Click here to Start from the beginning of my Nicaragua 2012 Journal
2012-01-19
Sitting here in the living area of the house where my wife grew up. She’s handling out some of my t-shits other family. Out the open front door I hear chickens and people, the road is right there a few feet away and I see bicycles laden with mother father and child, two-wheeled horse-drawn carts, motorcycles, bicycle people, carriages, dogs, bIrds and an occasional cart vendor. Waitiong for a cow as i saw in the streets of managua. The street is very crowded. It is divided cobblestone, with small trees in the narrow median.
My communication is very limited, although an occasional break-through in Spanish is well-received. I Can tell marcela is a little emotional as she has been away from her family and three children virtually thier whole lives.
One t- shirt just went to the neighbor who rebuilds old Honda motorcycles. I will go shoot in the shop while I’m here. When I say next door, in may as well be the next room if you are accustom to large american standard housing.
The kitchen (& one bathroom) is separated from the main house. It is made of cement block, with natural floor and a couple of small creaky tables you might find in an old shed somewhere in rural America.
The roof is open here with a lathe of timber & boards revealing the underside side of the clay tiles above. Several times a day someone while come by the front door ( no need to knock) and pickup some plantains (platino.) or tasty frozen slurpy in a cellophane bag from the freezer part of the fridge, or cold water.
The street is a free for all – take every kind of motion, kids walking, jupeople biking, playing, talking, and yeh driving, throw it into the street all at the same time…
just went with Raul (father in law) & Alisia to deliver empty bottles to her families shop.
tonight Lehia, Wuilber, Mardiella got me a birthday cake, great fun, Marcella and me with cake on our faces and a nephew made sure my camera lens had some sticky on it to 😉
