I returned to my favorite mountain eco hotel in La Concha, about an hour outside of Managua (see January 15, 2007 entry). I remain convinced that the tranquility of the Mariposa eco-hotel is mostly derived from living amongst their animals, which may have something to do with human nature and our several thousand year sustainable farming history, which, of course, is history.
La Concha celebrated its annual saint day on Sunday, which is basically a yay-for-our-lonely-mountain-town festival featuring the standard parade with the less than standard dancing horses. They really did actually kind of dance, bouncing up and down to the bass. A five year old boy, who must have won the coolest kid in town contest, got to ride atop a bull. Vendors sold cowboy hats, candy apples, and $1 lagers, and everyone there seemed to be wearing their finest clothes. A fat man paraded past weighing down a poor horse, and everyone noted that he was the richest man in town. El gordo, they called him, a universally understood description.
A common theme is many people in one vehicle, regardless of size. The hour-long microbus (basically, a minivan) ride back to Managua was a clown car. Men hung from the side of the open sliding door as we winded our way at 50 mph. We got off on the outskirts at a ritzy modern mall to catch some dinner and an American movie, and for a few hours I felt like I was in suburban South Florida. Insert amazement/outrage/despair over rich-poor dichotomy.
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