Free garbage truck rides
The next morning Laura and I went to go meet Maria in the park, at 9:00, as we had planned. On the way there, Laura felt a little sick from a heavy night of drinking. I gave her some Pepto, hoping it would help, though the heat and humidity is bound to make the best of hangovers last a while. In the park, there was some sort of fundraiser for children with cancer and had something like 15 speakers blasting music, which was simply shocking to the system at that hour. We were a little late, and I didn’t see Maria, still doubting that she would show up. But, a few minutes later she walked up, and I immediately felt bad for doubting her. We decided we would walk, and we were off. A few seconds later, this truck was pulling up (like those army trucks with the back covered with some canvas…they use those here for mass transportation), and Maria said something and started running toward the truck. We just kept walking, but she waved us on, so we ran to the truck and, following her lead, we jumped on. So much for the walking idea. The truck has 2 benches on either side, facing the middle, which we were not lucky to acquire…we were standing up in the middle. The truck took off, barrelling down the road, the bumpy, hard road, stopping and going without consideration of the 15 or so people in the back. All we had to hang onto was a bar up top, and I didn’t think I would be able to hold myself up straight for long. I looked back at Laura, who I was sure would lose her stomach at any second, but perhaps not before she fell off the back of the truck, which was ‘secured’ merely by a chain.
The change in pace of the morning was rather comical. I really could do nothing but laugh; like, what the hell happened to our casual walk through town, and why was this guy driving like such an asshole? A young lady upfront holding what looked like a newborn baby started yelling at them after a little while, (Your mother, your mother! Apparently it’s just as rude in Spanish) and the guy took it a little easier. We got off soon after, and walked the rest of the way out and up to El Fortin. The views from up there were pretty fabulous, overlooking the entire city, although the smell coming from the garbage dump behind the hill weren’t as fabulous. Maria gave us a nice tour of the old prison, and we just sat up there for a while, taking in the view. On the way down, a garbage truck offered us a ride, which I thought was super cool. Mark that one down on the ‘modes of transportation’ list. Garbage truck. Gives ‘wading’ (home from Montrose Harbor) a run for its money.
Maria invited us to her little house (casita), and so we strolled over there. It was a little shack, one room. Her cousin (I think) and son (who’s actually her grandson, but her daughter left him behind and they haven’t told him) live there with her as well. Maria gave me an old Nicaraguan Sandino coin, which is no longer used, as a souvenir, and I gave her and her cousin a US quarter. A US quarter, though is worth about 4 cordobas, and I don’t know that it will actually be kept as a souvenir. Maria explained to me that the house is not hers, but the woman next door’s, who doesn’t want them living there any more, but she has nothing to move somewhere else. She started crying while telling me this, and it was all very sad. The good news was that she went to the hospital, which gave her a brace for her arm to hold it in place until she gets the surgery.
We left Maria’s house in time to get some lunch. Later on we stopped at the Museum of Traditions and Legends, housed in another old jail, and consisted of a bunch of creepy looking papier mache dolls; the sad part was that we couldn’t understand the majority of what the guy said. In the evening we heard a really great ‘latin music’ band, who, of all other things, played Radiohead’s Creep, being the second time I’ve heard that song now played by a local band…I also heard it the next day on the radio in a van. They must be big Radiohead fans down here.
The next day the girls were headed down to Granada, but I wanted to stop in Masaya for a few nights…they were supposed to have some festival on Sunday that I wanted to check out because it seems that I always miss the festivals around here. We all made plans to meet up in Granada, and parted ways.
There’s not much to Masaya, but I kind of liked it. It had been hit pretty hard by earthquakes a few years ago and is still building the town back up. On the one edge of town, there’s a beautiful outlook over a lake and some volcanoes (this is volcano country, folks), right by the baseball stadium. Did I mention that baseball is the #1 sport in Nicaragua, with soccer coming in second? Well, figure the mass influence of American military over the years, and it starts to make sense.
I got up extremely early the day of the ‘festival’, somewhere around 5:30, although I had been in and out of sleep for a while before I actually got up. (Now, don’t go thinking I’ve completely turned into some sort of early bird…to my credit, I had passed out around 8:30 the night before.) But, at 5:30, and even before, I could hear loud fireworks throughout the city. At 8am sharp, in front of the Church of San Jeronimo (who the festival celebrated), a little crowd of people swelled up, with a cute little tune coming from within. A marimba, a guitar, and some sort of little guitar were playing a little ditty, and little pairs of kids (between 4 and 9 years old) were dancing in traditional dress. A few minutes later, another little group walked down the street, with a sort of entourage, and they set up and did the same thing. Then another group and another, some with a little marching band of a trombone, a few trumpets, and a drummer as they marched down the street to the church. Then, they’d set up and dance with the marimba trio. Some kids were older…they maybe got up to about 18 or 19, and there must have been about 20 groups that filed in the whole morning. During the day, as I walked through town, I would find these little groups performing in people’s houses, or community centers, or wherever, until finally showing up at the town market to perform on stage in the afternoon. That was all there really was to the festival, but it was a fun little event, well marked with their firecrackers all day and way into the night.
One final note here…in Masaya I ran across the first casino I’ve seen during this trip. In fact, there were three. It’s interesting, given the mass amount of poverty here in the poorest country in the region…who’d think they’d have the spare change to throw in a slot machine. But, with the stakes high, ya never know…you could hit it and end your misery. The perfect way for the government of Nicaragua to raise money for themselves…to take it from those who need it most.
Tags: Nicaragua, Tag Index
Tania
December 8th, 2005 at 4:00 pm
Damn right they love their Radiohead! I hear they’re getting The Bends down there in the spring.