The last night on the island I did not see as many stars as one would expect from an island. I did not know where they went. In the tiled long hall way with rotating fans i saw a crumpled leaf disguised as a butterfly. I finally prodded it up and it opened into this glorious purple thing with large circles for eyes. It calmly climbed on my hand and I thought it was nearly dead but stayed beautifully open and alert until I carried it outside and set it near the hummingbird nest. In afterthought I may have opened it to birds of prey and when later the group was playing a drinking game with cheap rum I saw it again land on a post and 5 clearish white blue geckos immediately sprang into view. And I thought certainly I´d opened it up to some harsher fate. I hope not.
One would think that also when your tour guide says 12 hours of travel. But after a short bus ride over the dead coral imbedded in sand and the cruise ship with tagged travelers, the flight with no a' c, to the 2nd flight with no a'c, to the 6 hour busride winding its way through hondurus- was easy in comparison to the worst day ever. So i just stared out of windows a lot and tried to hibernate. It´s exhausting to travel through a physical space. Flowing over a whole world of people and life. and then there´s all the waiting.
On coming to the border, the guy with the stamp had left somewhere and someone had gone to get him so we waited and waited... but were eventually released to a road with dirt and pavement patch combinations into a deserted Leon with trash everywhere around 12AM. But the christmas tree, though anachronistic to me shone prettily in the reception area. However, the charm of being in an old colonial house with thick authentic doors and gaping holes to the noise of the outside street lost its appeal almost immediately upon collapsing into bed, but I had to laugh as church bells peeled at 6am along with a car alarm.
And I thought, gone is the island, and here is the messy and all over the place Leon. It gives me perspective for the large latin base in LA. Certain staples of sprawl and weird neglect. They seem unwilling to go far from the main road. They are all out there along the highway, walking through the streets, selling their wares, as if to keep themselves neat and tidy in a small box may mean they would miss an opportunity of being, of seeing something... or that to be tucked into the jungle or synchrones with nature might mean they would slowly start to dissolve into the landscape. And it seems with all the volcanos and being on a mountainous sliver of land, how easily it could happen.
This morning I went on a city tour and their history though it may seem long is short. Indians. Conquistidors. Revolutionaries. The future...
The tour operator seemed to address himself almost soley to the older canadian in my tour group mariana, as it was just she and i, it made it obvious. We were both equally interested in Somosa, Cathedrals and the sugarcane candy. However, I was not pleased by the ¨death to imperial invaders¨... written outside the museum of revolution. And I didn´t need him to translate it for me.. because after the spanish, nicaraguans take up directly with America, but most honestly the guide admitted, they take up with themselves. But what can I do. We are all, all of us, very polite about things we believe so far both in the group and with all the guides. The conflicts usually lie within.
The others went off to sand board Cerro Negra. 45 min hike to the top and the quickest way down... but having already meditated on my limits, I declined. Though I burn with a small envy that i didn´t go, or even pay a few hundred bucks to deep sea explore in they caymen trench. And afterall I think someone should know something of the places your passing through- it´s not just an amusement park of activities. Because below the facade of the tourist is the deep waters of land and its people and its fate... And I want a good story. Something to reflect on besides the thrill and success of a physical act... But what about the city dump located on a beautiful bluff that shows you the view of all the volcanos you´re surrounded by, where Somosa had his fortress and turture chambers, or if the wealthy won´t return bcs Ortega is in power, or why Leon can´t get its tourism act together and why our guide is off to unite his country and show everyone why he loves it.
It is 90degrees or there about. And the sun is setting, which means I should go apply bug spray and await the dusty return of my mate julie. I need to get a good amount of time to tell you all about them... these people I¨m with. I have a nickname now with the aussie harriet. She calls me Cas-bar, and the Kaz for short. Mama Kaz for when she make sme feel old without knowing it. And I am already famous for my search of Canda Dry soda water, the one mojito I had and of course my smirking silent ways. Tomorrow its off to Granada ... with the peak of the summit reached, all we m ust do now is go down.
