Progress, Illness, and Woeful Tardiness

Shockingly, there has been no new content in this blog for two weeks!  This deplorable state is not due to a paucity of activity or events. There have been many distractions, the most recent of which is a continuing abdominal malaise, perhaps acquired at the airport the other night when I was meeting my current house guest, a lovely chap named Mike who is a new friend (to me) and an old friend of my pal Tom in Florida. But I digress...  I was early, the plane was late, and I was hungry, so I stopped at the Subway in the food court, and had a seafood salad sandwich. Within an hour, I was hurling in the ladies' and shaking uncontrollably.

Mike and I stayed with Ivan and Erlinda in Managua before busing to my house next morning. I slept very little, puked twice more, and felt like I was dying. Yesterday, I had a little of my own good chicken soup. Today, I ate some rice for breakfast. I am still queasy, and rather weak from lack of food and dehydration. This is my first real illness since my bout with chikungunya last summer. I hope it was the Subway so-called seafood salad and not something more sinister than food poisoning.

Over the past two weeks, we have been invaded by millions of houseflies. My supply of flypaper has needed replenishing twice, with sticky landing pads in every room becoming absolutely covered with insects in an hour or two. The solution was a screen door, which lacked screen, and had to go to the carpenter to be re-screened and repaired, The lower half was reinforced by a layer of chicken wire to protect the screen from doggy damage. The results have been stellar!  Perhaps a dozen flies manage to slip inside when the door opens to let out the dogs, but they are hardly noticeable after the ordeal of trying to eat a meal with a hundred flies flitting about the plates and forks.

Behold my new vegetable garden! To date, I have zucchini seedlings, but Byron is going to plant carrots and radishes in a day or two, and son Gabriel is bringing more seeds from the states next week!

My zinnias have been decimated by heavy rains and leaf-cutter ant predation. Byron bought a pesticide we hope will save the few remaining healthy plants. So far, about half the crop have perished.

Coconuts are coming on gangbusters!

 And Little Susie is putting on weight and looking pretty fly (no offense!).

Shopping, Entertaining: My Social Whirl

Last Friday, Maria José and I went to Jinotepe to buy a few necessities for Sunday's luncheon, my new home's debut social event. I had invited my Managua family, and expected to feed seven, but I had plates and utensils for only five and a half. Jinotepe has a larger mercado than Diriamba, and is almost as close by. I also wanted to look at fabric to see if I could find something to replace the despised blue of the sofa cushions.

Managua has several large mercados, and Masaya has a big tourist mercado, all under roof and packed with kiosks and booths, along with more extensive shops and stores. In Diriamba and Jinotepe, there are roofs, tarps, garbage bags and anything else that might keep out the rain. But plenty of rain gets in along the narrow walkways, which are muddy, greasy, uneven, and riddled with steps down or up, and often both. One dares not walk unmindfully, but then risks missing the gloriously chaotic displays of simply everything in the world that Murphy's and Woolworth's used to sell. Plus fruits, vegetables, plucked chickens, sides of beef, dripping livers, and pigs' heads. The filth and miasma of the walkways fall behind when you pass thru the entry of a proper vendor of, well, fabrics, in this case. Tiled floor, wall shelves packed with colorful bolts of mainly synthetic cloth. The cutting tables and notions displays are not unlike those found at Joanne Fabrics in Pennsylvania. We found what we wanted and after it was measured out and paid for, we slipped back into the dirty wet path, crowded with shoppers and vendors alike. (I WILL take my camera next time!)

Four of my Sunday guests did me the honor of arriving on time, a habit of mine that has earned me many chuckles and snark in this country of two or three hours' leeway. My Peruvian arroz con pollo was, I must say, excellent, and so was the company. Two latecomers completed the party, and I think we all enjoyed ourselves.

