I found myself in need of medical care while on the island of Ometepe. Going to the doctor is never an enjoyable experience in the best of times. Especially for this girl, who’s first stop when sick is Web MD and my collection of teas and essential oils. Language barriers and a lack of complete trust in Western medicine as well as wariness of local doctors made it more difficult here in Nicaragua.
Have I mentioned that it’s rainy season here in Nicaragua? It was easy to forget while in Granada.
Before coming to Central America, I pictured rainy season here to mirror the punctual thunderstorms of south Florida’s hurricane season – rain that pounds down, obliterating the horizon for 20 minutes a day before clearing up. In Granada and here in Ometepe, the rain is more infrequent than those daily storms but tends to stick around for longer.
Sunday pasado was the running of the bulls in Granada. In the weeks and months leading up to this event, I heard many stories. Nicaraguan men speak about the tradition of the event. Locals assure me that it’s controlled and safe because the bulls have ropes that are used to control their movements. Extranjeros tell me it’s pure craziness, with bulls being allowed to roam the streets at their will. Everybody has a story of a friend of a friend who was gored by a bulls’ horn. They’ll tell this story as they make slashing marks across their abdomen, thigh, or buttocks to explain where the unlucky fellow got too close to the bull.
Listening to these stories had me in a mind to avoid the event altogether. I am an animal lover, and I have the impression that events of these types usually don’t bode well for the animals involved. So I planned to spend a quiet Saturday away from the festivities.
The day began well. I worked the morning at the Finca Market at Hotel La Bocona. This is a monthly event that features produce from organic farms, local charities, and businesses selling items from bracelets made by prisoners to support their families to imported perfume and incense from India. It’s a nice opportunity to connect with the extranjero community. I was there with my friend and fellow yoga teacher to talk to people about Pure Gymand to sell delicious homemade chocolates. We had some great conversations and I walked away with a luscious bag of organic spinach for less than $1.
On returning to the gym, I sat down to practice my yoga. I sat in sukhasana and calmed my breath, working to clear my mind and gaze within. As I sat in stillness, I realized that I did not want to miss the day’s festivities. This life is about following your heart, so I rolled my mat up and took off for the streets.
On leaving the studio, the energy in the streets was palpable. Granada is a town that caters to tourists, so the streets are seldom empty. This weekend though, they were packed. People were in high spirits mingling on every street throughout the city. I made my way down towards the Calzada, the main strip of restaurants and artisanias. I encountered many of my friends there who warned me of the danger of going further. At this point, though, I was intrigued. I wandered towards Parque Central, meeting more friends along the way. One sweet chavallo friend was manning a grill with with whole ears of corn while his mom sold other delicious treat for cheap and tasty sustenance. The crowd grew thicker as I worked my way towards to park. I began to hear swells of trumpets and drums and made my way towards the music.
At this point, I began to really relax and take in the good energy surrounding me. I love being among groups of people in such high energy! The spirit is contagious. The park was CROWDED! People every which way. I felt as though I saw almost everybody I know in the city – each time I turned around there was another familiar friendly face. After walking around the perimeter of the park, I began to work my way back through the crowd in the hopes of seeing the bull when it ran by in the street. Moments after I got into the park, the crowd began to move. People towards the street started to run and the crowd surged forward. Having no interest in running, I ducked behind a tree and hung on while the crowd flowed around me. False alarm. People soon calmed down and returned to chatting with friends and peering over heads to try and see the toro.
Each time I felt the crowd had calmed and began to move out from behind my safe tree, the crowd would begin to move and run again. I quickly made my way to another safe spot – stopping to hide behind trees, a parked truck, and vendors’ carts. Anything that looked like it wasn’t going to start moving along with the crowd. In this way, I made my way to within spitting distance of the bull. The Bull. The bull who was clearly in the park, and not running by safely in the street like I’d expected. Sopresa!
