Hop on the bus...

Early Wednesday, I decided to divert my mind from its fraught focus on the documents in transit for my residence visa. I needed TP, paper towels and hueso rojo—scrap butcher bones—that I buy for Brynn. And cheese, and culantro (tastes like cilantro, but is a very different plant) for homemade ceviche. So I opted to visit the super in Diriamba.

I sat for a few minutes waiting for el buh (Nicaraguans usually drop an "s" at the end of a word), watching a trio of untethered horses moving along, looking for nonexistent forage. They crossed to my side of the road just before the bus arrived. All over this country, there are deep drain channels between the road and the buildings or properties, as you can see below.

This early bus was new to me, and it sported some bright metallic highlights on its exterior. I could not help but notice that the driver's cab had been upholstered in a quilted red material, maybe plastic, which was totally phat, in my opinion! Pretty buff transport.

I wanted to get some visuals to try and capture the landscape through which the bus travels en route to Diriamba. These are typical of most of the dwellings we pass on the trip.

A field of sugar cane that has doubled in height since I arrived in La Boquita.

 And right near La Trinidad, where the bus detours to a Catholic school to pick up passengers, is a modern solar array.

And more small houses with corrugated metal roofs, usually built of concrete block, some without indoor plumbing and electricity. Yet the families within go to work in clean clothes, ride the bus with me, and care for their kids, and generally do what they must in order to live their lives

Here's a pulperia—little convenience store—with satellite TV service... There's a street in Diriamba that has a half-dozen pulperias in a row! Often they are named after a woman, i.e. Pulperia Nancy, or Pulperia Rosita. One in Diriamba is Pulperia Carrion! Think I'll pass...

My camera battery died after this last shot, but I hope these images offer some idea of my new neighborhood. And, as it turned out, the supermarket was out of paper towels, and had no hueso rojo.

But for once they had pork, so I bought some to try. I've had no luck with beef, which seems as if it has been cut up with a broad ax—and it's tough. And I have just received word that the documents are safe in hand, a whole day early! Whoopee!