My Zepeda OM Martin Copy from Nicaragua

 
 
 
 

Yin and Yang of Managua Parties

Tale of two parties....Saturday night's party was great. What a treat, spending the evening with some of my closest friends in Managua. Sunday afternoon was not so great, sitting around like a hungover lizard, listening to drivel from a bunch of Nica freeloaders. More about that later....

But first, let me say that Saturday night's party was a fitting end to my party circuit in this hazy Central American capital. In all, about 40-50 folks from the Embassy community showed up, including a couple friends from the Manzanita mafia (a Spanish-Nica couple that we've come to know through our son's preschool). Let's see, I drank keg beer, ate chocolate cake, did shots of tequila, even played wiffle ball with some Americans and a Swedish couple (ahem, I even hit one over the house, which, in my book, is a homerun!). I let my hair down, so to speak....which to my good fortune, is all possible when you live 3 houses away from the gala locale....by the way, kudos and special thanks to the hostess that made all this possible.

Perhaps as a sign of how good a time I was having, I have no idea when I got home. All I know, is that I drained every last second out of the fun. As they say in sports, 'I left it all on the field'....

On the other hand, yesterday's 'despidida' was a different story. As some of you may know, I take tennis lessons here in Manangua. My teacher, the patriarch of Managua's most renowned tennis family, had been inviting me for some time to partake in a weekend 'lechon', or a Nica pig roast. One of his cousins owns a restaurant just outside of town, and knowing that my time is short here, I finally relented. It's not that I didn't want to go, it just seems that there is always something else going on.

So, around 10am, I show up with my tennis prof, at which point I'm really hungover from the previous evening's festivities. So, what do you think I do.....ahem, have a beer! Good grief!! So it went.... I spent the next 3-4 hours shooting the breeze with Jorge and a menage of Nica troubadours, ranging from close cousins, to just plain thirsty acquaintances. Around 2 pm, I decided that I'd had enough. I don't know if it was one guy 'offering' one of his female teenage cousins to me that did it, or was it the proclamation that 'Americans are narrow-minded'. Maybe it was the banter about American politics, revealing an ignorance that borders on a time in America when folks sat around the general store and waxed poetic about things they had no knowledge about whatsoever. I mean, where do you begin? But after all, I'd been invited for this farewell as a send-off, and I'd 'done my time' out of respect.

But, I'm afraid the Sunday Nica brunch left a bitter taste in my mouth. You see, when it was time to go, we asked for the check, which amounted to my prof's cousin bringing me the bill of over $60 and everyone sitting there, staring at me. Unfortunately, I didn't have that kind of cash on me. In fact, I'm lucky I brought much at all. So, I paid what I had, leaving me penniless, fuming, and ..... I still had to give my tennis prof a ride back into town. Not only that, I was letting half the restaurant use my cell phone, as they were all either too thirsty or poor to have any minutes on their phones.

I don't mind paying my share. In fact, in my time in Nicaragua, I've grown accustomed to the idea that, I'm a rich American in their eyes and am made of money. I'm the freaking money tree, nothing more, nothing less. That's the sad reality that prevents most anyone from making any real, genuine friendships in this country. I should've known better. Not only did I spend my Sunday afternoon away from my family, I wasted money on a bunch of freeloading drunks under the guise of 'oh, we're going to miss you....you're different from all the other Americans' nonsense. I can speak the local dialect, carry on conversations for hours on end.....Heck, I can even take my shirt off and play with my bellybutton like some deadbeat Nica drifter. But, at the end of the day, I just another foreigner to leech off of. Sadly, I see this as a metaphor for the greater struggle that goes on in this country.

I feel for the good, honest, hard-working people of this country. The ones like our nanny, a person I have the utmost respect for. Unfortunately, they are almost invisible, amidst the vast majority of those that I have come into contact with in Managua. Every day, I encounter those that cannot see me as an individual, only as someone to dupe and take advantage of. I'd rather be just ripped off in Huembes, than to know someone for a year or so, thinking that perhaps you are more to them than a pathetic handout, only to be disappointed yet again. It's like after getting punched in the gut so many times, you stupidly put your guard down once more, only to be wailed on one last time. Adios Managua!

Monkey Wrenches.....Government Style!

