Nicaragua Dispatch 2/24/2012 or Final Thoughts: In the Village the Mono Sleeps Tonight

I am in the Ecolodge pool overlooking Lake Nicaragua and the Volcan Concepciòn. The vultures are riding the updrafts from the Caribbean winds that sweep to the west across the lake, no doubt hoping for "Sopa de Turista." There is a gecko sunning itself on the rocks next to the pool, beneath the notice of the vultures but eying me warily as a potential predator. A couple of small parrots fly overhead chattering to each other about what is, no doubt, a domestic problem. It is, in a word, idyllic.

Actually, this happened about half an hour ago. I'm now by the side of the pool writing in the late afternoon sun as there is no way I would take the iPad into the pool. It was bad enough that I forgot and left my "water-resistant" watch on, though it is now drying out and seems to have survived the experience.

Nevertheless, it is idyllic. This part of Nicaragua is unspoiled, in both the good and bad senses of the word. To the good is that it is quiet, with not many people, and with a sense of not having yet been discovered, or having discovered itself. The people are friendly and tourists are not quite yet seen as the necessary evil they have come to be seen as in other parts of Latin America.

This morning Elia and I walked down the mile of bad road to the nearest village, which is little more than a crossing in the road with a few hand-made homes. On the way, we encountered a tribe of monocongos (howler monkeys) crossing the road. Their alpha male watched over them carefully and regarded me with some trepidation as if I could be a potential rival for his wives. I assured him I had enough difficulty with women in my life so that his mates weren't of interest to me but he chuckled a warning to me as if he weren't buying it. This is what Nicaragua can offer as a pure and innocent gift to the visitor.


On the other hand, the country is hard, and sometimes very depressing. Nicaragua is the second poorest nation in the Western Hemisphere. It's a long way from the disaster of Haiti, but poverty is everywhere here and will not be hidden. These are people who, like the Palestinians, have been overrun by so many cultures that they no longer have a cultural identity clearly their own. There certainly is a national identity and national pride, but it isn't backed strongly by the continuity of history.

On the same stretch of bad road where Elia and I encountered the howler monkeys there were partially built houses and homes that seemed to be constructed from the flotsam of central American life. Atop many of these houses was the red satellite dish of Claro, the big Nicaraguan communications company. 

This is most likely my last post from Nicaragua. Tomorrow we head back to Granada and on Sunday I come back to North Carolina. Do I want to come back? Maybe. There's lots of the world to see and, at least for me, a dwindling number of years to see it. I would like to see what the Nicaraguans do with their country, whether they succumb to the wants of foreigners like me or chart their own future.