Homeward bound

Isolde and I are in Guatemala, prepared to return mañana -- Monday, Dec. 18 -- for Seattle. After the buses, a plane is going to be a nice change.

See those of you I see soon. Happy holidays to all. And thanks for reading this thing. Unless you didn´t. Then coal for you.

What Bill Ford ain't telling you

Sorry folks, I have some bad news.

This is going to come as a shock to some of you, especially those of you who own a Ford Focus.

The Focus has another name. A very foul name.

Brace yourself.

You.

Are.

Driving.

A Fiesta.

That's right. Latin America is full of your car. But they carry a different name. A tainted name. Fiesta. And it is your car's too. Har.

Sorry. And god help you if you have a racing stripe or -- audible gasp -- flowery Western detailing.

More photos

Below, you´ll find a bunch of photos. Hope you like them. They´re split between three posts because I´m bad at Blogger.

Isolde and I will be home in a week. Happy holidays until then.

Nicaragua photos -- Granada

This is Granada. When people talk about beautiful colonial cities in Central America, they´re talking about Granada. (Some people think they´re talking about Antigua, Guatemala. Those people are wrong.)

This is what most of the city´s downtown looks like, except a little less so. It´s pretty and striking, and somehow fiting.

We were in Granada for election night and the day after. No booze was sold for three days. That did not deter these men, who were thrilled that Daniel Ortega had defeated Oliver North´s hopes and dreams, again.

This is me, standing on the side of the street (and stating the obvious). In the background you see a church. One of the perks, apparently, of Spanish rule is lots of churches. It´s like Lynden, Wash., but old and warm and relatively free of Dutch people.

Here´s Lago de Apoyo. It´s warm, clean and gorgeous.

Nicaragua photos -- Ometepe and zee beach

After Granada, Isolde and I clearly needed to relax after all that relaxation. So, we headed to the beach at San Juan del Sur. San Juan del Sur, it turns out, is a bit of a dive. But this nearby beach was totally gorgeous. The photo isn´t, but you get the idea.








Anybody want some soup?

Kidding. So, we seen us some tortugas. Here´s me and one of the little devils. We were there for an arival, so the beach was just full of them.




Here we have the island of Ometepe, in Lake Nicaragua. It´s a pair of volcanos. Isolde and I went there after a few days at San Juan del Sur failed to relax us to the point of coma.
Incidently, the lake was once full of bull sharks. Somoza killed most of them. Apparently he didn´t like living stuff. But I´m told you can water ski here now.



Here´s Isolde making her pretty face. Cute, eh?

This is Lupé. For the price of a cup of coffee, you too can make a difference in the life of a young Nicarguan ...

So, this girl isn´t from San Juan or Ometepe. She is named Lupé. She sells this little shell things at a beach near León, where we did our Spanish school. The day we met she told me I don´t speak Spanish, in Spanish. This was funny.

Nicaragua photos -- León

Here we have Isolde, fashionable as always, speaking with some Dutch people. In the background you´ll notice a monument to León´s heroes and martyrs. As the city has been destroyed eight times by acts of man -- only once by nature -- you can imagine there are a number of heroes and martyrs. Unfortunately for those that died at the hands of English pirates or Teddy Roosevelt´s Marines, this monument is only for the victims of the most recent revolution.


Me, basking in the glow of our $8-a-night room. The cock next door crowed constantly, but the noise of construction outside usually drowned it out.








León, at Christmas. Note the wire tree hanging from something.













Isolde, at prison. We hiked with a guide for about a mile to get to this deserted torture chamber. It was run by Somoza, the man who FDR praised for being our son-of-a-bitch. He may have been ours. It seems he was certianly a son-of-a-bitch.







Our guide -- also our taxi driver, a law student, and police captian´s son -- leading Isolde back toward the city dump. We walked through it to get to the prison. Sorry mom. Don´t worry about that haze though. The dump wasn´t steaming.

It was smoking.

An idea

So, I´m feeling a bit under the weather today and just spent too much time at an Internet café. And read this commentary from the L.A. Times. The gist is that all us Americans should have to take the new citizenship test. A reasoned argument.

I mean, we all agree that immigration controls in any country are born of selfishness. It´s that good kind of selfishness, the kind that keeps you from boiling yourself to feed the hungry. If that´s true, then why not boot people who can´t be bothered to learn about the separation of powers.

Kidding of course.

Ojalá Maria -- Now let blow stuff up

I have found the greatest holiday ever.

The Nicargauans, it seems, know how to have a good time. It´s the day for the patron Saint of Nicaragua, Mary. If you want a better holiday season, here´s the recipe for tipico Christmas cheer.

Ingredients:

· 2 cups Halloween
· 850 milliliters Fourth of July
· 4 pounds Thanksgiving
· A pinch of Christmas
· A dash of Kwanza

Step 1 -- You start with day one, Dec. 7. Take the Halloween and strain out the costumes and coldness. You don´t want them souring you new holiday. Skim off restrictions on adult participation in trick or treating. You should be left with only the gathering of gifts from strangers. Let sit overnight.

Step 2 -- Over a low flame, simmer your Fourth of July. You´ll want to cook off the bbqs and most of the national pride. You´re left with the fireworks and excessive alchohol consumption. Add essence of Halloween and stir occasionally.

Step 3 -- Bring the base to a low boil, then sprinkle in the Kwanza to add a bit of pre-conquest spice to your holiday. Then stir in the Christmas for some good ol´fashion monothesism.

Step 4 -- Serve piping hot, preferably is small, easily breakable bowls.

Note: Set Thanksgiving pounds aside for now. You´ll stew them whole tommorow to cover the hangover.


So, that is an overly vague and none-to-sensible description of the Léon´s biggest holiday. For our concrete sequential folks, this is what happens.

At noon of Dec. 7, Nicaraguans fire their first fussillade of fuegos artificiales -- fireworks. Volleys follow every six hours through noon the following day. That includes six a.m. and midnight. Nicaraguan dogs do not like Maria´s birthday.

(It´s worth noting that, having lived through an exceptionally long civil war, the Nicaraguans like to go big on their fireworks. Last year the police tried to ban any bombas bigger than a soccer ball. The ban was ignored then, and has since been abandoned. So, it´s been loud.)

At six p.m. Dec. 7, a parade of Santa Maria marches to the central cathedral. There, they are greeted by men dressed as bulls. The bulls also shoot fireworks. Into the crowd. At the cathedral. Mary mother of God likes to blow shit up, apparently.

After the bulls and icons, Léoneses start going house to house collecting goodies. They shout to homeowners with icons, asking what their happy about. The homeowners respond that they´re
happy Maria was born. I think. It could be something else. But you get the gist.

Homeowners then hand out the afor mentioned goodies -- snacks, instant coffee, small shampoo bottles. It´s a kind of wealth redistribution, I´m told. Or a way to get the poor people to bathe a bit more. I´m not sure which.

Following the very Christian giving, there´s a lot of less religious drinking. Then more fireworks.
The following day is a federal holiday, which is the real genius of Maria´s day. Except for New Years Day, we Americans seem bent of drinking and making merry on our holidays. These holidays are always followed by not-holidays, aka mildly hungover-at-work days. The Nicaraguan method is superior. Drink. Blow stuff up. Then relax.

Happy Maria day.