Tempus Sure Does Fugit

Today, I am doubly pensive as I look back on a rather rotten year, and a supremely happy week with Mary Mary. On this day, they both seem to have flown by. MM is home with her beloved Great Dane Sophie, and the Obama's are packing. How I shall miss them all.

This past Tuesday, Mary Mary and I waited for the bus to Masaya, and a grim little woman with a machete wrapped in cloth approached us, chattering away. Other bus-bound people smiled, as she is likely a local character.

You talkin' a me?

We hailed a taxi in Masaya and headed for the famous volcano (my 5th visit!). The lava was still visible, though further down than in August when I was last there. MM got a great photo:

After shopping at the Masaya mercado, we stopped briefly in Caterina, a town nearby that is famed for its plant nurseries and for its high view of Laguna Apoyo, a crater lake in an extinct volcano. A friend of Erlinda is a retired teacher who now runs a store there with good quality "ropa tipica," traditional Nicaraguan clothing. We shopped some more, and then she took us to a restaurant for coffee and the famous view.

The extraordinarily windy weather affected our Wednesday fishing excursion. The sea was choppy, with white caps. In a panga, each little bump in the water threatened to toss us into the drink! The water was cold, as well, and the fish kept their distance. But we had a great time, and afterwards, MM consoled herself with yet ANOTHER lobster at the El Casino Hotel in Casares. We sat on the hotel's porch which gives on to the beach and the lined-up pangas. Not to mention some adorable porkers poking around in the sand. MM caught this funny juxtaposition with her Iphone:

Thursday, we again found ourselves on the bus to Masaya, exiting at Caterina, where we had forgotten one of our Tuesday purchases. We lunched at home, and MM packed up her suitcase and we bubble-wrapped some breakable gifts. Then off to Managua to meet Stefan and Noel for dinner before checking into the Hotel Las Mercedes, opposite the airport (MM's flight was very early on Friday). I was delighted to find my new friends from Pochomil, Dave and Mary, and we had a less than spectacular meal at the restaurant Don Pargo. Caveat emptor...

Mary Mary departed Friday morning at 5:50, and Stefan collected me later for a visit to Radio Tigre, where his father Ivan records his radio show devoted to the works of famed 19th-c. poet Rubén Darío. Ivan asked me to read several poems in English, and we discussed the quality of the translations, among other things. On the radio again! Whoopee! The show airs on 5 January. 

Happy 2017, everyone! Salud, Dinero, y Amor! (Health, money, and love!)

Nativities by the Score

My Xmas trip to Managua with Mary Mary in tow ended with a nighttime slow drive down the Avenida Bolivar, the primary north/south street that ends at the National Theater and the remains of the once-magnificent cathedral, now a relic of the 1971 earthquake. Block after block of Avenida Bolivar is lined with large Nativity displays, each illuminated and accompanied by deafening Christmas music, The ensuing cacophony is at once celebratory and absurd. The whole area is bedecked with illuminated bells, xmas presents, angels, and ornaments, and thousands of people strolled the Avenida, munching candy apples and tortillas on offer from street vendors. There was plenty of free-market action, with Christmas souvenirs lined up cheek by jowl with Star Wars light sabres and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle toys. Mosquito swatters and baggies filled with water, juice and other libations competed for the crowd's cordobas with boards of sunglasses, jewelry, watches, and peanuts. Here are some visuals:

"Jesus Forever" was this year's theme.

Santa?

Cathedral shell illuminated.

Hugo Chavez, tho' long gone, lives in light forever in Managua!

The godawful "trees of life" have spawned children...

A large question looms over this extravagant celebration. A friend explained that each of the dozens of Nativity displays is supplied by an industry or company that does business in Nicaragua. According to him, they are obligated to provide a spectacular display each December if they wish to continue doing business. If this is true, it would be a most unseemly mix of church and state and extortion. It is a new tradition of just a few years, so perhaps it may morph into a voluntary and truly celebratory event. The lights are extraordinary, the vendors make some money, and the people? We saw very few smiles except on the faces of children.

