Culture Shock and the land ladies declaw my garden
PeeWee the cat was crying like a baby and batting me about the head and shoulders early Friday morning.
I was so jazzed to be back in Nicaragua that I stayed up till after three smoking, unpacking all my new stuff and drinking water and now just three hours later PeeWee was hoping to force an early breakfast out of me and it worked. I rolled out of bed to pee….I came out of my front room onto the back porch and saw the garden. I felt like I had come home to find my son with a big black eye. Even in the soft mosquito filled light of early morning the garden gasped for life. I was warned of a forthcoming orange tree trim, the oranges were falling in the pool across the fence. But evil doer had scraped up all the baby ferns, ground covers and grasses that have been struggling thru the dry season, down to bare packed dirt, the palm frond / compost heap was gone, the palm fronds had been trimmed off the coco tree and and worst of all, the potted plants looked like it had been months not weeks since they had been watered. The once circular sour orange tree was now a perfect half circle, allowing more sunlight than every before and new scenic vistas of the big two story house behind us. Dead leaves drifted on the still morning air and formed small piles at the base of the plants….
Even potted plants right near the door were neglected. The plants must have screamed for water while they were overlooked while feeding the cat. PeeWee had found her pace and was snapping up the wiskas..I got out the hose and started to soak the garden and potted plants. It was clear that most were goners. Some of these jungle plants have great recuperative powers and this is the end of the dry season, a natural time to die back. It still seemed a real violation of my space, rented or not no one cared about that space till me and I have 3500 cordabas planted back there, watered with sweat….
It really is time to find a new place. This was an easy option for a place when I needed it.
But I think I can find a bigger / better place for more money. And since the land ladies have moved in next door it seems like I am living on the fold out couch at my aunts house in Fla….They are cheaper than me and there is a 60 day notice and a months deposit to deal with…..But as the idea sinks deeper into my heat baked brain I care less about the dough and more about the move. My neighbors across the street moved out around 11:30 at night, seems to be a tradition .Maybe the girls would like me to leave, but I am not looking forward to telling them. But I have been holding back so feeling and I might enjoy venting a little. Unlike so many of those stool moisteners at the El Quixote bar, I don’t need them to salve my aches and pains with cold beer and cheap rum..
So Saturday I meet with Don Victor, a small Indian featured gentleman of some advanced age. Don Victor is the human equivalent of the rental section of your local paper or maybe Craig’s List. He has a list of available properties for sale or rent and seems to know half the town by name.
We had an appointment for Saturday morning at 11 near Tres Mundos Plaza. It was around noon when I came back to the house to get my cell phone and give Don Victor a call. He speaks real fast typico Nica Spanish and all I understood on the phone was five minutes so I headed back to the center of town. Saturday is a half day of work for most people so the streets we getting quiet in the mid day sun. We went to just around the corner from my current place and looked a two bed two bath for 250. It was long and dark, Nicas are not impressed with the sunny blue skies and like to burrow in like turtles.
There was lot’s of room and a funny smell. It had a dropped ceiling and was just to cave like for me. A good value and the Miami Nica land lords seemed nice enough, the son even claimed to be related to “A Rod” the baseball player by marriage? Do I want to see their finca (farm) for rent just outside of tow. I regret that I said no.
The next place was around a few blocks west of my place. It is just behind what is touted as the oldest house in Granada and has been home to a succession of tourist based businesses. I have noticed this house from walking by. It has a modern façade and is painted gray with black trim. Not a typical color scheme for these parts. It was a big square inside place with a caged in open roof section overlooking the arroyo. New kitchen and tile, roman columns and five sinks, three showers and no furniture or utilities paid. Still impressive, at 4 hundred it’s fifty more than I pay now and then the utilities. If I can find a place for 250 or less I can get my own cable and internet connection, maybe satellite tv….The last place turned out to be a ways out of town but only a few doors done from Michael and Carina new place. This place had the gringo palace feel. Two story with big wide wooden doors and a second story patio. Furnished with a full kitchen, nice beds and even a spiral stair case up stairs…for the same price I pay to live in the back room and tend the garden….It was to enclosed for me. A big part of living here is the being outside and feeling the breezes. And this place would have seemed at home at a Spanish themed development in Wisconsin. But still, great bathrooms and brand new stuff, another Miami Nica landlord. Pudgy guy with sandals and Gucci sun glasses..But again no outside space of any kind. I’ve seen some 2 and three bedrooms places but they rarely have appliances
the quest goes on….
So, I have looked at a few more places for rent but it’s been a rough week here. Every day seems to get hotter. 85 this morning at seven thirty, that’s when the school marching band fired up and rehearsed a few tunes before heading off to celebrate The Virgin Mary’s appearance at Fatima. Mary appeared here in Nicaragua as well and she is probably more important here than her son. As I type it’s a little over a hundred this afternoon. The power and water outages are back. And we now have a full blown transit strike. The fares for busses and taxis are set by the government. Gas here is over $4 a gallon, diesel fuel just over $5 and how any taxi or bus driver makes a living is beyond me. Last time the government raised bus fares 12 cents there were riots in the capitol. They drivers are wanting the gov to freeze fuel prices….But the strike has forced almost all motorized traffic off the roads leaving only the horse drawn. They don’t care so much about the price of gas. But I go to Managua 3-4 times a month on the bus to buy food and the peanuts for my peanut butter. All the food here is brought in from the outlying areas as are most essential items. Private vehicles belong to the upper class. Today I saw a Hummer and a Ford Explorer parked by the Zaquan Steak House….If the strike goes on for more than a week, things will get ugly. Stores and restaurants will run out of merchandise and food. The gas stations will run out of gas….People commute on the express busses and the town to town chicken busses haul people and freight all over the country. Even the private busses that take the well off kids to their better schools are parked. Around 7:30 a.m. the streets leading to the Mercado are lined with taxis bringing the vendors and their wares to the market place. Not this week.