I’m craving cheese today. Salty, sharp Wisconsin cheddar cheese. The closest I could find in the market is a processed, yellow cheese that looks like a sliced Kraft cheese-like-product. It contains a label of Procesado Typo de Americano Queso, Amarillo. No bueno!
The cheese I’m craving is actually part of a larger craving — for a refried bean, spinach, and cheese taco. I stopped in a place advertising tacos and my craving was not on the menu. I decided instead to hit the market and see what I could find to make my own.
First stop was Pali, the local supermercado that caters to Nicaraguans who want food not provided by the outdoor market. Continue reading “Queso Americano”
I don’t have a teevee at my house, so I haven’t spent much time watching the boob tube. I am caring for a friend’s perro y casa while she’s out of town, so I’ve had a opportunity lately to check out the local stations.
One thing that amazed me is that there are so many language offerings! While in the States we are lucky to have a few stations in Spanish, here there are stations in English, Spanish, French, German, and more languages still. It’s a reflection of the number of tourists and extranjeros visiting and living in Granada. The programing matches, with popular programs from the States presented in original language and many other languages, sometimes with subtitles in yet another language. The news, though, is 100% Nicaraguense.
It is so common, in yoga and in life, to fly through transitions. I find it a very human reaction to be so focused on what is to come next that one neglects to consider the process of getting from here to there. As Steven Tyler said, “Life’s a journey not a destination.”
It’s easier to focus on the transitions in Nicaragua because they take longer. When you’re on foot and on a bus, your transition differs greatly than when you’re in a car of your own speeding from destination to destination. I traveled this weekend to Esteli in Northern Nicaragua. Below are some notes from the ride…
Romantic Latin music plays, accompanied by video, from the front of the bus. Vendors carrying plastic bags of tomatoes and green peppers squeeze up and down the central aisle to sing-song calls of “Tomate, tomate, tomate! Chiltoma, chiltoma, chiltoma!” No need to travel all the way to el mercado for tonight’s meal. The aire here is cooler , three hours North of Granada. “Fresco, no frio,” I’m told when I mention the coolness to fellow travelers. Fresh, not cold.
Small, white geckos are prevalent here in Nicaragua. Due to the open floor plan of most houses, they are a frequent sight running up walls into small corners or climbing beams in search of insects. Their official name is in fact the House Gecko. They leave behind them tiny piles of poop, which I have the unfortunate luck of attracting. Is that good luck, perhaps, being blessed by gecko poo bouncing off my head and slipping down the front of my shirt? No se, pero it is a source of amusement. Continue reading “…and then a gecko ran by”
Once upon a time, the majestic mountain Mombacho exploded raining down ash and earth into the surrounding lake. Earth took root, as earth will do, and formed 365 isletas en el lago. As the name isleta implies, the islands are small – sometimes only large enough for a single house.
Ants biting your toes when you’re barefoot in the kitchen. Large wood ants walking industriously by with their very large bits of leaves or feathers or wood. Ants swarming the purple-frosted cupcakes I bought for my friend to welcome her to town. Ants crawling on my arm as I try in vain to practice yoga at home. Ants following me when I leave my home, each itch I feel invariably being a small black ant inching its slow way across my shoulder, neck, back.
Rainy season is in full force here in Granada, as well it should be. It comes with many benefits. Continue reading “Hormigas”
Saturday afternoon, my sister and I set off for la pescina. A day at the pool seemed like a grand idea, as it was hot and humid and not even noon yet. In order to get to the pool, it’s necessary to walk down La Calzada. La Calzada is the main street where people congregate. It’s lined with bars, restaurants, tour groups, and shops. All of the restaurants have a smattering of tables in the streets in order to both take advantage of the cool breeze and promote their tasty food. This outdoor seating makes for a social atmosphere, as tourists, locals, and street kids all congregate together. This also means that a walk down La Calzada can take anwhere from 15-30 minutes, as you run into person after familiar person.
Por ejamplo, on Friday night, my sister and I left the house to grab a couple of ice cream cones and a liter of Tona when my sister heard some voices calling my name. Continue reading “Splish Splash”
