas con 6 candelas de dinamitas para ser explotadas en contra del comando de la guardia, una vez que teníamos los paquetes de dinamitas y lista para ser utilizadas, di la orientación de mandar a cuatro combatientes por diferentes puntos cardinales en relación a la ubicación del comando de la guardia para lanzar los paquetes de dinamitas que se habían preparado, lanzando la primera bomba mi persona Cmdte. Oscar, cayendo esa bomba en el centro del comando y seguido se lanzaron el resto de bombas (dinamitas), esto provoco la destrucción de la estructura del comando tanto de techo que salió por los aires, paredes de tabla etc., provocando esto un gran terror en la  guardia de Somoza, esta acción duro aproximadamente unas dos horas, lo que guardia empezó a sacar pañuelos blancos y salieron con los brazos en alto, en ese momento procedimos a acércanos al cuartel de la guardia y proceder a capturar a los guardias vivos, ya que en el interior del comando solo quedaba destrozo, fuego y muertos de guardias y paramilitares, algunos cuerpos destrozados producto a la acción de las bombas de dinamitas que fueron lanzadas por nuestra tropa.

A eso de las cuatro de la tarde del día domingo 17, la guardia de Somoza se había rendido ante la autoridad moral de los guerrilleros sandinista, se capturaron a unos 10 guardias entre ellos el jefe del cuartel el Tnete., de apellido Tijerino, procedente de la ciudad de León, quien vivía contiguo al comando de la guardia en la ciudad de León., todos fueron trasladados a las cárceles del pueblo donde se procedió a la investigaciones correspondiente y posterior a todo el proceso algunos fueron puesto en libertad una vez finalizada la insurrección final que logro dar con la derrota de la dictadura somocista.

Cuando se tuvo el control absoluto del comando y la población se procedió a buscar al gringo que administraba la Mina del Limón,  encontrándolo en el hotel del pueblo, se procedió a capturarlo y pedirle que entregara las barras de Oro o mejor dicho los lingotes de oro que pesaban 45 kgs, aproximadamente cada barra, el gringo entrega cuatro barras de oro y una cantidad de dinero en efectivo en diferentes denominaciones en moneda nacional y dólar, entrego el dinero y posteriormente lo recuperado fue trasladado en un camioneta que andaba mi persona Cmdte. Oscar, llegando al comando guerrillero en la ciudad de León entre las 6 y 7 de la noche del día 17 de junio, entregando el parte al jefe del estado mayor del Comando Rigoberto Palma Sandoval, Cro. Fernando Vargas, además se entregaron las cuatro barras de oro y el dinero recuperado.

Es importante mencionar que durante la toma del cuartel de la Mina del Limón, tuvimos tres bajas un compañero muerto y dos heridos, el compañero muerto fue producto al accionar de un franco tirador de la guardia que estaba ubicado en un árbol, pero lo más relevantes, fue cuando penetramos de manera definitiva al cuartel de la guardia encontramos a un guardia conocido como CINCO BOLLOS, que estaba herido y metido en un pozo tirador, queriendo hacer resistencia, pero fue imposible en vista que un compañero nuestro llamado Elías Carrero, que no se me olvida el nombre, lo encontró y empezó a pegarle tiro y no moría porque supuestamente tenía un pacto con Satanás, hasta que una señora de pueblo dijo, ese hombre anda una moneda en el ombligo tienen que quitársela para que muera, dicho hecho así fue, se le retiro la moneda y expiro, quedando tendido en el suelo, con más de treinta tiro en su cuerpo, era uno de los guardias más temidos y más malo que existía en el cuartel y en todo el pueblo de la Mina.