The strike has gotten a little ugly, picket lines with burning tires and rubber bullets. The talk is of a month long strike.
We had some rain one night last week. First rain since mid March and the tv predicts the first big tropical depression of the year will pass thru Nicaragua on Monday. Thunder and lightning of biblical proportions. Thunder so loud and close that the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up and three or four inches of rain fall in an hour to wash the streets and arroyos clean. The rains will bring back cooler weather with overcast skies and strong breezes. The plants have died back and they too are waiting for the rains…
I don’t have stomach problems here but I must have gotten a bad egg for breakfast on Wednesday. Two in the morning came and I felt like a toothpaste tube being flatten by a steel toed boot. I was explosive but ever so glad I had scrubbed down the bano earlier in the week. I couldn’t keep anything down for the next day or so. I just laid in bed and drank water. It’s better today, I had half a breakfast today and a litre of this nasty tasting “Suero Oral” It’s like a medicinal Gator Aide powder, helps you rehydrate. It’s says Strawberry Flavor on the packet but only people who have never tasted a strawberry would believe that.
Next time I’ll just get a bright blue bottle of Power Aide….
Monday, May 26, 2008
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Black Balloons in the Tavern
Black Balloons in the Tavern
My brother in law turned 50 and the half century mark was celebrated at Casey’s Tavern out on old West Main. The surprise was truly a surprise being almost a week after the actual birth date. My sister was too drag him down to a favorite track side watering hole around six thirty. The place was open to the public but sis and her pals had bought a keg and brought in a huge steamer of shredded beef with greasy old fashioned twin packed boxed ripple cut potato chips and chex cereal party mix. I was hoping that the usual cliché “over the hill” jokes and gifts would be kept at a minimum. I am after all, older than the birthday boy. I gave him a medio of 7 year old dark FDC Rum from Nicaragua. But he also got a plastic dust cover for his dick, an over the hill t shirt and a for some mysterious reason a giant carved wooden Mexican chocolate whip? I caught the food saver analogy but the molenera? There was a newly effected no smoking law and many trips were made out side to “have a butt”. It was good to have the door propped open. I noticed this week that in the tropics the temp is gradual, slowly up and down. But here, it’s in and out…the store is cool, the car interior is hot, the outside air is frosty, the apt is 80 f, my body doesn’t know what to do, so I sweat. …..Anyway we all had a swell time joking about Rory, drinking beer and eating sandwiches. Was that Garrison Keeler?
My 17 year niece and her acned young boyfriend from the farm collected car keys around 9. I think she likes driving different nicer cars and she was disappointed about rentals cars rules and a little surprised that I was drinking water on the rocks. Drinking is a bit of a family tradition. Rory kept up the family honor and had a terrific time. But when the keg ran out the crowd so did the crowd. We took down the balloons and shiny aluminum decorations, wrapped up the giant left over B Day cake and my niece and I soberly drove everybody home.
Next morning things moved a little slow till we went to a Mexican restaurant. A popular spot. Good American style Mexican classics. My niece was concerned about me having eaten too much Mexican food living in Nicaragua. I explained that they were two whole different countries and while there are two Mexican owned and operated Mexican restaurants in my town. Most Nicas eat Nica food. Her teenage pal from high school asked what country Nicaragua was in? I think what impressed these modern mid western teens was that their wacky old uncle living some where in the jungle had a my space page….We went to another massive grocery store, bought more food and ate it while watching the Minn hockey team lose a play off game.
On Sunday my brother in law grilled up a bunch of chicken breasts and we had a big old fashioned Sunday dinner…We argued a little politics and I hope I impressed on him that you vote with your money everyday and that being anti corporate is very much about being pro small town mom and pop, all American blue collar down home stuff.…Around two I tanked up the rental car with ethanol at the Super America… I was off to visit a long ago friend who lives on a scenic 150 acre spread near Rochester Minn. Beautiful huge log home, wild life and horses on a spring feed duck pond. Okay I am jealous…But I know It took him 28 years on the job to swing the mortgage and I have not that much dedication to any job I have ever had …I haven’t seen him or the other guest of honor Donna in over 20 years. Some serious nostalgificaton going on now,…With photos. Great dinner, roast pork with wild rice and fresh little green beans, field green salad,…mmmm and new to me, Sulfite free organic red wine….All good to me. Red wine here in Nicaragua comes in a dusty old room temp wax box from Chili. I had heard decades ago that she had married a cult type reverend. They are still together, 2 kids and 20 plus years.. her husband reminds me more of my the bearded and cardigan wearing Presbyterian Pastor I had as a therapist than any kind of Jim Jones. Nice people, looking for answers and trying to help.
I headed back to Nebraska early next morning. It was 6:30 am and the sun was starting to thaw the brown farm fields. The wild turkeys were strutting around down by the pond and the donkeys brayed a fare well…Small town America on a Monday morning, I looked for a breakfast place but only saw McDonalds. Just a coffee, please.