Best Christmas Present!

Four blissful days ago, my sister arrived to spend a week with me, and I have been foolishly happy for every blessed minute!

23 Dec.: We hopped a bus west to La Boquita beach for a swim and a beer and a sumptuous lunch at Samoa del Sur of red snapper (me) and TWO lobsters (!) for Mary Mary. Afterwards, we stopped at my former digs and had a chat with my former landlady and friend, Beth, and I was silly glad to see Brynn's old gang of three-- Roxie, Rasta, and Lukie. MM snapped some nice beach photos.

24 Dec.
Saturday, we visited with my neighbors to again thank Fatima and Solomon for their quick assistance when I was so sick two weeks ago. And off to the mercado in Diriamba for some last minute Christmas shopping! MM loved it, especially the sheer overload of STUFF...

and the distinctively refrigeration-free butcher shop...

We had hired Ernesto, a moto (tuk tuk) driver to collect us for Noche Buena (Christmas Eve) Mass at the beautiful church of San Sebastian in Diriamba. His son Osmond showed up instead, right on time (!) and we entered a packed church for one of the most glorious and weird experiences I have yet had in Nicaragua.

That Latin tradition of cherry bombs and cuetes I mentioned a post or two ago added the weirdness to the devotional proceedings. The homily was punctuated by huge bursts of explosive reports. The obvious religiously-inspired congregation did not blink an eye. It was simply part of the Christmas Mass. When the small (and youthful) chorus chimed in, Mary and I were stunned at the sheer beauty of their sound. Perfect harmonies and a director who conducted from an electric piano created a rich, simply splendid effect that resounded throughout the church. I thought of the  gorgeous choruses in the opera Orfeo of Monteverdi.  Here are more photos from MM:

Rather tragic pose for St. Sebastian in his niche, sporting gold lame!

Poe John Paul II visited the church in 1983, commemorated thusly:

This little guy slept through even the most violent explosions outside!

The altar was much photographed after the Mass.

The church was adorned with tons of blinking Christmas lights that made me feel slightly epileptic. The local sense of decor is somewhat different than mine, but hey, it should be! We loved every moment. We were greatly moved by the outpouring of wishes for peace by many people and children!

25 Dec.
Merry Christmas to one and all! We went to Managua to spend this day and night with my friends in Ciudad Sandino. Maria José, her husband and two little boys stayed here with Brynn and Suzy, and enjoyed a roast chicken dinner, the makings for which I bought yesterday in Diriamba.

First thing Xmas morning, MM snapped a selfie of us in our jammies, smiling through our disappointment that I have no chimney and Santa passed us by. Note the extravagant Christmas lights behind us!

Suzy with a new toy from Santa Tom in Florida!

As I entered the gallinero to feed my biddies, Barbie, the alpha hen, hopped onto my shoulder!

So happy to have Mary Mary here. Tuesday, off to Masaya and the volcano. Wednesday, we're going to go fishing in the ocean with Harold. Merry Christmas to us!

A Bit of Biological Warfare

Once more into the breech, and yet another adventure into  the hazards of tropical health threats.

Last weekend, Noel and a new friend, Silvio, an architect, and I were collected by an American couple, Dave and Mary, for a visit to their gorgeous new (slightly incomplete) new house in Pochomil, about an hour's drive up the Pacific coast.

Dave combined old and new ideas in his design for the house.

Dave, Noel and Silvio, with Patch, and the ocean beyond.

Below: Pepper and Patch

 

 The seaside community is bigger than La Boquita, but similar, in that the homes lining the sea and beach are large, modern, and bespeak a level of means not usually seen in small Nicaraguan towns. Across the road inland and beyond, the houses are much more modest, with dogs ranging freely amidst pigs and horses, oxen and cattle. These last are only occasional, I hasten to clarify.