Posterior a la entrega del parte militar de la acción ejecutada en la Mina del Limón, se hizo la entrega de dos barras de oro a la Cmdte. Dora Ma. Téllez, jefa del Estado mayor occidental Rigoberto López Pérez, con esa acción se cumple con lo acordado entre los dos estados mayores, lo que significó un logro y avance en el proceso de consolidación de alianza estratégica militar para las futuras acciones militares, las dos barras de oro fueron entregadas posteriormente al triunfo de la revolución a altos dirigentes del FSLN, en aquel entonces a miembro de la dirección nacional, una vez finalizada la operación de la mina del limón nos integramos a lucha contra lugares estratégicos militares a como fue la toma final del Comando de la ciudad de León, la veintiuno que era un sitio donde torturaban, asesinaban a compañeros revolucionarios de la época de los sesenta y setenta y se finalizó con la acción de la toma del Fortín de Acosasco, siendo este el último reducto de la guardia de Somoza, esta fue desalojada el día 7 de julio, donde la guardia abandona su posición en el fortín, y escapan con rehenes que estaban presos desde ante del inicio de la insurrección, la guardia encabezada por el criminal Bulcano, Cmdte Evert, los esbirros Pablo Aguilera, Clicho y otros criminales de la dictadura de Somoza en la ciudad de León.

Es importante mencionar que durante la acción al cuartel de la guardia, después de haber finalizado la toma por parte de nuestra fuerza revolucionaria, se recuperaron más de 1500 cajas de dinamita, cajas de detonantes y mechas que ocupaban para hacer los derrumbes en la extracción del material para la materia prima del oro, todas las cajas fueron trasladadas hacia la ciudad de León, en bodegas o casas de la colonia del estadio, como también en el antiguo plantel de carretera o mejor dicho de obras públicas de Somoza, actualmente queda cuerpo de bomberos y comisariato de la policía nacional, además de estos dos sitios también se almacenaron parte de este producto recuperado en la casa Salud de Debayle, ubicada en la esquina Este del hospital Oscar Danilo Rosales de la ciudad universitaria.

La historia no termina ahí, porque una vez finalizada la toma del cuartel de la guardia la población se integra a tomar la administración de la comunidad y se forma una estructura militar con gente del pueblo para que ellos llevaran el control y seguridad de la población, se deja un mando bajo las ordenes de un compañero de apellido Torres, que posteriormente paso a formar parte de la estructura del Ministerio del Interior y de la policía sandinista.

Una vez finalizada la guerra, la mayoría de los compañeros miembros del comando Rigoberto Palma Sandoval, nos integramos a fundar y ser parte de la estructura militares, en este caso a mí persona me toco integrar  y fundar la Policía Sandinista, ubicándome inicialmente en la cárcel modelo del hoy entonces Sistema Penitenciario, posteriormente trasladado a estructura de la misma policía a Chinandega, luego a formar parte de una estructura especializada del ministerio del interior en la ciudad de León, de esa forma me fui desempeñando en diferentes estructuras y actualmente miembro de la Asociación de Combatientes Histórico Héroes de Veracruz, del Frente occidental Rigoberto López Pérez (FORPL), siendo expositor de la galería del museo de la revolución en la ciudad mil veces heroica de León.

De esa forma termina la verdadera historia de la toma del cuartel de la guardia de la Mina del Limón, como también la recuperación de las barras de oro y dinero efectivo, la captura de más de 10 guardias somocista que fueron procesados por la justicia revolucionaria pasando por un proceso de jurado encabezado por el doctor Oscar Danilo Pereira, juez del pueblo en ese momento, que termino con la resolución de culpabilidad por crímenes a la humanidad en contra del pueblo de Nicaragua. Es importante mencionar que dos barras de oro fueron escondidas en casa del Doctor Pereira López, y que posteriormente ahí fueron entregadas a las autoridades nacionales ya mencionadas. Se recuperaron más 1500 cajas de dinamitas con sus accesorios, se formó la estructura militar en el pueblo de la mina para que hicieran de ella el control y seguridad de la población, esta es la verdadera historia de la toma de la mina, otra es fantasía, se tuvieron tres bajas en la toma, entre ellos un muerto, un joven del pueblo de la Mina que se integró por la mañana del domingo 17 a la columna guerrillera, que en paz descanse y que dios de  la santa paz.