I was 20 miles north from Rochester and had I went south at the twin lane dirt road intersection leading off the farm I would have been having eggs at a hip mom and pop near the fairgrounds. Great flea markets the Gold Rush and Orinoco, back in the day.. But I went north towards St Paul and Monday morning rush hour. Two lanes full of suburban commuters in Honda pick up trucks and Range Rovers. I had no real idea how to connect to the free way or even what freeway to take. I followed the plethora of state route signs till I saw one that I recognized.. Ft Snelling State Park…Kind of far north and east from where I am heading but I had heard the name some where back in time, park board dances dressed in fringed vests and bell bottom jeans. Sting ray bikes and John Lennon glasses so, I head west singing “When I Was Young” by Eric Burden, my eighth grade class’s song of the year…. I ended up finding my way from St Paul to Mpls using age old memories of riding my hi rise death mobile bike around the park system. Ft Snelling to Minnehaha falls…Little ways further to Lake Nicomas and my old neighborhood. It may not be direct but it was scenic and I headed out at 66th Street, the same way I had meandered in…A scenic hour and a half detour but it all down hill from here. South bound on 35W, 80 mph rolling with the big rigs and excellent public radio from Mpls. I got to Omaha in the afternoon and did a little computer printer shopping in Council Bluffs and Omaha, I was in a Target store, a Super Target, it looked like all the others but the plastic smell was like huffing gas from a plastic bag. I started to feel queasy and stepped outside. No more shopping. This gave me an excuse to have Runza for lunch. When I came back from India tanned skinny and penniless, I lived in my folks basement for 18 month while saving money to go to LA and attend the Gemological Institute of America. That’s another story.
I discovered Runza a Czech baked meat roll. A nice state wide chain, clean with great crinkle cut fries…I got to the folks round 5:30 and the meat loaf was ready..
I surfed the net on mom‘s AOL dial up, confirmed my tickets on SW and Spirit, finished an Ebay deal on a Nicaraguan Hanna Barbera Ricochet Rabbit bank and found a small b&w laser printer on Office Depot‘s web site. Next morning we went to a brand new barely shook open Office Depo store were a sweet, erstwhile missionary minded asst manager got me hooked up and on my way happy.
Mom was making lunch of home made vegetable beef soup and grilled ham and cheese sandwiches when we got home. Time to pack for real. The 50 pound airline weight allowance is my challenge now. The new printer w extra cartridge, my old hand tools, clothes, food, books and more had to be broken down to two fifties, a forty-four and back pack. We got out the scale and got both checked bags to around 48 pounds and ready to fly…
Dad was happy to help by cutting town the original stryo packaging to fit my suitcase. Man, when did he get soo old…Still sucking the cancer sticks while the stryo foam pellets stick to his face. In my head I am far younger than I really am. So seeing my almost 80 year old parents and funeral arrangements is quite the realty check. They take about asst care homes instead of Cruise Lines. They appear to have made a concise decision that they are too old to do anything anymore and that they will sit patiently waiting for their turn in the tunnel. A little fatalistic but Dad even circled the day he will live longer than his evil old Dad did. So, apparently he is free to pass after he outlives my grand pa. Only a few months away. Most of my friends parents have passed and they understand the hanging sword that is having old parents. They are like eight year old now and I fear the day they start to act 4 years old. I wish they come down here, they can smoke cogitates and watch the wheel of fortune, we have casinos and soon a fancy grocery store but it’s too much for them… They will make a poor estate sale, unlike the country club set in Ft Lauderdale. My bargain basement ticket on SW Air stopped in Chicago at Midway for an hour and then just a few hours later we left for Ft Lauderdale. Moods were a little ugly before we finally boarded two hour late mid day flight. And this time SW’s boarding scheme, C stood for center seat I had a liquored up yankee on one side and a sneezy wheezy corporate gal with Crackberry on the other, kicking and screaming new agey kids behind. Luckily I didn’t notice who was in front. I have never been to south Fl before and it is some thing to behind, clean and breezy, million dollar yachts and top less Ferraris.
An old buddy was eager to show me his adopted town and he had agreed to meet me at the Air Port, back in college Jim and I dated Mary & Lisa best friends and room mates for years. Has a creative out side the box thinker and was inspirational for me, introduced me to a entrepreneur spirit. Later he moved out east. He started the Needle Exchange in dark and staid Boston…But nowadays I didn’t recognize him at the airport. It has been maybe 20 years since I last saw him and 20 more since his last haircut. Down to his butt, still a rocker at heart…We rolled in his classic mile wide Lincoln Town Car so while moving we had automotive camouflage with the silver haired set in their Town Cars. Great food, great thrift store…pretty people showing off in a scenic way.. I like this Ft Lauderdale. It’s like a shiny post card. His newly divorced ex wife is a hot 30 something Russian woman who works for a liquor distributor. She has Central America for a territory.:. Insert your own joke here*
The faded 1960s upstairs condo is facing the waterway and the cool evening breezes were a treat.. Blue Crab enchiladas for lunch and later after more thrift storing we had some neighborhood Chinese food before Jake went to his gig playing piano and I headed off on the short last leg of the USA trip. First time on discount carrier Spirit Air, the staff seemed a little surly and a club soda cost 80 Cordoba’s. But my bags and I safely landed an hour or so late at 12:30 and with Paxoes Shuttle Mitsubishi SUV waiting I was back in my Granada apt before 2am.….Home sweet home…the ceiling fan had been off for a week and the sala (front room) smelled like opening an attic door in August, you could smell the heat like a sauce gone bad. Still good to be home? Lizard poo on the pillows and How many dead mice are there? Is that plants I hear screaming? Where‘s PeeWee?….next time:
Culture Shock and the land ladies declaw my garden
My brother in law turned 50 and the half century mark was celebrated at Casey’s Tavern out on old West Main. The surprise was truly a surprise being almost a week after the actual birth date. My sister was too drag him down to a favorite track side watering hole around six thirty. The place was open to the public but sis and her pals had bought a keg and brought in a huge steamer of shredded beef with greasy old fashioned twin packed boxed ripple cut potato chips and chex cereal party mix. I was hoping that the usual cliché “over the hill” jokes and gifts would be kept at a minimum. I am after all, older than the birthday boy. I gave him a medio of 7 year old dark FDC Rum from Nicaragua. But he also got a plastic dust cover for his dick, an over the hill t shirt and a for some mysterious reason a giant carved wooden Mexican chocolate whip? I caught the food saver analogy but the molenera? There was a newly effected no smoking law and many trips were made out side to “have a butt”. It was good to have the door propped open. I noticed this week that in the tropics the temp is gradual, slowly up and down. But here, it’s in and out…the store is cool, the car interior is hot, the outside air is frosty, the apt is 80 f, my body doesn’t know what to do, so I sweat. …..Anyway we all had a swell time joking about Rory, drinking beer and eating sandwiches. Was that Garrison Keeler?
