a 180 in my brown bag skirt

The time has come for me to turn around: the Panama canal was my cue, the green light on the cash machine has turned to yellow, and I feel home whispering in my bones.

The days of my Central American journey are numbered and as I head north my hours on the bus will provide me with ample time to bid farewell to the places that have filled my soul with an energy that smells like sweat, tastes like pineapple, and sounds like the wind (in La Palma, El Salvador - in case it´s not quite clear which type of wind the energy in my soul reminds me of).