One year later, the second entry in my blog! What a momentous event! It seems I am only moved to write when I leave los Estados Jodidos. If that be the case, we can only hope I get this job I've applied for on Ometepe, Nicaragua.

This is my third voyage to the illustrious republic of Nicaragua. This time, I've returned as the coordinator of a delegation of naturopathic students. Mere moments after my own graduation as a naturopathic physician and the wretched endurance test of board exams, I have recklessly brought eight more First-Worlders to experience life in the poorest corners of Central America. Somehow I talked these ordinarily sensible individuals into joining me in the land of malaria- and dengue-laden mosquitoes, earthquakes, hurricanes, revolutions, counter-revolutions, and assorted other catastrophes that happen every day and thus don't make the news. And they paid me for the privilege! Incredible. Not to mention daily annoyances like the food, the heat, the air pollution, and the blackouts. (More on those later.)

Our first week saw the group learning Spanish in Esteli, a relatively cool Northern city, and meeting with local natural-medicine groups and midwives. The week culminated with our first meeting with the director of all the community health centers in the state of Esteli, who invited all of us to return and work in the public clinics of "Esteli, pedacito de amor" (Esteli, little piece of love) as a local songwriter christened it. Then with a rattling ride in the back of a pickup truck we high-tailed it out to Miraflor, the campesino cooperative and ecological reserve outside of town. We trekked through the mists to the different ecosystems within the reserve and learned the strange story of "exotic coffee." I strongly suspected at the time of the tour that the guide had made up the entire yarn, but I Googled it and it's real: animals eat the coffee cherries, digest them and shit out the beans. The beans are later laboriously hand-collected from the droppings, cleaned, roasted, and presto! According to our guide, a cup can go for $30 in Los Angeles. Lest you be confused, they don't produce exotic coffee at Miraflor - just plain old arabica from the tree to your cup, all 100% organic and damn tasty on a foggy Mirafloreño morning.

Our second week found us on the road to the ferry dock to cross Lake Nicaragua to the island of Ometepe. Unfortunately, we ran smack dab into a concentración of the Liberal Party in Sebaco. We wanted to shoot ourselves as we dragged forward, one inch at a time, through a sea of red shirts bearing insciptions like "Arnoldo vuelve" (Arnoldo returns, referring to the hoped-for pardon of Nicaragua's last president, Arnoldo Aleman, who's in prison for embezzling most of the nation's public treasury). It was way too hot and we never caught a glimpse of Rizo, the candidate, but that night when we shuffled into Rivas to the fleabag hotel we chose due to missing the last ferry, we got to watch it on the news: a few empty phrases, 9000 people in red t-shirts with flags, and a couple young girls shaking their asses to a reggaeton number.

The election's coming up in November, and its shadow hangs over Nicaragua. There are five candidates. Two are Liberal - Rizo's competition is Eduardo Montealegre, a banker who is the United States government's anointed successor to the current jefe, Enrique Bolaños (who was the vice president and Minister of Ethics while Aleman was looting everything that wasn't tied down, which pretty much tells you everything you need to know). Rizo is the old-line Liberal Party, the successor of Aleman. Then there are two Sandinista candidates.... (to be continued)