Friday, June 5, 2015

Ten Days in May



We traveled by night to Managua from Ft. Lauderdale, arriving around one a.m., a balmy time of day minus the direct heat of the tropical sun. In fact, due to weather disturbances on the Atlantic coast of Nicaragua, we enjoyed gusty winds and cool breezes during most of our visit. The wet season should have begun by mid-May, but rain was barely in evidence during our ten days.

After a day of decompression and a happy reunion with my friends and their two grown sons, who were toddlers when I first met them in 1988, the first order of business was a drive to La Boquita. With younger brother Stefan at the wheel, we made good time traveling south to Diriamba, turning right toward the Pacific coast, perhaps 50 miles in all. La Boquita is a tiny village that so far has eluded the tourist traffic that pours into San Juan del Sur, closer to Costa Rica. The beach at La Boquita attracts crowds of Nicaraguans during Holy Week and Christmas vacations, but otherwise sees little action.



My apartment is small, but comfortable, with great air flow—essential to basic sanity in the absence of air conditioning. My landlord and lady are transplanted Kentuckians who settled in La Boquita about five years ago seeking their own corner of paradise. The house is perched just above the sea on a shallow escarpment, with steps leading down to the water, which was at low tide when we visited, exposing several yards of wet sand. I wondered if I could surf cast there.



We three decided to check out La Boquita's cluster of beachside restaurants under thatched pavilions, and were commended to Los Jicaritos, with chef Suzy presiding over a menu of fresh seafood. Make that Mr. Suzy, a diminutive round sort of chap with a ponytail, eyeliner, and an effusive manner, who led us through the restaurant and down into the pavilion to a table set on the sand. There were few customers, but dozens of available tables. I tried to imagine the throngs of Semana Santa (Holy Week), lining up for Suzy's seafood soup. That's what I had for lunch, and it was very good indeed. Gabe had lobster. When I paid the check, Suzy excused himself and ran to neighboring businesses to borrow the change I had coming. Running a restaurant in a sleepy beach town that wakes up for only two or three weeks per year means cutting it close to the bone. I told Suzy I would be back before long and he gave me a big hug. My first friend in La Boquita.


No comments:

Post a Comment