We had a nice meal on the aft porch and Mary and I fell to yakking with gusto, neither of us having many English-speaking women friends here. We found we had much in common, and I had a few too many rum and Cokes.

As it happened, I had gotten a large insect bite on my back about two weeks prior—a spider, I thought. It had become a bit bigger and warmer, and I suspected it was infected. So, the next morning, as Dave was driving me home, we stopped at a farmacia where the clerk took a photo of the ugly red bump and emailed it to a physician, who recommended an antibiotic and a medicated topical cream.

A mile or so of the road is gloriouslyshaded in a tunnel of leaves.

















Once home, I bid adios to Maria José, who had stayed the night with my pups, and drank a couple of bottles of water to re-hydrate my slightly hungover system. I read the paper online, fed the chickens, skipped lunch in favor of more water, and suddenly spiked a fever, followed by chills. I put myself to bed and panic began setting in. I was well and truly sick. I could not feel my legs under the sheet, and my heart was pounding. And still the chills and fever. I wondered if I had waited too long to address the infected bite, and feared I had a blood infection. I was shaking uncontrollably. Frantic, I called my next door neighbor, Fatima. She and her husband drove me to the Jinotepe hospital, and also called Maria José and asked her to meet us there.My blood pressure was sky high, and the doctor put something under my tongue to reduce the BP.  They diagnosed an abscessed bite, and sent me home with a new antibiotic and orders to have my blood pressure checked daily for a week.

This I did at my local health center, a short walk from my house. The nurse declared that my ugly red bite was the result of a kind of fly, who had deposited an egg in my back. (My blood pressure was back to its normal good levels,) The clinic was busy, so she arranged to remove the presumed maggot on Friday.

Despite much squeezing and pushing and genuine pain, no worm emerged. The abscess remains, minus what had been evacuated. I return to the hospital Sunday for a checkup, and I owe Maria José big time, as she has accompanied me to the clinic daily and cared for me like a pro. And, by the way, all my healthcare at the hospital and clinic was free.

Christmas Go Boom!

A hundred years ago, when Gabriel and I first visited his abuelita (grandma) in Lima, Peru, we were introduced to the noisy Latin American custom of celebrating Christmas with fireworks, cherry bombs and all manner of (usually) minor explosives. And usually at night, to show off the visuals to best effect.

In fact, a few years later, when Gabe was about 6, we stood on the house roof and set off our own cuetes, little poppers that made a big sound a few seconds after being lit, and thrown off the roof. Gabe passed the unlit cuetes to his abuela's maid to do the dangerous part. People wisely avoided the residential streets during the holidays.

Today, as we begin only the second week of December, the cherry bombs have been going off day and night every few hours, four or five in a row. Brynn thinks it's thunder and runs into the kitchen where she cowers under the sink counter. Suzy stares in the direction of the explosion and waits for more specific info.

There are other noises worth mentioning, primarily for the benefit of Mary Mary, my sister, due here in two weeks. A 4:30 a.m., the big semi-tractor trailers start blasting their blasted horns all the way down the highway, a mere 25 yards from the house. At about 5:30 a.m., the bats who live under my roof start returning from their nightly food forays. They thump and scrabble just above the ceiling, as if they are squabbling about the good roosting spots. "Hey, that's my place!" Oh, yeah? Well, now it's mine. Wanna fight about it?"

I have already replaced a couple of my dropped ceiling tiles because of the guano buildup. I sweep up the stuff and put it in the garden. I like bats, especially because they eat tons of mosquitoes and other insects. Such a little word in English is merciélago in Spanish. Five whole syllables!

The clip-clop of horse carts mingles with the distorted unintelligible PA announcement cars that pass occasionally. And then there is the blare of assorted radio speakers pumping out everything from rap to salsa, sentimental ballads to mariachi. And the tinkling bells of the Eskímo vendors. All punctuated by those damned explosions. Boom! Boom!

(And I am an authentic baby boomer! What's my problem?)