Ahora queridos compañeros, amigos, hermanos internacionalistas, quiero solicitarle su apoyo de manera solidaria de forma de una manera que ustedes se sientan tranquilo con su conciencia y con migo mismo, en ese sentido le solicito su apoyo económico que me lo pueden hacer llegar por la Wester Junior o bien por City Bank, dirigido al destinatario:

Sobre el Author: Marcelo Leonel Pereira Ordoñez, en la ciudad de León, Nicaragua, favor avisar cuando haiga puesto el dinero, mil gracias hermanos solidarios e internacionalista y revolucionario. PATRIA LIBRE O MORIR.

The post Proceso de Lucha Insurreccional por la Liberación de Nicaragua appeared first on We Said Go Travel.

Philippines: Inspiration in the Midst of a Natural Disaster

How I Found Inspiration in the Midst of a Natural Disaster

It was the deadliest earthquake in the Philippines in 23 years and it happened the day we boarded a plane in Seoul, unaware of the news that would greet us when we landed 4 hours later in the Philippines. It’s funny how inspiration can often be found in the darkest moments…

It’s not the first time I’ve stepped into a “disaster zone”. My home town of Toowoomba, Australia was hit by a flash flood in 2011 that left a trail of destruction that many still have not recovered from today. Arriving in Manila we discovered that our next destination, the island of Bohol, had been hit by a 7.2 magnitude earthquake.

Our plans changed slightly but we decided that we must still make the trip to Bohol. After a series of busses and ferries, with my heart in my throat, I stepped off the ferry in Bohol, not certain what to expect or what I would see.

Large cracks running along the pier were the first surprise. I’d never experienced an earthquake, or its effects first hand. The power of the earth below us had left a permanent scar as it had tried to rip a city apart.

During our time on the island we witnessed many more of the after effects of the natural disaster. Entire families living under tarps erected as a flimsy annex off the sides of their collapsed homes. People still travelling to church to stand outside the barricaded safety area to silently pray. In fact, 10 heritage listed churches were all reduced to rubble but this didn’t seem to deter the faith of the locals.

The main thing we witnessed was the unfaltering friendliness and kindness of the Filipino people. The Philippines is a country of astounding friendliness, beautiful beaches and breathtaking countryside.

Being an observer to the aftermath of a natural disaster makes you look inside yourself and ask the question “how would I have handled this?” You think about the materialistic things we take for granted everyday and wonder how life would be if you had very little money and possessions to start with and then, the little you had, was taken away from you, leaving you living under a tarp for shelter?

The resilience of people who have less than nothing is inspiring. It’s sad that it’s only really noticed or appreciated at times of disaster. The people of Bohol didn’t hesitate, they were straight into rebuilding! Roads, bridges and homes were being repaired left, right and centre. There’s no waiting to get insurance payouts here, as if most residents could afford insurance anyway, it’s a matter of finding materials and starting again.

Travel gives you a window on how others live their lives, often with so much less than I grew up with. Through travelling I’ve witnessed happiness, kindness and an amazing nature of giving from some of the poorest people in the world. People will invite you to dinner or buy you drinks even though they only earn $80 a month, a pay cheque most westerners wouldn’t even get out of bed for.

Travel is a beautiful, humbling experience and visiting Bohol after the earthquake was certainly a new perspective on just how tragic natural disasters can be. It opens your eyes to really appreciate what you have in life and to appreciate every moment and every opportunity, as the Dali Lama says: “There are only 2 days where nothing can be done. One is called yesterday and the other is called tomorrow, so today is the right day to love, believe and mostly live.”

Witnessing the destruction in person, it’s terrifying to think that if we’d booked our flight a few days earlier we may have been there when it struck. No matter what experiences befall you when travelling, it’s the journey and the unexpected events along the way that compel you to continue. You can’t regret the negative and saddening things that happen, we don’t live in a bubble, if we did, life would be boring.

