The Siren's Code

The PermaCycle Project

Waiting for the early morning ferry was an exercise in, well waiting. By the time it had waited for god knows what to be loaded on, it would be some hours later than the six am advertised, but Cassie had been in Central America long enough to be prepared for that. And to be honest, sitting on the quay of a small port watching 'real' life go by was an endless source of wonder, and amusement at times. Six am is an undiscovered time of day, the sun just up, still cool but taking the haze away with her as she rises into the sky. The smell of last night's stoves still lingering in the air from the makeshift houses along the road. Honking of horns setting off a domino effect of dogs, each with a different bark protecting their patch as the cars and vans pass on their way to the port. Having found her boat, bought her ticket, and with wild hand gestures, been directed to the waiting area for this particular small vessel, she sat down on her backpack to survey the scene, pleased she was wearing her fluffy boots as there was a chill in the air.

Vans with decals and holos pimping their brand from every type of shop delivering their clients' orders to each ferry. Circling around these, small trolleys and bicycles weighed down with varying degrees of unhealthy snacks to feed the drivers and passengers. A whole ecosystem symbiotically existing off the trade of getting goods to the island dwellers off this coast. Cassie bought a coffee from a seller in a single use ComCup®. She was pleased to see the turbo composting material had made it to Nicaragua, it wasn't used in Mexico yet, as widely as it should be, there was no excuse, the manufacture cost was less than paper and the compost time was two days. She sipped the sweet liquid accompanied by smoke wafting over from a huddle of backpackers nearby – somehow not a bad smell in this environment, her tummy started to growl but it would just have to wait.

Cassie pulled her phad out of her pocket and took some artistic shots capturing the vibe from her perch on her rucksack – the fisherman just coming in, a queue of locals jostling to get the best catch, she flicked off odour-mode not wanting to save that fishy smell. A flower seller with the most exquisite and enormous selection of tropical floral stems took her attention, hot fiery colours shooting out from the green leaves. This was for no ordinally flower arrangement, the vase would have to be at least three feet tall to not topple over as the first stem went in – very elegant, she thought, must be for that grand hotel she'd read about, or some very rich person's lobby. Oh fuck, she'd forgotten to turn odour-mode back on. Shouting brought her focus back to the boat which had considerably filled up not just with 'stuff' but people too, she sprung up swinging her pack onto her back and moved down the ramp to join them.

The passengers on the boat were a mix of locals and backpackers heading to the smattering of hotels and hostels on Isla de Blanca, Cassie had done a bit of research on where she was going. A six star eco retreat at one end, backpacker stuff at the other, a small town wrapped around the harbour which looked quite fun in a low key way and then some more communities dotted along the shoreline.

It seemed, from the relatively old lonely planet guide she had QR'd in the Lost Tortoise, or Turtle or whatever it was called, that this was fast becoming the worst kept secret. A chilled eco-vibe keeping the simple shanti way of life, no concrete high rises being built at an alarming rate, but a thriving local scene supporting a unique mix of high end celebs adding to the draw of low end backpackers hoping they may get a selfie-shot to snap their friends. Although looking around the boat at her fellow passengers she decided that perhaps by the very nature that they had the means and the time to travel in this manner, they were not that low end.

Further idle link clicking had uncovered articles complimenting the innovative community committed to the PermaCycle Project, a new sustainable futures way of life she had heard talked about back in London, as well as opportunities for volunteering there and at the local school, and notably the island generating all its own electricity, the brainchild of the hotel owner – powered by hydro, wind and sun.