Looks like I'm going to have to part with some old friends here in Nicaragua. It seems our government has restrictions on shipping for our 'short-term' move to Arlington for language training. Everything under 37' long must be shipped to our 'onward' assignment in Bulgaria.

Hence, no crib, elliptical trainer, bowflex, kitchen table....and most importantly, a day of reckoning for Jamie's guitars...all 4 of 'em. Looks like I have to choose two to take with me. So....in the spirit of being a good father/husband, I have decided against asking my family to make room for 4 guitars in the trunk of the car this summer, in what will be an epic roadtrip around our great nation.

So...goodbye 12-string Takamine FP-400s.....adios antique 1925 Oscar Schmidt Carl Fischer all-Koa wood Hawaiian parlor guitar....hello eBay, hello cold cash and beer money for, what should be, an exciting summer to come. Who would've ever thought it would come to this! I'm keeping two Nicaraguan-made custom guitars, one I haven't even played yet. I guess if I don't get a fair price for the parlor guitar, I can ship it to some friends in Springfield, Virginia for safekeeping. (that's what I prefer really, the backup, failsafe Jamie gets to keep 3 guitar option...hehehe)

Ahh, the life of nomads!

Pay Attention!

So, I'm chatting with my folks today... talking about the upcoming move, current happenings with the kids, etc.... I didn't even realize that Tropical Storm Alma was rearing its ugly head off the Nicaraguan coast. You know, when the rainy season starts here, you don't really notice when the streets begin flooding.

From the trash-clogged sewer drains, washed out roads, to the merely befuddled Nica pedestrians, you would've just thought it a normal day. In all, it just rained....and rained some more. Didn't stop me from going to Masaya and chatting up Sergio Zepeda, the famous Nicaraguan luthier that is responsible for my first, and only classical guitar.




'Number 2'

Taking him up on an earlier offer, I commissioned him to make a replica of a Martin OM-45 guitar. (Here's an example) Let me just say, this was the guitar that Roy Rogers, Woody Guthrie, and seemingly every other songster of yesteryear made famous. You see, I have two great keepsakes from Nicaragua. Of course, there is Ewan!! Without question my favorite Nica of all!! Then, there is my classical guitar. So.....I'm going for 'number 3'..... perhaps 'number 2'.......BUT, never will it be 'number 1'!



'Number 1'

So it went today....I set out for the artisan town of Masaya, despite flooded streets, road disintegration, and a tropical storm slamming the Pacific coast....all for my Nica fake Martin guitar! We'll see how it turns out...the 'due date' is June 15th.

Winding Down in Managua Town

Well....the end is drawing near. That is, my adventures in Nicaragua are coming to a close. In the coming days and weeks, I'll try to do a better job with the 'little blog that could'. Actually, I don't even know what this blog is about anymore. I started out with the idea of a kind of a voyeur-ish look at life for an expat in Managua. For better or worse, that never really happened.

At first, there were stories of iguana fishing on the roof with the gardener (read: hot dog chunks, 10 lb. test line....and lots of time on our hands), extravagant piñatas, and even a good ole beach retreat. Then, it morphed into a sort of movie and blues review site....rife with stories of old blind bluesmen and classic movies that I've never seen. Finally, it devolved into a lazy ritual of posting youtube videos that I found interesting, interspersed with some random commentary about the expat life and our lives in general (at this point, I think Mom is the only one paying attention...um, 'hi Mom!').

So, as we wind things down here. Or, shall I say, when we finally decide to take this horse out and shoot it, I'll do my best to put closure on Managua. Who knows, maybe I'll start up another blog when we begin our year of Bulgarian language training in the States. (don't you hate it when folks say, 'we're from "the States"'? It's so.....Gen X.

Gone Fishin' in San Juan del Sur

Had a great time with some friends from Atlanta. We caught 15 or so mahi-mahi. Unfortunately, we had to get back to the children and couldn't stay longer. It was nice to feel 'free' again, but even nicer to see the innocent faces of our beautiful children. In all, a very relaxing weekend getaway.....a subtle reminder that Nicaragua is like an onion....as you peel away the many layers, you find varying textures and surprises.

Meeting Rod Carew

It's not often that you get to chat with a Hall of Famer. It's even more uncommon to do so at an ambassador's house in Nicaragua. A fitting 'birthday present', my encounter with 7-time batting champion Rod Carew was quite memorable.