Spend your time where you are, in the moment. There is no single perfect place to aim towards, only a path with twists and turns. The only regret would be if you stopped following the path and Bohol in the Philippines was an inspiration to keep following no matter where it leads.

About the Author:  Meagen Collins is chief editor of the Five Dollar Traveller and author of Budget Burma: A comprehensive budget travel guide for Myanmar. While digesting her frequent food babies, Megsy blogs about tasty bites, travel and whatever random topics pop into her head along the way! Follow Megsy on Facebook, Pinterest or Google+

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India: A Moment In Time

The sound of monkeys running over the rooftop of my hut. The slap of waves. I open my eyes, and lie for a while unmoving, cocooned in a web of gauzy mosquito netting.

What day is it? I don’t know anymore. It doesn’t matter. There is time. Time before I need to think about how to get to an airport and make my way back home.

But for now, there is no need to do anything.

I lift the netting, bend my upper body, swivel, and put my feet upon the white tiles. Pad in bare feet to the toilet.

I pour a bucket of water over my sticky body. Enjoy the sensation of rubbing myself dry with my stiff, sun-dried towel. Throw on a loose, light dress and step outside.

Cows stand passively in front of my hut. Every morning at dawn, a stick-thin, raison-skinned woman shouts “Ha! Ha!” and drives them down to the sea. She looks more elegant in her old red sari than the Queen of Denmark. Standing there, stick in one hand, other boney hand resting on her hip, draped in yards of folded, tucked fabric as the cows munch on the fallen leaves from the guava tree, and send unripe guavas rolling along the sand with their noses.

I walk along the still cool sand to the restaurant by the sea.

“Masala chai?” the waiter asks, having learned my preferences by now.

I smile and nod.

The scent of cardamom and ginger fill the languid air as the cook grinds the spices into the milky tea. Waves hit the boulder protruding from the sea and send splashes of rainbow spray. I open my book, sip my chai, stretch my legs, and breathe.

How much time has past? I’ve turned pages of my book, finished my tea. Women from the village have walked along the coastline balancing loads of provisions on their heads.

Is it really okay to do nothing, I wonder.

Western philosophy teaches us to be ‘human doings,” rather than human beings. The first thing people from the West always ask upon an introduction is: “So what do you do?”

The sun plays upon the crests of tiny waves. Millions of suns sparkling at once. A sea of suns.

And if someone asks ‘So what do you do?’ What will I tell them? “I watch waves, the way they swoop in with an edging of white lace foam, interweave, glazing the wet sand with a reflection of the sky. Then disappear with a ‘swoosh.’ Yes, that’s what I do. And you?”

The waiter in his Bob Marley t-shirt brings my chickpea, potato, coconut curry and chapatti. I eat with my right hand, Indian style. I’ve taught myself to rip apart a chapatti with one hand, enfold nuggets of spicy chickpea and potato and pop them into my mouth. I take pride in small achievements these days.

Maybe I’ll walk to town today. How long has it been since I’ve checked my email? Maybe I’ll buy some fresh fruit from the fruit stand and stroll through the narrow streets of the holy city.

But that can wait another day.

I order another masala chai. Sip it slowly. Savor the blend of spices. Listen to the ebb and flow of waves, stretch my legs and breathe. Today I will indulge in the magic of the moment. I think of the words of a Mary Oliver poem: I was a bride married to amazement, leave the restaurant, and start my morning stroll along the beach.

About the Author: 11 years ago, stifling sobs, Diane Caldwell boarded a plane to Greece. She hasn’t lived in the US since. She’s ridden a camel called “Bob Marley” across a corner of the Sahara, eaten ant-egg soup with betel-nut-chewing Thai’s, and shouted “Govinda!” with Hindu pilgrims. She currently lives in Istanbul where she dances with gypsies and writes about her adventures. Follow her wanderings.

