Celebrating the dead
On the way into Leon, we passed a cemetery, which reminded me that it was the Day of the Dead, celebrated on Nov. 2nd. There were tons of people in the cemetery, with flowers and all or sorts of pretty decorations, but we passed by rather quickly…I wanted to check this out a little further. When I got into Leon, I found a hostel and ran into a guy I had met in Antigua, who told me the way to the local cemetery, and off I went. This was the liveliest (hehe) cemetery I’ve ever seen; it was like a festival. There were tons of food vendors, and ice cream men pushing their ice cream carts through the cemetery. Nearly every grave was being decorated in some way with candles, flowers, confetti, and all colors of paint (seriously…red, yellow, pink, orange, green, white, blue, purple). Local kids wandered around with machetes, offering to clear the grass and/or weeds for a small fee. Some of the graves were big monuments, some were small metal-bar crosses. Heck, some of them didn’t even have any monument, it was just a mound of dirt that had been trimmed of weeds and the soil turned. It was such an amazing celebration…a very joyous occassion, not mournful at all. Some graves were new, some were 100 years old, and they were all recognized. I think this is a great holiday, and people should start celebrating it around the world. Now get to it!
The next day, I did the standard, get to know the new town you’re in walk. In the Parque Central stands the largest cathedral in Central America. It is rather impressive, though might do better with a high-pressure-water wash. If you give a donation, you’re allowed to walk on the roof, which I did. The views were pretty cool, with several volcanoes surrounding the area. I also checked out the Ruben Dario museum, which is essentially the house this famous Latin American poet lived in. Inside, I met this crazy Cuban American guy. I’m still slightly confused about his story, but he just retired from the police department in Miami, and is now traveling in Central America looking for a dentist. Well, maybe not looking for a dentist, but he heard of a good dentist while he’s here? I don’t know. But, anyway, apparently he was a bad kid, “not too too bad, you know, just like stealing cars and stuff”, but then he got into the military and showed me some photocopy of a picture of him and his buddies “somewhere between Panama and Colombia…who knows where it was. We were following Noriega, but he was insane, snorting too much llello, running around, waving his sword, you know, because he was short. He was a really short guy.” He snapped a photo of me so he could “remember Tania from Chicago”, told me to “never trust anybody”, and then gave me a quick self-defense course, demonstrating the maneuvers in front of these Nicaraguan school girls who giggled when I gave them the international sign for ‘loco’ when he left. A minute later, he called me over and told me he wanted me to be his accomplice, and he crawled onto the chaise lounge that Ruben Dario died in and had me snap a photo. With that, he was out.
I went to the park to read a little bit, and a local Nicaraguan lady named Maria came and sat down to talk. She asked if I would like to see all the murals in the town and hear an explanation, so we went. She was quite knowledgeable about the meaning of the murals and all their symbols, and you could see that she was disturbed when reminiscing of those days. I asked her if life was better now (knowing extreme poverty still plagues the majority of these people), and she said it was. I guess knowing you can walk down the street without the fear of getting shot from the cathedral’s bell towers is a comfort I gladly took for granted.
As expected, Maria asked me for money. Twice. First for the school she works for that provides hearing aids to deaf childern, then for an operation on her hand, which she broke and could not afford to get medical attention. I could see was clearly deformed. I obliged both requests, and she offered to take me the next morning to El Fortin, an old prison and the Guardia Nacional’s last hold out in Leon, at a great spot overlooking the city. We made plans to meet at 9, although I was slightly doubtful that she would show.
Later at the hostel, I met a few English folks, Chris, Laura, and Dan. Chris actually lives in my old ‘hood in London and is familiar with my old local pub, the Salisbury. Oh the memories. We hung out a bit, and I tried all the local brews…Victoria, Bufalo, and Toña, the winner by a longshot. Also met some totally dumb California surfer dude with the worst surfer accent ever (I mean, beyond awful) who is buying all this Nicaraguan property with all his surfer dude friends and plans to monopolize the place. His target market is “girls”, and they’re going “big time”. He has a friend “in the top ad agency in America”, which he couldn’t remember the name of, but apparently, “You don’t have to be smart, you just need smart people working for you”. For a surfin’ good time, dude, call Brodie at 1.800.DICKWAD.
Tags: Nicaragua, Tag Index
Tania
November 16th, 2005 at 8:35 pm
Hi Honey,
How are you doing?
I’m happy that you’re getting the opportunity to travel and see the world.
I want you to now that i’m always thinking of you, “Please be careful”. (smile)
I also like the pictures you took, it seem like we are there with you.
“Have Fun”!!!!
Your friend,
Anthony
November 18th, 2005 at 8:23 am
Hey, just wanted to let you know that your Heparin Pump kits came in yesterday (HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH).
November 23rd, 2005 at 10:34 am
What’s a heparin pump?
😉