My 17 year niece and her acned young boyfriend from the farm collected car keys around 9. I think she likes driving different nicer cars and she was disappointed about rentals cars rules and a little surprised that I was drinking water on the rocks. Drinking is a bit of a family tradition. Rory kept up the family honor and had a terrific time. But when the keg ran out the crowd so did the crowd. We took down the balloons and shiny aluminum decorations, wrapped up the giant left over B Day cake and my niece and I soberly drove everybody home.
Next morning things moved a little slow till we went to a Mexican restaurant. A popular spot. Good American style Mexican classics. My niece was concerned about me having eaten too much Mexican food living in Nicaragua. I explained that they were two whole different countries and while there are two Mexican owned and operated Mexican restaurants in my town. Most Nicas eat Nica food. Her teenage pal from high school asked what country Nicaragua was in? I think what impressed these modern mid western teens was that their wacky old uncle living some where in the jungle had a my space page….We went to another massive grocery store, bought more food and ate it while watching the Minn hockey team lose a play off game.
On Sunday my brother in law grilled up a bunch of chicken breasts and we had a big old fashioned Sunday dinner…We argued a little politics and I hope I impressed on him that you vote with your money everyday and that being anti corporate is very much about being pro small town mom and pop, all American blue collar down home stuff.…Around two I tanked up the rental car with ethanol at the Super America… I was off to visit a long ago friend who lives on a scenic 150 acre spread near Rochester Minn. Beautiful huge log home, wild life and horses on a spring feed duck pond. Okay I am jealous…But I know It took him 28 years on the job to swing the mortgage and I have not that much dedication to any job I have ever had …I haven’t seen him or the other guest of honor Donna in over 20 years. Some serious nostalgificaton going on now,…With photos. Great dinner, roast pork with wild rice and fresh little green beans, field green salad,…mmmm and new to me, Sulfite free organic red wine….All good to me. Red wine here in Nicaragua comes in a dusty old room temp wax box from Chili. I had heard decades ago that she had married a cult type reverend. They are still together, 2 kids and 20 plus years.. her husband reminds me more of my the bearded and cardigan wearing Presbyterian Pastor I had as a therapist than any kind of Jim Jones. Nice people, looking for answers and trying to help.
I headed back to Nebraska early next morning. It was 6:30 am and the sun was starting to thaw the brown farm fields. The wild turkeys were strutting around down by the pond and the donkeys brayed a fare well…Small town America on a Monday morning, I looked for a breakfast place but only saw McDonalds. Just a coffee, please.
I was 20 miles north from Rochester and had I went south at the twin lane dirt road intersection leading off the farm I would have been having eggs at a hip mom and pop near the fairgrounds. Great flea markets the Gold Rush and Orinoco, back in the day.. But I went north towards St Paul and Monday morning rush hour. Two lanes full of suburban commuters in Honda pick up trucks and Range Rovers. I had no real idea how to connect to the free way or even what freeway to take. I followed the plethora of state route signs till I saw one that I recognized.. Ft Snelling State Park…Kind of far north and east from where I am heading but I had heard the name some where back in time, park board dances dressed in fringed vests and bell bottom jeans. Sting ray bikes and John Lennon glasses so, I head west singing “When I Was Young” by Eric Burden, my eighth grade class’s song of the year…. I ended up finding my way from St Paul to Mpls using age old memories of riding my hi rise death mobile bike around the park system. Ft Snelling to Minnehaha falls…Little ways further to Lake Nicomas and my old neighborhood. It may not be direct but it was scenic and I headed out at 66th Street, the same way I had meandered in…A scenic hour and a half detour but it all down hill from here. South bound on 35W, 80 mph rolling with the big rigs and excellent public radio from Mpls. I got to Omaha in the afternoon and did a little computer printer shopping in Council Bluffs and Omaha, I was in a Target store, a Super Target, it looked like all the others but the plastic smell was like huffing gas from a plastic bag. I started to feel queasy and stepped outside. No more shopping. This gave me an excuse to have Runza for lunch. When I came back from India tanned skinny and penniless, I lived in my folks basement for 18 month while saving money to go to LA and attend the Gemological Institute of America. That’s another story.
I discovered Runza a Czech baked meat roll. A nice state wide chain, clean with great crinkle cut fries…I got to the folks round 5:30 and the meat loaf was ready..
I surfed the net on mom‘s AOL dial up, confirmed my tickets on SW and Spirit, finished an Ebay deal on a Nicaraguan Hanna Barbera Ricochet Rabbit bank and found a small b&w laser printer on Office Depot‘s web site. Next morning we went to a brand new barely shook open Office Depo store were a sweet, erstwhile missionary minded asst manager got me hooked up and on my way happy.