A friend of mine made it happen...knowing what a baseball junkie I am, she made sure that I was able to meet with the 1977 MVP, as he was here in Nicaragua as a representative for MLB, conducting baseball clinics and whatnot in this already baseball-mad country.

As it turned out, I showed up at the ambassador's house and mingled with some co-workers, sipping on some rum, and before long, the baseball delegation began showing up. There were execs, a handful of Dominican scouts, and, of course, Rod Carew. Biding my time, I eventually got to chat with the famous Twin and Angel icon from the 70s. I think I may have freaked him out when I introduced him to a friend of mine as 'the only man other than Ty Cobb to win 3 consecutive batting crowns'. He responded with eyebrows raised, 'Some people know my career better than I do....'. So, at that point, I decided not to mention that I knew he had stolen home 17 times in his career, and that he and Willie Mays share the distinction of winning Rookie of the Year, the MVP, and a batting title.

What we did talk about was the state of baseball. You see, Carew is a purist. He explained how great the Canseco steroid thing would eventually be for the sport, ferreting out the cheaters and the one-dimensional ballplayers, hellbent on hitting 'jonrones'(home runs). I mentioned that my dad had always taught me to 'hit the ball where it was pitched', and he replied that was what he tried to teach young ballplayers. Notably, he mentioned a particular admiration for Japanese players, such as Ichiro, and he commented that pitchers, such as Nicaraguan-born Dennis Martinez, would do 'whatever it took' to get hitters out (read: cheat).

Interestingly, I found out that Carew was a former Marine, and he and Tug McGraw were very close to being sent to Vietnam. Seeing that everyone at the party was there to chitchat with Carew, I limited my time with him to a subtle 15 minutes or so, returning to the rum and coke circuit with some of my embassy friends. In all, it was a great night.....a perfect beginning for my birthday....

Midnight Hike of Momotombo Volcano

Well, it's about the craziest thing I've done....at least in awhile. Last week, a buddy of mine invited me to hike the Momotombo volcano with him, starting around midnight, and finishing around sunrise, providing great photo opportunities and a unique experience here in Nicaragua, especially since our time here is dwindling.

So, naturally, I accepted.

Seeing that you need special permission from the government, and there are no formal trails at the top, we needed a guide. Indeed, my friend's (Ron) neighbor is a French 'volcanologist', arguably the most experienced volcano climber in all of the region. So, upon arriving at the Frenchman's house in Managua (might I add, this man has a striking resemblance to fallen Romanian dictator Nicolae Ceasescu )

Joining us was 'Ceausescu's' nica wife, 2 Nicaraguan adventurers, and us 'chele' Americans. After a spirited drive to the other side of Lake Managua, we arrived at the foot of the volcano around 11:30 pm.....and off we went!

Keep in mind, I had already given everyone in our group the 'once over', meaning I had deduced that I would be able to physically match any of them on this journey, including the wiley 'Ceausescu'. So, we began our midnight journey up a set of switchback-esque trails, through typical Nicaraguan shrubbery and underbrush, until we reached a point where the trees were sparse, and the soil resembled black, sandy, shale.....crushed volcanic rock. Now, I'm no geologist, but I can tell you that is quite challenging, walking up a big black shale hill, taking two steps foreward, one step back..... So it went for....well, the next 2-3 hours.

Around 2am though, we had to take a break. At this point, I kind of realized what I'd gotten myself into. My friend Ron and the Frenchman were leading me on one of the those crazy journeys that you read about in a magazine. The two Nicaraguan adventurers had fallen behind by this time, leaving us battling 40 mph winds in our faces. So, we decided to wait for the lagging Nicas, and sought out shelter under a pathetic shrub. It was decided by Ceausescu that we should 'wait out the wind', and continue in an hour. So there we rested, laying around like some iguanas on uncomfortable volcanic rock.....Oh, did I mention that I completely forgot to pack any warm clothes or sufficient food. (I had a Milky Way bar and bottle of water).



3am. We continue on with our journey. By this time, the true nature of the challenge revealed itself. Due in part to a full moon, I could see the face of the volcano in it's entirety, and doubts began to creep in as to whether I could complete this journey. What was supposed to culminate in a 5-5:30 destination at the top had now become an 'I don't know if we should attempt this because I've never seen the wind like this' from trusty 'Ceausescu'. Adding to the bluster was the fact that clouds had completely enveloped us, limiting visibility severely.