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New Orleans: The City That Saved My Life

New Orleans is known for Mardi Gras, Jazz music and the tragedy that was Hurricane Katrina, but to me it means a whole lot more. I visited the city in 2009 and I fell in love instantly. I had always felt out of place my entire life, as if I didn’t really belong anywhere and then I found this city, the place that made me feel like I was at home for the first time in my life.

New Orleans is a beautiful city in every way. From the French Quarter to Audubon Park uptown, to Magazine Street in between, just riding the streetcar to see all the sights is a wonderful experience. Putting aside all places of interest the Crescent City has to offer, the most inspirational thing about New Orleans has to be the people that live there. You will be hard pushed to find a friendlier, more welcoming group of individuals. To them I was a stranger but that didn’t stop them from opening their arms to me.

I arrived in the city late one Saturday night and I was all alone. It wasn’t long before I was offered a place to stay by a couple I met on Frenchman Street and they weren’t the last. They were the kind of folks that made me feel safe and protected even though I was in a new place. Every day that I was there I made new friends: friends who took me on tours around the city, showing me brilliant things that I will never forget. I listened to the most breath-taking music and ate the most exquisite food, experiencing things I had never experienced before. New Orleans was the first place I had ever eaten sushi and the first time I sung karaoke!

I felt no fear when I was there and for the first time, I found myself being spontaneous. If you knew how highly organized I was before I went there, you would realize why this was such a big change for me. Before I visited the city I was broken inside, I was lost and the phrase “finding myself” meant nothing to me. Then I got on a plane and went to the other side of the world to the Big Easy, the place where I did in fact “find myself” and where I was put back together. It was the one period of my life where I was truly happy and I will never forget that.

The people of New Orleans touched me with their warm generosity and open hearts. I’m so thankful that I found a place where I could be myself and I was accepted for who I am. I hope these words can express my gratitude because they are all I have. The time I spent there changed me forever and one day I hope to go back there. I left my heart there but I know it will be taken care of, just like I was. There’s nowhere else I would rather spend my time. Thank you for saving my life, New Orleans.

About the Author: Maya Kaur is from England and her favorite things in life are writing, music and of course, travelling!! She has a music website and you can follow her on Twitter @MissMaya84.

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Ripped Off in Honolulu… by a Bird!

A moment ago an elegant Japanese lady and her daughter stopped by the

Honolulu zoo aviary and seated themselves on a wooden fence railing.

They paused there, enjoying the diversity of bird life.

Speaking to each other in rather hushed voices so as not to disturb the

inhabitants or the serenity of the environment, they settled-in to

observe these wonderful creatures. Both women were impeccably dressed, looking as if they had just come from Gucci’s salon. The young girl reached up and removed her gold-rimmed sunglasses and carefully placed them on the railing beside her.

The Hammercop had been watching these visions of oriental affluence with

the keen eye of a master thief. The sunglasses offered an irresistible target and, with a confidence born of experience, this winged outlaw swooped up, grabbed the sunglasses and headed for the nest.

The young lady, in total astonishment, started yelling for this arrogant

bird to return her glasses. At least I assume that’s what she was

saying. It could have been something a bit more graphic than that.

Since I do not speak Japanese I could only guess at the content of her

appeal.

About a minute had passed when the Hammercot re-appeared… sans sunglasses… and proceeded to squawk at the top of it’s ample voice, all

the time strutting back and forth in front of the two amazed women, as if to chide them for their silliness.

The ladies looked at each other in incredulous disbelief at the audacity

of this feathery felon, and then suddenly broke out laughing. Several

minutes later, after regaining their stoic Asian composure, they departed… taking with them a memorable story to tell their friends back

in Japan.

As for me… I am waiting to see a fledgling Hammercop decked out in his

new gold-rimmed sunglasses.

About the Author: (c)Thom Reece lived for 26 years in Hawaii and has written many observations about his visits to the remarkable aviary at the Honolulu zoo. He posts regularly to his FaceBook page.