Mom was making lunch of home made vegetable beef soup and grilled ham and cheese sandwiches when we got home. Time to pack for real. The 50 pound airline weight allowance is my challenge now. The new printer w extra cartridge, my old hand tools, clothes, food, books and more had to be broken down to two fifties, a forty-four and back pack. We got out the scale and got both checked bags to around 48 pounds and ready to fly…
Dad was happy to help by cutting town the original stryo packaging to fit my suitcase. Man, when did he get soo old…Still sucking the cancer sticks while the stryo foam pellets stick to his face. In my head I am far younger than I really am. So seeing my almost 80 year old parents and funeral arrangements is quite the realty check. They take about asst care homes instead of Cruise Lines. They appear to have made a concise decision that they are too old to do anything anymore and that they will sit patiently waiting for their turn in the tunnel. A little fatalistic but Dad even circled the day he will live longer than his evil old Dad did. So, apparently he is free to pass after he outlives my grand pa. Only a few months away. Most of my friends parents have passed and they understand the hanging sword that is having old parents. They are like eight year old now and I fear the day they start to act 4 years old. I wish they come down here, they can smoke cogitates and watch the wheel of fortune, we have casinos and soon a fancy grocery store but it’s too much for them… They will make a poor estate sale, unlike the country club set in Ft Lauderdale. My bargain basement ticket on SW Air stopped in Chicago at Midway for an hour and then just a few hours later we left for Ft Lauderdale. Moods were a little ugly before we finally boarded two hour late mid day flight. And this time SW’s boarding scheme, C stood for center seat I had a liquored up yankee on one side and a sneezy wheezy corporate gal with Crackberry on the other, kicking and screaming new agey kids behind. Luckily I didn’t notice who was in front. I have never been to south Fl before and it is some thing to behind, clean and breezy, million dollar yachts and top less Ferraris.
An old buddy was eager to show me his adopted town and he had agreed to meet me at the Air Port, back in college Jim and I dated Mary & Lisa best friends and room mates for years. Has a creative out side the box thinker and was inspirational for me, introduced me to a entrepreneur spirit. Later he moved out east. He started the Needle Exchange in dark and staid Boston…But nowadays I didn’t recognize him at the airport. It has been maybe 20 years since I last saw him and 20 more since his last haircut. Down to his butt, still a rocker at heart…We rolled in his classic mile wide Lincoln Town Car so while moving we had automotive camouflage with the silver haired set in their Town Cars. Great food, great thrift store…pretty people showing off in a scenic way.. I like this Ft Lauderdale. It’s like a shiny post card. His newly divorced ex wife is a hot 30 something Russian woman who works for a liquor distributor. She has Central America for a territory.:. Insert your own joke here*
The faded 1960s upstairs condo is facing the waterway and the cool evening breezes were a treat.. Blue Crab enchiladas for lunch and later after more thrift storing we had some neighborhood Chinese food before Jake went to his gig playing piano and I headed off on the short last leg of the USA trip. First time on discount carrier Spirit Air, the staff seemed a little surly and a club soda cost 80 Cordoba’s. But my bags and I safely landed an hour or so late at 12:30 and with Paxoes Shuttle Mitsubishi SUV waiting I was back in my Granada apt before 2am.….Home sweet home…the ceiling fan had been off for a week and the sala (front room) smelled like opening an attic door in August, you could smell the heat like a sauce gone bad. Still good to be home? Lizard poo on the pillows and How many dead mice are there? Is that plants I hear screaming? Where‘s PeeWee?….next time:
Culture Shock and the land ladies declaw my garden
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
1 year in third world, now 2 weeks up north
Smell the Heat not the Plastic
By mid march the daily temps were nearing a hundred, by noon the heat radiated off the old clay bldgs of colonial Granada like the chrome exhaust pipes on those cheap Chinese motorcycles.
I had the back half of a round trip ticket on Continental. I changed it from Seattle to Omaha and went off to visit family and friends in the heart land of the USA.
I was hoping for cool , green and spring like story book spring weather but when I landed in Omaha the freezing rain was blowing sideways and the mercury stalled near the 32 degree mark. My elderly parents had braved the 75 mph I80 freeway to come 40 miles north and pick me up at the airport. The bad weather didn’t phase them nor did the tailgaters continuously trying to pass the old folks in the fast lane…
Back at the apartment we played Scrabble. We watched Wheel of Fortune the Weather Chanel, Deal or No Deal and we ate (a lot)….Both Beef Pot Roast and a Pork Roast for dinner one nite. Asparagus, cranberries and walnuts. Fritos, Doritos and Cheetohs, shrimp cocktails and breaded catfish. Fancy Belgian chocolates and tiny Mars bars, Crown Royal, Jim Beam and Tequila….What a country.
My folks like so many older folks have discovered Casino Gambling and food hoarding as their main hobbies. They have converted the hall closet into a pantry. Bags of oyster crackers and instant pudding, lo sodium Campbell’s and cans of tuna and other fish. Piles of bagged snack foods from the Aldi’s and pyramids of toilet paper and paper towels.
Dad knows I don’t share his interest in “gaming”, but he had to show off all his “Harrah’s” booty. Free gifts from the various Harrah’s he has chosen to be his beneficiary. He had decks of cards and Xmas cards. He had imprinted shirts and hats and watches. Comped hotel rooms and free buffets. All for “free” .
My mom is not a player, she likes to sit in the room and decide what to watch of the tv…Dad can stand on his feet all night…smoking a pack of Indian cigarettes and pulling handles or pushing buttons till the breakfast buffet opens..
I can’t help to feel that modern computer games with my dad’s Harrah’s Personal VIP card deeply inserted in them can push his buttons and work him like a two dollar whore. It knows how long he will play with out winning and how much money he can and will leave behind. Dad is a geriatric zombie, dazed by the colors and the seamless technology.
I gladly jumped in to the other past time of shopping. Mostly grocery stores, Walgreens and a few big box stores.
