Articles tagged with national-parks:
In which I learn that, although twenty-five feet doesn’t sound high, when you’re getting ready to jump off of it, is IS – and that even if you’re jumping into water, when jumping from twenty-five feet up, it hurts when you land. It really, really hurts.
I’m in the back of a taxi speeding down a Managuan highway, spatters of rain smearing the windows, making the crumbling concrete, rusted metal-roofed buildings beyond dance and distort. We pass a horse-drawn cart moving slowly in the opposite direction, a cow improbably grazing on a highway median, but mostly this outer ring of the city is gas stations and garbage, motorcycles and seedy bars where I might take my life in my hands if I were to enter, though I yearn to do so nonetheless. Though my driver, a pleasant man named Luis, is bilingual I am silent, absorbing it all. This, I tell myself, is Nicaragua. I’ve been here one day. I’m already in love with it.
Ok, so I’m still on my annual swing out west and thus do not currently have the time to pen a beautifully eloquent, deeply moving ode to Wyoming. That will come later, after I’ve made it home and slept for four days straight. In the meantime, here’s are the durn reasons why I cried like a little girl as my plane lifted off from Jackson Hole…