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Cambodia’s Temples Captured in Time

Cambodia’s temples captured in time and engulfed by nature

Stepping amongst the rubble of the blackened stone structure, choked by creeping vines, it is hard not to sense the magic that clings heavy in the humid air. A secret garden of overgrown trees that hide mystical treasures of carved stone, secret paths and opening canopies. This enchanting jungle whispers 100 years of Cambodian Khmer history, captured in stone but now strangled by nature. Reflective of the country’s time in violent and bloody battle, in the temples of Angkor, the battle continues. The once grand human structures are losing to nature’s force as trees and vines swallow up the crumbled remnants of these temples. Nature is taking back its space.

Just moments outside of Cambodia’s Siem Reap hides nearly 100 temples amongst 400 km squared of lush entangled jungle. Built during the height of power for the Khmer civilisation, these temples of Angkor were well advanced for the time. Despite the sheer magnitude of these structures, the collapse of the Khmer civilisation brought abandonment to the temples of Angkor. They were lost in time, forgotten and left for the jungle to devour.

Described by the locals as the ‘temples built by gods’, Angkor’s temples were re-discovered in 1860. As word spread of this lost city of a Cambodian empire, people became curious to see for themselves and in 1992 it was declared a UNESCO World Heritage site.

Considered the biggest temple complex in the world, exploring these temples today will cost you USD$20 for a Day Entrance pass. There are specialised tours with a guide, however, you can just as easily pick up a local Tuk-tuk driver for around USD$15 for the day. While you can do a shorter circuit of the main temples in one day, it is recommended to take at least three days to really discover the majority of the temples in the area.

Angkor Wat is the most recognised temple and considered the biggest Asian pyramid. Its several layers tower 65 metres high at its most central point, which resembles the shape of a lotus flower. Angkor Wat’s sheer size is breathtaking, defined by intricate decorations of heavenly nymphs, the Battle of Kurukshetra, the Army of Suryavarman II, Heaven and Hell, Churning of the Ocean of Milk, Elephant Gate, Vishnu Conquers the Demons, Khrisna and the demon King, Battle of the Gods and the Demons and the Battle of Lanka.

Exploring the other temples in the area begins with the magical sun-kissed Bayon Temple, depicting the everyday life scene of Cambodia in the XII century.

The charm of nearby Ta Prohm temple is you do not know where nature ends and the man-made structure starts. It is probably the most contained of the larger temples.

Aptly named Elephant Terrace, the next temple sits at the end of a 350 meter long terrace of elephant statues. Once used as a giant viewing stand during royal and public ceremonies, this temple still holds a magic that captures the imagination of such an event.

Quite far from the rest, Banteay Srei temple is worthy of the travel to visit. This well-preserved temple displays declarations of delicate women carrying lotus flowers, and epic scenes of traditional Khmer life etched into the temple walls.

Wandering through these temples ruins brings a sense of reflection on the country’s history and struggles over time. Tired, tormented rubble of a once magnificent structure lays broken and destroyed. Yet, amongst this destruction, springs new life. Green leafy vines intertwine and reach from nooks and crannies to seek the sunlight. Just like these seedlings, Cambodia rose from tortured past to spring new hope and inspire those living there, or those just passing through, that time brings a rebirth of a new life.

About the Author: Kate Webster-Verberne is a travel writer and photographer who travels the globe in search of vivid imagery and compelling stories that capture the essence of the places she visits. Born out of a life-long love of travel and fascination with the world around her, is Kate’s inspiration behind her writing and photography.

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Tanzania: Through the looking glass

Through the Looking Glass

We sat under the shadow of a nearby Acacia tree at the corner of the orphanage to hide from the sweltering sun. The little girl beside me shielded her eyes with her dusty hands as the fierce rays intermittently broke through the leaves. We stayed on the red clay earth for two hours while she struggled to open her eyes until it was time to carry her inside. Her name was Agnus. She was the newest addition to the orphanage and I had been assigned to stay at her side because until today she refused to open her eyes. No one knew her story.