Here in Nicaragua there just isn’t that much to buy. Even the big international grocery stores in Managua couldn’t begin to compete with the mighty Super Saver in Lincoln, Neb. The Super Saver is huge, a massive temple to edible excess. Aisles of just pet food, even refrigerated fresh food for dogs. There is a giant Willy Wonka like wall just filled to the ceiling with self serve sweets, aromatic fresh donuts and tortillas coming off conveyor belts in the back of the store. Wide frosty rows of freezers blasting off chilly air and stocked with instant corporate miracle food as well as a thousand flavors of ice cream. I stood gaped jawed like Jethro Bodin watching fat people push not one but some time two carts packed full of prepared packaged goodness around the wide spotlessly clean store. They had Hot Pockets and frozen Italian meats. They had Mexican cheese and Greek olives, egg roll skins and all natural skin care products. The kids dripped fudgicles on their Sponge Bob t shirts while linebacker sized moms shopped for cheese in a can micro wave ready pot roast dinners, complete with potatoes and broccoli…Temptations abounded… I craved smoked turkey breast , pita bread with pretzels and a big Kosher dill pickle, Steak Ums, frozen White Castle burgers, tato tots,,,, maybe the spicy blue corn chips with fresh pico de gallo, Swiss cheese, edam, Colby and jack, but I bought Tom’s natural tooth paste, big jars of Omega 3 vitamins, stir fry sauces, curry paste, Cajun seasoning before I hit my luggage weight allowance.
The north west suburban side of Lincoln is spreading like weeds. Giant shopping complexes, big box stores and car dealerships line miles of wide new smooth roads. In one three block area there are two different home stores and three different office stores…For some reason Lincoln has always seemed richer and whiter than other mid western towns. The state capital and home to Pfizer Pharmaceuticals, Kawasaki Motorcycles and the University Of Nebraska….Go Huskers…
Lot’s of big shiny trucks driven by rosy cheeked professional people complaining about paying $3.35 for a gallon of gas while piling carts full of over packaged pseudo food, new plastic electronic doo dads, low use lite bulbs full of mercury, gadgets and the latest Hollywood toy fad into the cavernous cargo area of their massive Ford Explorer. But ….Be Green, Bring your own cloth bag…What a country
I love my ancient parents but after 4-5 days I needed some grown up time.
I rented a Nissan and hit some thrift stores and even a couple of old antique malls in the area…It was in the thrifts that I first heard anyone speaking Spanish…
I had a big shopping list but even with a third of it done I started to feel the economic burn and I tightened my purse strings…And besides I was going to have to buy some of that 4 dollars gas now too.
I took off the next morning to visit my sister and her All American family in Red Wing and then for Mpls. I lived there from the 7th till 10th grade and back again for college a few years later. The freedom of the road kicked in right away. I am not used to be cooped up in a small apartment with my folks so, rolling done the hiway with some rock and roll on the radio was a tonic. Only one thing missing to make it like that Tom Petty song…..
My folks had lead me to believe that it would take much longer than it did to reach Minn. Dad lent me a state map of Neb and a map of the USA in case I got lost. They don’t smoke in the car and they need to pee a lot so for them freeway driving is a tour of rest stops. Some of them down right spectacular. The Iowa Rest Stop near the Minn border has the fastest free wi fi I have ever seen. Down loaded some Amy Winehouse and made reservas at the near by Motel 6.…It was only 6 pm when I checked into to my old home away from home, the Motel 6. They had left the light on for me. I went up stairs and took a little nap and a hot shower before looking for a mom and pop eatery. I drove around for awhile but never found the town of Lakeville. Near the hotel was a McDonalds and a strip mall Mexican café called TacoVille. I opted for Minn-Mexican and ate hi school cafeteria sloppy joe style burritos for dinner.
Score on tv, a great documentary on PBS called Illict, Bill Maher on HBO and then the Simpsons in English. SWEET
In the morning I snagged a breakfast burrito and coffee at Mc D’s. The coffee was excellent, the burrito haunted me all day…. Good thing I didn’t have the steak.
I thought it would take an hour or so to reach south Mpls but I was forcing a hard exit off 66th st even before my coffee cooled down. I came off the exit and saw the once important Lynndale Home Nursery shut down and for sale. I worked there in the spring and summer in college. I new where I was now but back in the day I rode busses and bikes. I needed alleys and shortcuts to find some spots. I was riding the nostalgia wave now, 25 years or more since I graced these tree lined blvds. I passed Debby Dale’s house and Pearl Park (where my grade school band had it’s first gig) turned at Diamond Lake and passed the grocery store were I got caught by the cops taking a break from my early morning paper route and swiping dozens of fresh donuts from the outside delivery door. The folks got a wake up call and continental breakfast that morning.…Just up 58th and I passed all the neat older houses that my old 8th-10th grade neighbors and friends lived in. Living in 1960s South Mpls was the most Leave it T Beaver time of my life. It all came back and the cold gray day seemed warmer.
I cruised all the lakes, and the west bank near the river, Washburn High School, Resurrection Catholic School and Church, my old house at Lake Nokomis and the warehouse downtown where I lived as the nite watchman. I even saw the Mary Tyler Moore statue downtown…
It seemed so big back then but now it’s just over there.
The grey city was just coming out of winter, dead leaves and dirt covered everything with just the earliest of bulbs trying to poke out of the hard ground….It made the city center and old commercial streets look drab and a little forgotten. But the in town lake areas still house a flourishing middle class. These great two and three story homes built at the turn of the century expressed a erstwhile Lutheran optimism that happily still exists. It always been a nice town, pleasant blue eyed people, lots of book stores and employed folk supporting a music and art scene. But man is it cold…There was ice on the lakes and snow flakes floating in the air.
I was to be guest of honor at friends that nite so for lunch I only ate three White Castle Burgers and a small fry at one of the sleaziest places in the world.
If I had only had the stomach space for a trip to Falafel King…
I went to my college girl friend’s home for dinner with her best friend and her hubby that night and we had a lovely slow roasted pork roast on family china with wine in crystal glasses.