 Parzi and Ivan kept company in the hammock with Little Susie and Brynn

Erlinda wore a pretty Mexican dress, and Janeth made herself  comfortable on my new sofa. The cushion covers had gone home with Maria José, so I threw a blanket over them. So attractive...

Maria José arrived Monday morning and surprised me with new cushion covers she'd sewn over the weekend. Doesn't the sofa look swell? I wonder who took care of MJ's family for two days! She is a marvel!

Back on Campus (and it feels so good!)

My mind is much taken up now with the impending visit by my pride and joy, who is finishing up his first year as a teacher. Apparently, there were so many snow days, the school year will last until the last week in June. Gabriel has promised to play the organ at my niece's wedding - which I sadly will miss -- and thereafter, wend his way to my door for a couple of weeks. I am beside myself with anticipation. One yearns so for the presence - the feel - of one's offspring.

Yesterday, I moved ahead with my desire to be useful, to make a positive difference in some small way, with a visit to Keiser University's Central American campus, just a few kilometers up the road in San Marcos. I learned that they follow the North American academic year, and things are quiet for the nonce until classes resume in September. Keiser acquired Ave Maria University just three years ago; as its former name suggests, it was a Catholic institution, and there is still a strong Catholic presence on campus, with a resident priest and a pretty chapel. Work on the chapel roof limited my view to its exterior only. The campus is compact and lovely, with several newer buildings and many plantings and neat landscaping.

I was made to feel very welcome indeed by the head of academic support, who has laudable goals for her programs that may well provide opportunities to be helpful. She introduced me to the librarian, who is a remarkable woman, very personable, and no doubt, in possession of many good stories to tell of her 36 years living in Nicaragua. Just imagine the transformative history she has watched unfold here.

After Gabriel departs for the States, I'll get back in touch about setting up a tutoring schedule one or two days a week. I already feel I have two friends at Keiser, and it is exciting to be flexing my academic muscles, modest thought they may be.

On the literary front, I have made a good start on Tolstoy's War and Peace, that hefty epic widely regarded to be the finest novel ever written. On deck is an even more ambitious read: Edward Gibbon's History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.

Compost, Including Compost

Grow, Baby, Grow!
A few days ago, I asked Byron to dig up the little spot where I proposed to transplant my zinnia seedlings, which were doing very well, and would soon need more space. Byron hauled in a few bucketfuls of good rich earth to mix with the plot, and added some fertilizer. He agreed that late afternoon, after the heat of the day had peaked, would be best for transplanting, and returned at four.

The plot was nicely raked and looked perfect, until I poked my little spade into the earth and it hit hardness about one inch in. Byron had merely spread the new soil over the hard-as-concrete earth. I explained that we needed to excavate at least six inches down before we could transplant anything, so we got to work. It was hot going, and I rubbed a big painful blister in the center of my palm, but eventually, we had a proper seed bed, raked and ready. We carefully set out the zinnias and watered the plot gently, and stuck a few leftovers in the circle around the newly planted laurel sapling. Here it is this morning:

Don't you love my makeshift fence? So far, no doggies have crossed the line,

I am happy to say that all but one have survived thus far, despite a very heavy rain overnight two nights ago. Byron has begun preparing the main garden, earning his own blisters, and I hope to have zucchini in the ground before the weekend ends.

Rotting in Heaven
No longer do I throw out the yummy peelings and fruit rinds with the trash. Now we have a compost heap in a back corner of the garden next to the house. Mixed with good rich loam, my eggshells and coffee grounds are evolving into fabulous nutrients for next year's garden. This year, I have a sack of 15-15-15 to do the honors

Alex Trebek is Back in my Life!
Maria José took me to a resale shop in Dolores, a small town between Diriamba and Jinotepe, to look for another television. We found an older Panasonic, the heavy sort with a bulging backside, but working well, with its remote control. We flagged down a taxi, and then a tuk tuk in Diriamba to get the thing home. The cable guys returned the next day and hooked me up. One problem: the news channels I had ordered did not seem to be available, so I made a fourth trip to the Claro offices and asked them to resolve the issue. They did, and now I have BBC news, and a couple of Miami network stations. After nearly a year without television, I was thrilled to sit and enjoy Jeopardy again. Also Graham Norton, bless 'im! And news,news, news. Most of it awful.