I met Agnus when I was a volunteer at Glorious Orphanage in Arusha, Tanzania. My duty was to teach and oversee the care of the 63 children at the orphanage. In the evenings, I took children to the hospital located in the nearby city to receive care for problems ranging from HIV to malaria. These hospital trips allowed me to connect with my students on an individual basis, and became the glue that solidified my desire to pursue a career in medicine. For most of the students, I felt as though I could offer a concrete service that directly contributed to their health. With Agnus, however, I felt uneasy and powerless. It was clear she had been through a profoundly life-changing experience and needed help working through it, but I didn’t know where to begin or what I could do to.

I thought back to a doctor I shadowed in India who thought carefully and holistically about his patients’ needs. A year before my trip to Tanzania, I had the opportunity to shadow an orthopedic surgeon in my family’s hometown of Nadiad, India. It was here, in a cramped operating room lit only by sunlight and equipped with the bare essentials, where I learned that great physicians need not only physical tools, but emotional tools as well. I witnessed the doctor piece together the shattered femur of a factory worker whose leg had been crushed. In spite of the pain he felt, the man smiled as he was wheeled into the operating room; he was thankful to the doctor. The doctor himself had arranged for the man to come to the OR that day. He helped him free of charge because he believed his patient had the resolve to recover. Three days later, the man dropped his cane and took five shaky steps. I was amazed. The man was determined to walk and through his will he did just that.

The possibility of being able to impact someone’s life, like the doctor in India, is what excites me most about becoming a physician. This physician looked through the man’s eyes and understood that his patient could lose the use of his leg and his livelihood if the surgery was not conducted. Through this trip, I realized how much impact a physician can have on the lives of his patients. A physician’s duty is not only to serve his patients, but also to understand his patient’s perspective.

This desire to help people, like the man in India, who live in remote parts of the world is what brought me to Glorious Orphanage. For Agnus to be examined by a doctor, I walked an hour to the hospital with her on my hip. During her exam, the physician began asking her a series of questions in Swahili. As we waited for the blood work, the physician pulled me to the side and whispered, “The child is not blind.” Agnus’ symptoms stemmed from the emotional trauma of enduring physical and sexual abuse by her parents who abandoned her in an empty warehouse. The problem wasn’t that she couldn’t see, the problem was that she didn’t want to.

That afternoon as we walked back to the orphanage, Agnus and her story weighed heavily on my mind. I thought back to what the physician in India would have done. I had worked hard to build a rapport with Angus, to build trust and establish an environment that she would know was safe. I was thrilled to be there that afternoon under the acacia tree when she first started opening her eyes to the sky, to the trees, and to the world she had disconnected herself from. As she opened her eyes, I too was beginning to see medicine through a different perspective: sometimes the greatest contribution to a person’s health is the effort to understand their struggle, and the relationship that develops in the process.

About the Author: My name is Naiya Patel and I am a first year medical student at UT Southwestern medical school in Dallas, Tx. My passions in medicine are very global health geared.

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Rice Terraces Of the Philippine Cordilleras

Rice Terraces of the Philippine Cordilleras: Understanding the Complexity One Step at a Time (Part 1)

It was only last year (I hate to admit this!) that I finally came face to face with the Philippines’ world-renowned rice terraces. I can only think of few places I have been so far that are as picturesque and awe-inspiring as the Rice Terraces of the Philippine Cordilleras – they breathe the history of the Ifugao. The incredible mixture of purely man-made terraces, the mountains, the muyongs, traditional hamlets, and other visible cultural artefacts in the region certainly does not disappoint.

Batad Rice Terraces during post-harvest season as seen from the top. Photo: Patrick Duvanel

Ticking off this world heritage site can be very tricky. There are a lot of rice terraces in the Ifugao province. Though all are declared National Cultural Treasures under the all-encompassing title of Ifugao Rice Terraces, there are only five specific clusters that are inscribed as World Heritage Sites in 1995. These are the Batad, Bangaan, Mayoyao, Nagacadan, and Hungduan. These select rice terraces were able to pass UNESCO’s strict requirements due to the “well-preserved blending of the physical, socio-cultural, economic, religious, and political environment” in creating an exemplary evolved, living cultural landscape.

