Green Eggs & Mosquitoes

Jiquilillo – Leon, Nicaragua

Mosquitoes are a big thing in Minnesota. I mean not right now. Even the most hardy of Minnesota’s honorary state birds have a hard time come winter. And from what we hear it’s pretty cold in the North Star state – and snowy in some parts.

But you know where it’s not winter? Nicaragua. 

No cold. No ice. No snow. 

The upshot is there are plenty of mosquitoes down here. It’s actually been a little surprising; before Nicaragua we hadn’t experienced many mosquitoes. Maybe a few here and there in Guatemala, but basically not a problem. 

But here’s the other thing. These aren’t Minnesota mosquitoes. In Minnesota mosquitoes and hummingbirds are about the same size. Which makes them easier to see and swat. 

Down here they are these tiny little things. Size-wise, we would call them gnats up in the North Woods. 

Now, Diana hates mosquitoes. 

She hates Minnesota mosquitoes. 

She hates Guatemalan mosquitoes. 

She hates them with eggs. 

She hates them with ham. 

She hates them big. 

She hates them small. 

She hates them with dairy.

And she REALLY hates them with mala[i]ri…a.

I tell you all this because we learned a little lesson about these tropical places these last few days. It turns out they don’t spend a lot of time guarding against mosquitoes. The tropical mosquitoes aren’t annoying in the same way that Minnesota mosquitoes are. You rarely hear them buzzing around your ears. There aren’t as many of them. There don’t seem to be a lot of flies or anything down here. So unless you’re concerned about tropical diseases you probably don’t see the necessity for screens or anything. 

The place we stayed the last few nights was no exception. It’s a beach house owned by a surfer – and it’s meant to be an open air experience. 

It was fine. The beach was great. We met some great people. But after two nights of the place we were a little stressed out this morning.

It’s easy to forget that when you’re in a foreign country there is always a certain baseline of stress. The money isn’t the same. The language isn’t the same. The grocery stores aren’t the same. The customs aren’t the same. The food isn’t the same. The coffee and tea aren’t the same. 

And so, occasionally things like worries over malaria and dengue fever and such are going to push you over the edge. Such was our morning.

One or two other points here . . . We had arrived in Jiquilillo with no provisions – relying upon the town grocery store – which our airbnb host – who, I guess, grows pot for a living in California – told us would have “everything you’ll need.” 

Well, maybe if you’re a surfer dude . . . Lots of beer. No bread of any value. No milk. No yogurt. No pancake batter (Central Americans seem to love pancakes – so it’s a little surprising not to have any). No real vegetables. 

Oh, and the “bread” – super-processed nothing-burger bread – even that the ants discovered overnight and were crawling all over it this morning. (Another tropical thing to be aware of – tons of ants.)

Okay – enough of that . . . But our lesson going forward: we maybe need to guard against eating and sleeping arrangements that take too casual an approach to mosquitoes and bugs. It’s just not where we are at in life right now. 

Alright, now let me share some fun and interesting thoughts and observations . . .

Still really enjoying Nicaragua and Nicaraguans. Nothing but nice and friendly people. 

Let’s start with yesterday morning. I get up at about 6:15 – I guess the roosters have conditioned me. 

Before I can start the day our neighbor Macario comes by to let me know that if we want fish I should head down the beach because the fishermen are all coming back in now and this is the time to get them fresh. 

I walk down the beach to where the fishing boats are all pulled up on shore and then find all the fishermen in a little shack-like area. They are sorting their fish, weighing them, measuring them, cleaning them, and then settling up with the lady who owns the town grocery store.

There is a Far Side cartoon that I really love. The police are busting the door down and there are a few people in the room playing cards or something. One of the people in the room has a GINORMOUS head and the police are saying: “Alright, who’s the brains behind this operation?”

The lady did not have a ginormous head – but she is clearly the brains behind the operations of Joquilillo. 

Anyway, after standing there a bit trying not to get in the way someone asks me what I want. I’ve been practicing in my mind for a few minutes now and manage to tell them that I need fish for two people. They eventually give me three fish, I pay Ms. Brains-of-the-operation the equivalent of $3 and I’m on my way.

When I return to our place I grab some implements – knife and cutting board – and head to the beach to clean our péscadas. Before I can start, the neighbor boy appears. He helps me clean the fish and I have the best conversation/communication that I’ve had with any Spanish speaking person to date. 

The boy’s name is Richard. He’s ten. He wasn’t sure I understood so he drew the numbers – 1*0 – in the sand for me. He surfs a little. He goes to school but he has no school today. And he wants to go swimming with me later. 

On that topic, the beach was pretty incredible. Nice swimming without the crazy waves of Tampico. Perfect temperature. And no one around for miles. Seriously. Diana and took a walk on the beach and, I think, saw one other person. Crazy.

We get to know our American neighbors – Sue and Peter – much better as well. They went into town early and bought some oysters and they invited us over for dinner. Wonderful people. We fried up the fish and that was our contribution. Fun to have a little dinner party on a Nicaraguan beach . . .

(Diana wanted to bring one of her signature dessert items but, alas, the grocery had no flour…)

Sue majored in Spanish and still uses it in her work in California, and, obviously, to get around down here.

Peter looks like he’s 70 and moves around like he’s 60, but he’s actually 82. He has had a fascinating life and career. Lots of different pieces to it – but the highlight is that Peter can make anything. He has made super complex old concept cars; cars that were never actually produced until Peter made them. He has made amazing cars out of wood – like a real driveable car that can go 130 miles per hour! Just yesterday he finished making four beautiful wooden stacking chairs. All built with hand tools. The guy is a genius of design and patience and perseverance and engineering. 

Peter and Sue built a place down here after their son had moved down here to pursue surfing twenty-something years ago. Their son is still down here surfing and running a business providing horse tours or something for tourists. But the Nicaraguan woman he married is up in the States and has little interest in being in Nicaragua anymore. So wierd the way life works out . . .

Today? We have finally achieved some flat riding. It’s hot. But did I mention that it’s flat – with volcanoes off in the distance. We made our way to Leon – which so far seems like a nice town. 

On the way we met Pierre and Estelle. They were heading the opposite way from us. They are from France and they have been touring three weeks now. They started in Costa Rica and have been working their way north. Their plan is to get to Vancouver, Canada in a year. We exchanged information and hope that we can stay in touch.  

Last thing . . . 

One of the big takeaways so far in Nicaragua is the transportation. Lots of horses and bikes. People riding horses. People driving in little carts powered by horses. People biking for transportation. People giving rides to their friends and families on bikes. Bike taxis. 

We’ve seen some of this before. Especially in Mexico, people seemed to use horses for farm work. But my sense is that what’s really going on is that in Nicaragua people are just poor enough that horses and bikes are just how they get around. Which got me thinking. It’s kind of interesting – people only seem to use horses and bikes for transportation on any kind of real basis if they are either really poor or really rich (like Americans and Europeans). 

Those in between – like maybe Mexicans or El Salvadorans – they’re pretty much driving cars, motorcycles or mopeds . . .  I guess not as quaint to ride horses or bikes when you need to get something done …

Off to climb to the top of the biggest cathedral in Central America. Pierre told us that they had just done it and it was great. So we’re excited . . .

Tomorrow? Eggs – maybe green eggs – and then on to Managua.