Sofa Blues
Yesterday, MJ and I went to Masatepe -- Furnituretown, Nicaragua. I doubted I'd find a sofa in my price range, but it was worth looking. And I like riding the bus with her. It looked pretty dismal until we gave up and went to find a place to have lunch. There, on the porch of a store, was a long, wooden sofa that was deep enough to be a bed, and it was only $260. The cushions are blue, and I plan to dye them black, but here is a photo au naturel.

The sofa sits opposite my Peruvian wall hanging, with which blue mos' def does not go.

Notice my new TV? Pretty high tech stuff!

(P.S.  31 May
The dye did not work very well. The royal blue is now navy blue. Must reupholster!)

A Dish on the Roof

The Claro cable company may be forgiven for thinking me the most idiotic Norteamericana ever. First, I showed up to order cable at the Diriamba office, which sent me to the Jinotepe office. It seems the Diriamba office handles phone service and accepts payment for cable, but Jinotepe, just a few kilometers down the highway holds the supreme command. I ordered and paid for new service, and when the crew showed up to install the dish, they were slightly put off by my having no television at the moment. Uh, who knew? I thought they would run a cable into my sala and I would hook it up. Wrong.

So, I borrowed a television from Stefan. And today, the cable crew returned and installed the dish on the roof, and ran the cable into the house. When they tried to establish a relationship between the TV and the dish, the TV kept turning on and off.  I had to promise to take the TV to a tech repair shop and have it fixed and then they would return and finish the job. I felt like an ass. And very disappointed. With such limited internet, I am roaming my house swatting flies, and walking through the garden picking tiny caterpillars off the chili plants, and reading H.G. Wells’ incredibly tedious “Utopia.” I admit I was looking forward to having TV after nearly a year of none. Even Miami news looked good to me.

Notice the big orangish-red dish atop my roof?

Today, Byron mowed the lawn. We do not have a lawn mower. You may never complain again of the need to cut the grass unless you are willing to do it with a machete! My 65-year-old back ached in sympathy as he moved, crablike, across the yard. Then he raked it all up and left on his bicycle. Oh, to be young again.

I was telling my friend Tom that this time in Nicaragua is the first in twenty years that I have not lost sleep because of money worries. After my brilliant abbreviated career in broadcasting, I had little trouble finding work as a writer, but I never made good money again. Raising a child alone and stretching entry-level wages to cover expenses is not conducive to sound sleep. Here, my modest pension and Social Security are ample to meet my needs. Except this month, when I had an enormous vet bill and a gi-gunda electric bill. No complaints, mind you. My empleados have been paid and I have a freezer full of food. And a SS payment next week. Imagine! Flat broke and happy.

You Say Cilantro, I say Culantro

Very different plants: the former is leggy, with triple erose leaves, slow to sprout, and self-seeding for the next season, at least in my Pennsylvania herb garden; the latter grows wild in Nicaragua, close to the ground, with round-tipped spear leaves, edged with spiky points. It is also cultivated at a larger size, and sold in the super. Here is an internet photo of cilantro:

And these are culantro plants in my yard.

Cilantro and culantro have the same flavor, fragrant and distinctive. Some people hate it, and say it tastes like soap. I learned to love it in Peruvian cuisine, and it is widely used here in Nica. It provides a central flavor of ceviche, that tangy mix of lime juice, onion, chilies, ginger and raw fish. It adds aromatic savor to tomato and chicken soups, pico de gallo, and is fabulous with jalapeño in hummus.