6am. We're definitely not going to summit this thing anytime soon. Not only were the 2 Nica stragglers impeding our efforts, the wind was unbearable, literally picking us up off the ground if you weren't careful. It was also at this point that 'Ceausescu' explained just how steep the summit was, necessitating a frantic 'crawl' to the top...Um, have I mentioned that I'm afraid of heights?!.....



Shine a light on me.....ahh, sun breaks, still no sleep, no food, but I can see all around me. This is a good thing....kind of. Did I tell you that I don't care for heights? So, between 5-7am, I was part of the 'A-team', essentially Ceausescu, his Nica wife, and Ron....who I might add, is the craziest, most ambitious hiker I've ever encountered. He simply chews up mountains and spits them out! So, we get to the point of no return, essentially the 'end game', as we're faced with the last 100 yds. or so to the summit. You know, the part with the 'frantic crawl' to the top. I had previously decided to go for it, overcoming my fears, until Ceausescu's wife opted out. This woman admitted to around 300 successful climbs of the summit, and I was guessing that her good judgment aided her in this number. If she wasn't going, nor was I. You see, the wind and clouds were simply too much....



So, around 7:30am, we made our way down the mountain, taking a brisk 1 hour walk/tumble down the shifting volcanic rock pebbles. It was like downhill skiing on glass shards, making wipeouts less desirable. In the end, I made it down about halfway, where I waited for crazy Ron....and lo and behold, you could see him literally skiing down the steepest face of the mountain, like a crazed downhill skier with no skis. He made it down the face in 10 minutes, whereas it took me a good hour of rock balancing.



By the time we rendezvoused, I had no food, water, or desire to be on the mountain. Furthermore, we had both told our wives that we'd 'be home for breakfast'. Ha! So, by 11am, we made it to the car, completely wiped out, tired, thirsty, and hungry. We hit the road, listened to some Led Zepplin III, and weaved through the normal menage of Nicaraguan Sunday drunks. Aided by Jimmy Page and Fanta soda, we cruised back to 'civilization'....that is, until Ron's Jeep broke down and I enlisted the help of a drunk Nica to fetch us beers while we waited for the tow truck....but friends......that's a different story!!

Brodie and Ewan

Here's the latest of Brodie and his baseball travails....He really loves this sport. I think he got the 'baseball gene' from his Grandpops (something that his Poppy didn't seem to get!)

Brodie Baseball Part 2

Also, we shouldn't forget little Ewan!

Ewan Wants Milk

Baseball with Brodie

Baseball with Brodie

Watch Your Um........In Managua!

I normally don't condone toilet photos, but this is an exception.

Finished 'Linea del Fuego'

Originally planned to be a 25k, it was shortened to 23k, due to lack of runners. Instead, most folks opted for the 15k walk. Undeterred, myself and a handful of Quebecois and Western Europeans braved the heat, steep inclines (and more numerous) sharp declines, curious looks from the Nicas, to complete the trek to Masaya Lake.

We started at El Crucero, and moseyed our way up and down the mountain ridge, taking in the sights, with views of Managua, Masaya, Masaya Volcano, and finally Masaya Lake....Indeed, all things Masaya! At any rate, I completed the 'race' in about 2 hours, 40 minutes......For not training at all, I'll take it!
Here are some photos of the excursion.....Oh yeah, there were many cold beers and much delicious food at the finish line....

'Line of Fire' 25k Run Tomorrow

Well, I'm excited.....nervous, but excited. I've gone over the itinerary, studied the map....and now, I'm ready. Actually, I haven't been training as hard as my first half-marathon in Buenos Aires in 2005, but this one should turn out okay. To be sure, this 'race' is more of an informal get-together.

So, we'll see what happens. There should be plenty of coffee plantations, clouds, sun, and quizzical looks from the Nicaraguans. I may see some howler monkeys and, hopefully, the finish line.

...then, I can gorge myself with buffalo wings and pizza in time for the Super Bowl... Go Giants!

Don't Bring Me Down

Most of you reading this will try to understand what I'm saying. It'll be tough though, as living in Nicaragua poses a set of challenges rarely encountered by those of us fortunate enough to live in U.S. or Europe.