One misconception Filipinos have (and I’ve seen this perpetuated a lot in social media and networking platforms) is the generalized and erroneous notion that the Banaue Rice Terraces in the town proper is a World Heritage Site (WHS). Sadly, it is not! This is even made worse by Banco Sentral ng Pilipinas wrongfully citing the Banaue Rice Terraces as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in the current 20-peso bill.

Most Filipinos are familiar with the Banaue Rice Terraces. This cluster, however, is not a WHS.

Spending a weekend in Banaue with family and some friends, I was able to visit Batad and Bangaan in a day. As these two rice terraces clusters are along the same route, maximizing the opportunity to see both then became more of an undeniable obligation than being merely a right.

How big are the terraces again? Some are as high as 10-feet tall.

The Batad Rice Terraces, the smallest among the five clusters, appear to be the most popular with its amphitheatre-like appearance. Given its steepness, it virtually looks like a horizontally-lined cliff from a far. Some of Batad’s terraces are even stone-walled to prevent erosion and landslides. A larger exponent of this dry stone walling technique can be seen in the Hungduan Rice Terraces, the largest of the five clusters. The oldest of these walls in Hungduan are dated to be from 650AD, making them the oldest stone structure across the archipelago.

How about waking up everyday to this view?

The practice of rice terracing is not exactly unique to the Philippines. Just this year, the Hanni Rice Terraces in Southern China, for example, have also been designated as a WHS. Nevertheless, the unparalleled features that make the Ifugao Rice Terraces stand out are their altitude (reaching as high as 1,500 metres from the base) and steepness (at 70 degrees maximum angulation). More so, these rice terraces are the oldest and largest continually used rice terraces in the world. The American Society of Civil Engineers named the Ifugao Rice Terraces as a Historic Engineering Landmark for water supply and control. In 1997, the same group came to the Philippines and formally declared (through a marker) the rice terraces as the 8th Wonder of the World (Thanks to former Tourism Secretary Mina Gabor for sharing to me this information).

Bangaan, on the other hand, is recognized for having the best preserved rice terraces cluster that “backdrops a typical Ifugao traditional village”. Indeed, the most noticeable component of Bangaan would be the intact central hamlet. Instead of stones, the walls of Bangaan Rice Terraces are made of mud. As much as Batad is unanimously being praised as the best, I actually found Bangaan to possess a better character; the experience, more authentic. I guess this impression stems from the fact that this rice terraces cluster is much more colorful with its varying shades of green and brown, together with the silvery reflections of its water-fed paddies – a phenomenon of natural beauty that I never saw in other clusters.

The colors of the fields of Bangaan Rice Terraces

The agricultural complex of the rice terraces is an ingenious work of art that allows sufficient irrigation to the terraced pond fields, and water storage method in an elaborate farming system. A unique irrigation network of earthen dikes, sluizes, cannals, and bamboo pipes keeps the terraces adequately flooded. The humble muyongs (forest caps) that act as the main watersheds for the rice terraces are strictly protected areas as well. This culture of farming has been recognized by the Food and Agriculture Organization as an outstanding example of “worldwide, specific agricultural systems and landscapes (that) have been created, shaped and maintained by generations of farmers and herders based on diverse natural resources, using locally adapted management practices” and thereby declared the entire Ifugao Rice Terraces as a pilot for the Globally Important Agricultural Heritage Systems (GIAHS) in 2002.

Slow food and goods mobility largely describes the rice terraces communities as well. Goods must be hand-carried from the nearest markets to the Batad village. It takes around 2 hours to do this. This guy is carrying a live pig. Gotta be macho :)

To be continued in Rice Terraces of the Philippine Cordilleras: Understanding the Complexity One Step at a Time (Part 2)

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