My friends in hi school and college are best described as the smart hippies. Whether any of us every were hippies is hard to say… But kids and car payments will keep you on the job…Most all of my old friends left standing are doing well….Lisa bought the house she grew up in from her folks estate. It freaks me out to visit. I knock on that big old oak door and fully expect her mom, the culture vulture old Mrs. Rotegard to answer. The oriental rugs and furniture still look the same and even includes my old monster stereo from the 70s and assorted odd old things from when we lived in sin. Mrs and I didn’t get along that well. After all I was the wild haired neer do well that had seduced her daughter and now we shared a tie dyed love nest. But Mrs R introduced me to estate sales with art and antiques. She and her pals in The Culture Vulture Club knew all about Oriental Rugs and sculpture, artists and 1920s craftsmen. She may have never blessed our cohabitation but she helped us furnish with wrought iron bridge lamps and Parrish prints. Her introduction to collecting influenced me more than maybe any other person. And It was her uncle Herbie that sold me my first car…a huge white one owner 1948 Suburban style truck called a Carry All.
The nostalgia wave is giving me a little motion sickness now. For me, Mpls is a place and a time but for those who never left it is only a place… So like so many 50 something’s I ask myself Where did the time go? When the heck did I get to be the old fart with 20 year old socks and a tattered bagful of war stories? I had wanted to ask specific questions about the time line of my college years. I have selective and some times purple hazy memories of the old days. But as I talked to my grayer and chubbier pals I realized everyone remembrances are subjective, it’s the flavor and the spirit of the events not the chronology that’s important.
But I still plan a questionnaire…….All for now,,,, part two:
Black Balloons in the Tavern coming soon…….
By mid march the daily temps were nearing a hundred, by noon the heat radiated off the old clay bldgs of colonial Granada like the chrome exhaust pipes on those cheap Chinese motorcycles.
I had the back half of a round trip ticket on Continental. I changed it from Seattle to Omaha and went off to visit family and friends in the heart land of the USA.
I was hoping for cool , green and spring like story book spring weather but when I landed in Omaha the freezing rain was blowing sideways and the mercury stalled near the 32 degree mark. My elderly parents had braved the 75 mph I80 freeway to come 40 miles north and pick me up at the airport. The bad weather didn’t phase them nor did the tailgaters continuously trying to pass the old folks in the fast lane…
Back at the apartment we played Scrabble. We watched Wheel of Fortune the Weather Chanel, Deal or No Deal and we ate (a lot)….Both Beef Pot Roast and a Pork Roast for dinner one nite. Asparagus, cranberries and walnuts. Fritos, Doritos and Cheetohs, shrimp cocktails and breaded catfish. Fancy Belgian chocolates and tiny Mars bars, Crown Royal, Jim Beam and Tequila….What a country.
My folks like so many older folks have discovered Casino Gambling and food hoarding as their main hobbies. They have converted the hall closet into a pantry. Bags of oyster crackers and instant pudding, lo sodium Campbell’s and cans of tuna and other fish. Piles of bagged snack foods from the Aldi’s and pyramids of toilet paper and paper towels.
Dad knows I don’t share his interest in “gaming”, but he had to show off all his “Harrah’s” booty. Free gifts from the various Harrah’s he has chosen to be his beneficiary. He had decks of cards and Xmas cards. He had imprinted shirts and hats and watches. Comped hotel rooms and free buffets. All for “free” .
My mom is not a player, she likes to sit in the room and decide what to watch of the tv…Dad can stand on his feet all night…smoking a pack of Indian cigarettes and pulling handles or pushing buttons till the breakfast buffet opens..
I can’t help to feel that modern computer games with my dad’s Harrah’s Personal VIP card deeply inserted in them can push his buttons and work him like a two dollar whore. It knows how long he will play with out winning and how much money he can and will leave behind. Dad is a geriatric zombie, dazed by the colors and the seamless technology.
I gladly jumped in to the other past time of shopping. Mostly grocery stores, Walgreens and a few big box stores.
Here in Nicaragua there just isn’t that much to buy. Even the big international grocery stores in Managua couldn’t begin to compete with the mighty Super Saver in Lincoln, Neb. The Super Saver is huge, a massive temple to edible excess. Aisles of just pet food, even refrigerated fresh food for dogs. There is a giant Willy Wonka like wall just filled to the ceiling with self serve sweets, aromatic fresh donuts and tortillas coming off conveyor belts in the back of the store. Wide frosty rows of freezers blasting off chilly air and stocked with instant corporate miracle food as well as a thousand flavors of ice cream. I stood gaped jawed like Jethro Bodin watching fat people push not one but some time two carts packed full of prepared packaged goodness around the wide spotlessly clean store. They had Hot Pockets and frozen Italian meats. They had Mexican cheese and Greek olives, egg roll skins and all natural skin care products. The kids dripped fudgicles on their Sponge Bob t shirts while linebacker sized moms shopped for cheese in a can micro wave ready pot roast dinners, complete with potatoes and broccoli…Temptations abounded… I craved smoked turkey breast , pita bread with pretzels and a big Kosher dill pickle, Steak Ums, frozen White Castle burgers, tato tots,,,, maybe the spicy blue corn chips with fresh pico de gallo, Swiss cheese, edam, Colby and jack, but I bought Tom’s natural tooth paste, big jars of Omega 3 vitamins, stir fry sauces, curry paste, Cajun seasoning before I hit my luggage weight allowance.
The north west suburban side of Lincoln is spreading like weeds. Giant shopping complexes, big box stores and car dealerships line miles of wide new smooth roads. In one three block area there are two different home stores and three different office stores…For some reason Lincoln has always seemed richer and whiter than other mid western towns. The state capital and home to Pfizer Pharmaceuticals, Kawasaki Motorcycles and the University Of Nebraska….Go Huskers…
Lot’s of big shiny trucks driven by rosy cheeked professional people complaining about paying $3.35 for a gallon of gas while piling carts full of over packaged pseudo food, new plastic electronic doo dads, low use lite bulbs full of mercury, gadgets and the latest Hollywood toy fad into the cavernous cargo area of their massive Ford Explorer. But ….Be Green, Bring your own cloth bag…What a country
I love my ancient parents but after 4-5 days I needed some grown up time.