Now, with that caveat, let me say that I live the 'enchanted life'. Drinking smoothies in the morning by the pool, going to the gym, tennis lessons, practicing my guitar, I have the schedule/life of a teenager. I come and go as I please. In essence, I'm a 'kept man', enjoying the talents and good fortune of my wife's position in society. I work when I want, my schedule is flexible enough to allow me to literally watch my son grow up before my eyes.

So, what seems to be the problem?

Well, folks......living in Nicaragua can be heavy. Like any other foreigner, we employ a staff (in our case 2) of employees to help around the house. Whether needed or not, it almost seems like the right thing to do, as unemployment is rampant in Managua, and one is constantly reminded of the poverty and despair in what is the 2nd poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. As such, I constantly feel like a walking ATM machine, a microcosm of the relationship between Nicaragua and the outside world in general. As I weave in and out of traffic in my little privileged neighborhood of expats and wealthy Nicas, driving Mercedes SUVs and other fortresses on wheels, I am reminded just how profoundly different my life is from the majority of the world.

I was reminded of this fact again on Saturday, when Brodie's nanny was mugged by 4 young men, unemployed and thirsty for rum, as she left the stratosphere of our safe little haven and upscale neighborhood, to the streets of Managua. As is common here in Las Colinas, every Saturday, domestic employees embark on their long journeys back to the countryside, where they often have small children, families that they have left behind for the good part of 6 days a week. Our situation is no different, as Josefa shows up at work on Monday morning at 8am, staying with us until Saturday morning, before returning to her two young daughters, aged 9 and 14. At the middle and end of each month, the customary 'pay day', it is not uncommon for young men to lie in wait, at bus stops, and outside the entrance of neighborhoods such as ours, like sharks waiting for the sea lions to inevitably enter the water, knowing that the domestic employees, mostly women, are carrying two weeks worth of salary, at the very least.

Well, it happened to Josefa on Saturday morning, as she lost 2 weeks' pay, health insurance money, and clothes and food we had given her. Most of all, she was traumatized by the prospect of unfettered violence that awaits her every time she leaves our neighborhood. You see, the police will do nothing. They are merely here to collect bribes, as they are more or less a tax collecting device of the state. Anyhow, Josefa and her ilk make up a demographic of the country, well over 90% that simply doesn't matter in the eyes of the police. And, it's getting worse. Since the Sandanistan takeover of power in November, foreign investment has waned, businesses are beginning to fold, and the overall state of affairs is disintegrating. I sense that the scene that unfolded on Saturday morning will only serve as a precursor, symbolic of more heartache and sorrow for Nicaraguans in the coming year.

The United States, and the 'developed' world in general, has a legacy of providing financial aid to Nicaragua for a long time. Indeed, the relationship between the two has been acrimonious and unhealthy for decades. Unfortunately, most of the goodwill and aid that is sent here has ended up lining the pockets of the 0ligarchal government and its cronies, rarely making it to its intended use. Worse still, the Ortega regime has reversed course on improving transparency of government, tightening his grip on power, and overall, making it less hospitable to donate in the country. Its truly frustrating, as Ortega and his 'Bolivarista' counterparts in Venezuela and Bolivia bemoan the disparity of riches in the Americas, while any attempt to help is met with disdain and suspicion. The rest of the world simply wants accountability for the money it donates. While it is difficult to sit and watch people suffer, it is unacceptable to continue to give aide to a corrupt government that has a long history of graft and large scale theft.

So, I've come to the conclusion (my personal belief only) that Nicaragua needs tough love. So what if Ortega makes a lovely world tour of Algeria, Iran, Cuba, and Syria, decrying the American Imperialism and whatnot. So what if left-leaning organizations tout an idea that the United States is cruel and lacks compassion. Who cares if America loses yet another public relations battle in the world. It's simply the right thing to do. To Ortega and his cronies, Josefa and the rest of Nicaraguans exist only as a concept of working class proletariat. Who's going to help Josefa get home safely without being mugged? Who's going to provide the jobs needed to keep unemployed bands of young men off the streets and out of trouble? Expats are some of the best employers in Managua, that's a fact. Who's going to fill the void when they all leave, frustrated with the hostile stance of a government living in the past?

