We Must Be Living in a Vortex!

“I hate to say this,” said my attorney as we sat down at the Merry-Go-Round Bar on the second balcony, “but this place is getting to me. I think I’m getting the Fear.””Nonsense,” I said. “We came here to find the American Dream, and now that we’re right in the vortex you want to quit.” I grabbed his bicep and squeezed. “You must realize,” I said, “that we’ve found the main nerve.””I know,” he said. “That’s what gives me the Fear.”

Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Chapter 6, A Night on the Town…p. 47-48

I think I’m getting the Fear. Last night there was a 7.3 magnitude earthquake in northern Nicaragua, near the border of El Salvador. My cat, Queenie, tried to warn me. I’ve heard that animals are sensitive to movements of the earth. Queenie was exceptionally persistent in rubbing against me and kneading my belly. I thought she just wanted fed.

“What’s wrong with you tonight?” I asked as she dug her sharp claws into my stomach. “Do you miss your brother, Black Jack?”

Ometepe Island Mudslides and Destruction

Early Wednesday morning on October 8th, I awoke to take photos of the blood moon. The sky was inky black with clouds hiding the stars, as well as the eclipse of the moon. While I was standing on the beach, I shivered with a sense of foreboding. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was about to happen.

Thursday, the rains started. In 12 hours, we had 15 inches of rain. We lost our power early Thursday evening. Then, Friday morning, we had to walk into Moyogalpa to catch the ferry to take our very sick cat, Black Jack, to the vet in Rivas.

The rain sliced through the dark morning sky like sheets of glass. Our local beach bar’s ranchos toppled over like dominos.

Mama Said There’d be Days Like This

“Love is a piano dropped from a fourth story window, and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.” ~Ani Defraco

 

Two geckos were mating in our bedroom door jamb. Unbeknownst to us…we shut the door! Wrong place! Wrong Time!

It’s So Hot and Dry….

It’s so hot and dry in Nicaragua in April that….

The ice cream trucks are melting.

Goldie, our hen, hatched hard-boiled eggs.
The surfers in San Juan del Sur are surfing the web instead.
Our active volcano, Concepcion, retreated.
Our cold water taps supply hot water…when we have water.
You burn your legs sitting on a motorcycle parked in the hot sun.
You work up a sweat getting out of bed in the morning.
You need a spatula to remove your clothing.
Ron’s sweet potatoes cook underground.
The birds pull fried worms out of the ground.
We need snow shoes to walk into town over the dusty layers of sand.
Our flip-flops melt on our black sand beach.
When the temperature drops below 95 F (35C), we feel a bit chilly.
We renamed ‘Friday’….Fryday.
The Jehovah Witnesses on Ometepe Island are telemarketing.
The air smells like someone is ironing.
The fire ants are spontaneously combusting.
The birds are building their nests out of barbed wire.
The Catholics are giving rain checks for Semana Santa week.

The farmers say that the rain will start earlier this year. The rain usually begins in mid-May.  I’m keeping my dry and cracked fingers crossed. :-)

Credit for these jokes goes to many internet searches for hot and dry jokes. I only modified the jokes to fit Nicaragua.

 

 

Haiku Wind

In fury I sought
to outrun the wind, but I
scattered like pollen

High waves high wind

 January and February are typically months of strong winds. Off go the chickens, rudely forced from their night perches like tipsy dancers on an oil slick. Leaves tremble, trees once sentinel straight, bow to a demanding commander. High waves toss glass and pottery shards on the wind-swept beach, while volcanic sand blasts the shards to a brilliant sheen.

The Che is tossed like a toy boat

Howling winds invade the ferries and launchas like assaulting pirates. The Che is tossed around like a toy boat, resulting in a broken ramp when the hinges and chains were snapped like shoestrings. All transportation to and from Ometepe Island halts, stranding tourists and locals. Businesses waiting for deliveries, run low on supplies. Angel, the ice cream man, can’t deliver my ice cream sandwiches because they’re stuck on the mainland. The vegetable truck postpones a trip to our house until they refurbish their supplies. Plantain truck drivers nervously pace the dock hoping the overflowing truck full of plantains can be sold on time.

Our road stops beyond our house. Our neighbor needs a boat.

The beastly erosion ravenously eats away at the shoreline devouring everything in its path. Cradled in exposed clay banks, ancient treasures abound. Footprints of the wind flatten the sugar cane fields. A sail of a dugout canoe flies pregnant and engorged with wind. Sandinista flags flap with national pride. Green and pink plastic bags ( Nicaraguan flowers) drift on currents and collide in tangled splashes of color like an impressionist painting. The wind scatters swarms of complaining mosquitoes, while children shelter their faces grateful for the respite, yet teary-eyed from the blinding invasion of sand, dirt, and grit.

Nothing is sacred, nothing remains the same after a wind storm. The wind is a champion chameleon. ever-changing as it passes by, with the ability to make the earth bend to its forces, plead for mercy, and eventually surrender to its changes.

My only hope is that we can leave the island on Wednesday for our flight back to the states. If not gone with the wind, we’ll be seeking shelter from the storm.

 

Lightning According to Mark Twain

The lightning there is peculiar; it is so convincing, that when it strikes a thing it doesn’t leave enough of that thing behind for you to tell whether–Well, you’d think it was something valuable, and a Congressman had been there.
– “The Weather,” Mark Twain’s Speeches

I think Mark Twain was referring to the lightning in Nicaragua during the rainy season. Mark Twain was 31 years old when he crossed Lake Cocibolca in 1866. Unfortunately, he never stopped on Ometepe Island as he passed by La Isla on his way to the Rio San Juan. But, I’m sure he experienced the lightning storms from his little boat.

Today marks the peak of the rain for the season. From now on, it’s all downhill until mid-November when the rain will stop completely. We won’t see even a drop of rain until mid-May. In fact, last May, I asked a local when the rain would start and he replied, “On May 15th the rains will begin.” Sure enough, we had a storm on May 15th. It was a grand storm, too…howling wind, rain falling in sheets, and lightning bolts that lit up the sky for hours. It was a good opportunity to see how well our new roof held up in the first storm of the season. We were lucky…only two leaks that could be fixed easily.

In honor of the peak, it rained all night and all day. The lightning was spectacular. The evening show was worth the wait. Thanks to Cory’s friend, Sam, for taking this amazing shot.