I rented a Nissan and hit some thrift stores and even a couple of old antique malls in the area…It was in the thrifts that I first heard anyone speaking Spanish…
I had a big shopping list but even with a third of it done I started to feel the economic burn and I tightened my purse strings…And besides I was going to have to buy some of that 4 dollars gas now too.
I took off the next morning to visit my sister and her All American family in Red Wing and then for Mpls. I lived there from the 7th till 10th grade and back again for college a few years later. The freedom of the road kicked in right away. I am not used to be cooped up in a small apartment with my folks so, rolling done the hiway with some rock and roll on the radio was a tonic. Only one thing missing to make it like that Tom Petty song…..
My folks had lead me to believe that it would take much longer than it did to reach Minn. Dad lent me a state map of Neb and a map of the USA in case I got lost. They don’t smoke in the car and they need to pee a lot so for them freeway driving is a tour of rest stops. Some of them down right spectacular. The Iowa Rest Stop near the Minn border has the fastest free wi fi I have ever seen. Down loaded some Amy Winehouse and made reservas at the near by Motel 6.…It was only 6 pm when I checked into to my old home away from home, the Motel 6. They had left the light on for me. I went up stairs and took a little nap and a hot shower before looking for a mom and pop eatery. I drove around for awhile but never found the town of Lakeville. Near the hotel was a McDonalds and a strip mall Mexican café called TacoVille. I opted for Minn-Mexican and ate hi school cafeteria sloppy joe style burritos for dinner.
Score on tv, a great documentary on PBS called Illict, Bill Maher on HBO and then the Simpsons in English. SWEET
In the morning I snagged a breakfast burrito and coffee at Mc D’s. The coffee was excellent, the burrito haunted me all day…. Good thing I didn’t have the steak.
I thought it would take an hour or so to reach south Mpls but I was forcing a hard exit off 66th st even before my coffee cooled down. I came off the exit and saw the once important Lynndale Home Nursery shut down and for sale. I worked there in the spring and summer in college. I new where I was now but back in the day I rode busses and bikes. I needed alleys and shortcuts to find some spots. I was riding the nostalgia wave now, 25 years or more since I graced these tree lined blvds. I passed Debby Dale’s house and Pearl Park (where my grade school band had it’s first gig) turned at Diamond Lake and passed the grocery store were I got caught by the cops taking a break from my early morning paper route and swiping dozens of fresh donuts from the outside delivery door. The folks got a wake up call and continental breakfast that morning.…Just up 58th and I passed all the neat older houses that my old 8th-10th grade neighbors and friends lived in. Living in 1960s South Mpls was the most Leave it T Beaver time of my life. It all came back and the cold gray day seemed warmer.
I cruised all the lakes, and the west bank near the river, Washburn High School, Resurrection Catholic School and Church, my old house at Lake Nokomis and the warehouse downtown where I lived as the nite watchman. I even saw the Mary Tyler Moore statue downtown…
It seemed so big back then but now it’s just over there.
The grey city was just coming out of winter, dead leaves and dirt covered everything with just the earliest of bulbs trying to poke out of the hard ground….It made the city center and old commercial streets look drab and a little forgotten. But the in town lake areas still house a flourishing middle class. These great two and three story homes built at the turn of the century expressed a erstwhile Lutheran optimism that happily still exists. It always been a nice town, pleasant blue eyed people, lots of book stores and employed folk supporting a music and art scene. But man is it cold…There was ice on the lakes and snow flakes floating in the air.
I was to be guest of honor at friends that nite so for lunch I only ate three White Castle Burgers and a small fry at one of the sleaziest places in the world.
If I had only had the stomach space for a trip to Falafel King…
I went to my college girl friend’s home for dinner with her best friend and her hubby that night and we had a lovely slow roasted pork roast on family china with wine in crystal glasses.
My friends in hi school and college are best described as the smart hippies. Whether any of us every were hippies is hard to say… But kids and car payments will keep you on the job…Most all of my old friends left standing are doing well….Lisa bought the house she grew up in from her folks estate. It freaks me out to visit. I knock on that big old oak door and fully expect her mom, the culture vulture old Mrs. Rotegard to answer. The oriental rugs and furniture still look the same and even includes my old monster stereo from the 70s and assorted odd old things from when we lived in sin. Mrs and I didn’t get along that well. After all I was the wild haired neer do well that had seduced her daughter and now we shared a tie dyed love nest. But Mrs R introduced me to estate sales with art and antiques. She and her pals in The Culture Vulture Club knew all about Oriental Rugs and sculpture, artists and 1920s craftsmen. She may have never blessed our cohabitation but she helped us furnish with wrought iron bridge lamps and Parrish prints. Her introduction to collecting influenced me more than maybe any other person. And It was her uncle Herbie that sold me my first car…a huge white one owner 1948 Suburban style truck called a Carry All.
The nostalgia wave is giving me a little motion sickness now. For me, Mpls is a place and a time but for those who never left it is only a place… So like so many 50 something’s I ask myself Where did the time go? When the heck did I get to be the old fart with 20 year old socks and a tattered bagful of war stories? I had wanted to ask specific questions about the time line of my college years. I have selective and some times purple hazy memories of the old days. But as I talked to my grayer and chubbier pals I realized everyone remembrances are subjective, it’s the flavor and the spirit of the events not the chronology that’s important.
But I still plan a questionnaire…….All for now,,,, part two:
Black Balloons in the Tavern coming soon…….
Saturday, March 22, 2008
HEY ,,,,what's this
I have been posting stories and pics from my living in Nicaragua adventur on My Space but I wanted a grown up web site.
So stay tuned and I will start transferring and posting some tales from my Gaugin period right here
So stay tuned and I will start transferring and posting some tales from my Gaugin period right here
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