This place really brings me down.....The irony is, I often write here about the bluesmen of the American South, the hard times of my countrymen throughout American history. But, in the end, I have no concept of the blues, other than a cosmetic shell of geographic and cultural empathy. I don't know what its like to lose 100 dollars and wonder if I must put my children out on the street for lack of food. I cannot imagine this reality. But, in a way, it's heavy for me, knowing such a world exists, reminded of it everyday. The frustrating thing is, the more I try to help, the more I perpetuate the idea of entitlement from everyday Nicas. There is an attitude of "Ah, you are a Chele (European or American), so you are Daddy Warbucks.....give me a dollar". So, any act of charity only exacerbates the problem. If I give away a pair of shoes today, that person will dog me for a new pair tomorrow.

There is a traffic light that I must traverse on my way to the local supermarket to buy the things only a foreigner or wealthy Nica can afford. You know, meat, granola bars, yogurt, etc...As you may imagine, this is prime real estate for the desperate poor, and otherwise, to besiege motorists for handouts and charity. Well, generations of Nicas have laid claim to this intersection, and the seed of cultural charity has already been sown. For the children that stand here, in lieu of school, this is their education. The idea is perpetuated that foreigners are rich, Nicaraguans are poor, therefore, the foreigners should give money, no questions asked. So it goes with the Ortega goverment. At some point, we have to stop giving away shoes and force the government to make its own.

That prospect truly brings me down.

Masacre de las Moscas (Massacre of the Flys)

'Among the attributes of God, although they are all equal, mercy shines with even more brilliancy than justice'
- Miguel de Cervantes

Another day in the life.....Nicaragua style. In our ongoing efforts to pursue the high life, while representing the US of A, Kim, Brodie, and I invited some friends over for a little American style BBQ. Well, considering the fact that we're in Nicaragua, without a proper outdoor grill, nor any of the 'authentic fixins' for a legitimate barbecue, we made out ok.

First of all, it must be said that preparing for a meal here in Managua is far different from driving up the street to Kroger and perusing the vast, air-conditioned aisles, combing over brand after brand of various patés, Doritos, and Alaskan King Crab. In Managua, you take what you can get. In this case, we were looking for a decent pork roast. Luckily, there is a Bavarian deli right up the street from our house. I'm convinced there is a German deli and British pub in every city on earth! Anyway, so, we're lucky enough to be close to 'Managua's German deli'. I took a guess that posta de cerdo is the closest thing to a pork roast, as my vocabulary isn't exactly spot-on perfect with the various cuts of meat. It simply looked like a pork roast (it was).

By this time, you may be asking yourself, how are you planning to have a barbecue without a grill?! Well, that's simple.....The night before, you make sure there is plenty of Toña (beer) and Flor de Caña (rum), ice cold of course. Afterwards, you ask your pregnant wife to boil eggs, peel potatoes, cook bacon, prepare potato salad, and baked beans, while you do some intricate planning for the following day (plug in the crock pot). Next, you lightly sprinkle cayenne and black pepper on the aforementioned unidentified hunk of pork. After this, you will have much thirst, which is an opportune time to do a quality check on the Toña. Finally, you can put the 'roast' into the crock pot on low, to cook overnight. With any luck, the following morning you will have pulled pork sandwiches, potato salad, and a baked bean casserole......3 American classics! like the Constitution, Statue of Liberty, and the Golden Gate Bridge.

So it went.....the preparation of the barbecue. The day of the barbecue went well for the most part. There was much reverie and good times to reflect upon. We invited a family from Spain, and another from Japan.....logical don't you think? Here we are, an American family hosting a southern barbecue with an unnamed pork cut from a German delicatessen in Nicaragua, for a Spanish and Japanese family. At any rate, everything was going great. the kids were playing futbol/soccer (not sure what to call it anymore) and a 3/4 yr. old watered down version of baseball, while the parents drank the aforementioned Toñas.....a peaceful Sunday afternoon (despite the presence of our 'energetic' Labrador Retriever, Stella). Then, shortly before the feast of pulled pork sandwiches, it happened.......invasion of the flies...