Riding back from Managua yesterday, the winding route into the hills on the Pan-American Highway nearly brought my usual nightmare to life. Cars and trucks, as well as the buses and vans in which I ride, pass slower vehicles with alarming unconcern for the blind turn ahead. The “almost accident” involved a military vehicle passing my bus, and an oncoming driver who slammed on his brakes and did a one-eighty into the curb of the opposite lane. I believe there was considerable damage to the rear end of the car, and the driver, though shaken, was uninjured. The military vehicle sat in its passing posture for about fifteen minutes, while traffic in both directions maneuvered around it. We pulled off the road; our van driver and half the passengers walked back to see what was what, and then when we finally resumed our trip, the conversation centered on the hellacious disregard of drivers who pass so dangerously. Our driver was stonefaced, and guilty as sin.

When the porter passed through the van collecting fares, the older lady beside me with a big plastic covered box on her lap paid him in change. Lots of change. Apparently, she is a vendor of slices of cake, individually wrapped, and she added a slice to her handful of cordoba coins. People chuckled at this little propino (tip) for the porter, but there was method in her largesse. Several passengers then asked to buy her cakes, and she did pretty good business on her way home.

Usually, I am the only gringa on the bus. Many of the porters in the Jinotepe-Managua-bound runs know me by now, if only for that reason. It’s funny, how some riders will smile at me and say “Hi,” or “How are you?” because they correctly assume my native language. But that’s all the English they have. It’s like when North Americans who speak no Spanish say “Adios!” to a Latino. My gring-osity hurts when I am dickering with a cabbie; when I’m with Noel, the fares are half what I am charged, and sometimes fruit vendors charge me higher prices as well. I am far too classy to complain, unless it is blatant profiteering. When I ask the fare to my house from Diriamba, a van porter may say 30 cordobas, which is the full fare to Managua, and he gets a smirk from me.  10 or 15 is what I normally pay. 

Oh, boy! Another Snake!

This photo is from a site of great pix and no information. So I cannot yet name this reptile.



This is a photo of a dead version of the same snake:

Maria José came in to tell me she’d seen a culebra, a snake, behind the water tank. She said it was poisonous and a danger to the dogs. I went with her to see it, and she chased it out with a length of PVC pipe and dispatched it like a pro. 

La Matadora

I hope it really was poisonous, and needed to be killed; in his last years, my father so appreciated life that he didn’t even want a fly to die at his hand. I feel much the same, although I kill flies with shameless glee... I've looked up the species of serpent, without success. I’m not sure I’ll feel differently even if it is poisonous. Vipers deserve to live, too. (Yes, it was venomous, according to the vet, who came with another injection for Susie.)

Little Susie is (temporarily) Skinny Ol’ Susie. She appears to have recovered from her bout with parvo virus, and has fleeting moments of appetite. She and Brynn are the only two in the hotdog lineup now, but Susie is as enthusiastic as ever. Big relief. Brynn has been just a tad bitchy to Susie, guarding her food and growling. It will pass.

Thanks to all the welding involved in construction of the Godzilla fence, my electric bill was five times bigger than last month’s!  Of course, last month had no fridge or computer or lamps in use, either. I figure the bill should even out at about $25.

About lamps: most Nicaraguan homes I’ve visited have few or no lamps to speak of. And many ceiling fixtures consist of a single bare bulb. Most houses have no closets, either. There just are not so many clothes, shoes, hats or what-have-you to require that kind of storage space. New homes being built usually have closets, due to consumer demand. Many Nicaraguans who left to live in the States or elsewhere come back in retirement with a taste for closets, small appliances, Twitter, and lamps.

And here is my new bookcase!  I actually wish it were a bit bigger, as there are more doodads cluttering the house. But I did empty most of the remaining boxes, and I think it looks swell. Those dolls on top are my latest acquisition from the San Sebastian Festival in Diriamba, costumed in the Güegüense tradition described in a January blog piece.

Thanks to Erlinda and Parzi for the hours of wifi in their Managua home!