Now, folks. I've seen some flies in my day. I once worked at a Winn-Dixie as a young lad, and I had to clean out fruit crates from an non air-conditioned warehouse. I've been around my share of filth in my life (figuratively speaking as well .....hahahaha). Anyway, I rarely have seen anything like yesterday. Hyperbole aside, the flies really began to wreak havoc on our afternoon. It must've been excruciatingly difficult for our Spanish friends, as they had to endure 'interesting' Japanese and American renditions of their language, all the while with armies of insects buzzing in their faces. This probably isn't what they had in mind.

Perhaps in response, but to my amazement nonetheless, I discovered a Spanish talent that I knew not existed. The country that brought us the toreador, Velasquez, and the siesta, also brought us the fly assassin. With much skill and dexterity, I witnessed an insect slaughter of biblical proportions. Luis, armed only with old country swagger, Marlboros, and plastic swatter, swept through a legion of buzzing flies, leaving carcasses in his wake. The killing fields grew, through the haze of Toñas and Managua humidity. Before long, he confidently passed off the baton to his offspring, Mateo and Carlota, who quickly made work of a few, until it was Uncle Sam's turn to mete out justice. I'm ashamed to admit that the americanos didn't fare so well.

In all, a pleasant way to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon......sans the flies.

Nicaraguan Soccer

Here's a little footage of Brodie and Mateo demonstrating the finer points of the grand ole game of futbol. I especially like the calisthenics.....

I'll Be Back Soon Folks...

Just a brief hiatus, celebrating the passage of time in a timeless place....Nicaragua. I'll be back soon, with a vengence... like MacArthur with fresh stories of 4-year old Nica parties, blind bluesmen, and maybe even a movie review or two.

Until then, I'll be basking in the sun on the shores of Coco Beach for the long weekend with some friends.

Firefox and Other Ramblings...

'A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and gets to bed at night, and in between he does what he wants to do.'

-Bob Dylan

Well, based on Bob Dylan's criteria, I'm the Donald Trump of leisure. I'm a lucky man, living an enchanted life. Yesterday, I attended yet another Nica 4-year old birthday party. It was a bit of a letdown, as there was only Johnnie Walker 'Red'.....no 'Blue Label' this go-round. Oh well, sometimes, I feel like we're the only 'middle-class' folks in this whole country. We either hobnob with the crooks, or we get with 'The People' (proletariat, for all you Marxists out there....)

So anyway, not much to report today....except for a little computer information/commentary. Sometimes, it is necessary to experience some degree of misfortune in order to find something truly positive in life. For example, I would've never found my lovely wife, had I not been used like toilet paper by my jezebel ex-girlfriend. Sure, at the time, I was heartbroken. I thought I had found the girl that would make my life complete, only to realize that things weren't what they seemed. In the longue durée, this experience opened the door for the discovery of true love, a good woman......and the opportunity to report from the outskirts of the globe....

Computers aren't much different than women. They're complicated, defy logic, supposedly make life simpler, and last, but not least, are a royal pain in the arse! Until yesterday, I had been using Internet Explorer, like 99.9% of the population, when i discovered a plague of sorts had infested my computer. Due to the nature of my work, I deal with a lot of unsavory sites, so this wasn't surprising. So, upon de-bugging and rooting out all the evil things done to my CPU, I read where Internet Explorer is particularly susceptible to this sort of thing.

So, I made the switch....Unlike New Coke in 1985, this radical shift has proved to be a complete success....so far. I now am the proud user of Mozilla Firefox

Folks, you should give it a whirl. If you don't like it, you can easily switch back to Internet Explorer. (And no, I'm not getting compensated by Mozilla. )

Big News In Managua!

Hello All,

Well....Some of you may know by now (we've been exceptionally quiet about this), we have big news in Managua-town. Kim, Brodie, and I are expecting an addition to the family this year. Kim is pregnant.....(I hope it's mine! hahaha.)

Her due date is September 12th. More news to follow... We think it's a girl, as Kim's morning-sickness has been exceptional. Only a girl could cause her mother so much trouble. Well, Brodie is very excited about this news, and has already began sorting out toys to give to his little brother/sister. How sweet and thoughtful....Like father-like son.......

Little Friends

I found this unwanted houseguest last night. Walking barefoot around the house is a thing of the past, as I encountered my arachnid friend waiting for me in the bathroom. Perhaps he was just giving me the Nica greeting. Well, I showed him some American Nike 'Shox and Awe', crushing his spirit (among other things) with my running shoe.

For the record, he was about 8 centimeters long.