Pico de gallo, queso, huevos, y tortillas. What else does a hungry Bozo need.
Back in 2014, this same group of Bozos, plus or minus a few members, were assembled in Nicaragua. I suppose that makes this the Bozo Redux Tour. Regardless, we find ourselves here in Granada, Bozos and Bozettes. Today was a walkabout day before the long drive from colonial Granada in the south to the working city of Esteli in the north. Nicaraguan brekkie is the foundation of any good day of travel, and so we indulged before walkabout.
The day was hot and the sweat was rolling, perfect weather for a stroll. The whole Bozo cotillion assaulted the square. It was as if the US Marines were landing to protect the interests of United Fruit. We toured the cathedral, viewed the newly-painted frescoes, climbed the bell tower. One of the frescoes included an image of a panda bear, another a biblical fellow cradling a tiger, all painted in almost day-glo colors. It was a sight.
Given the option of a bus ride back to the hotel or a bit of walkabout, I chose to ambulate. A few stalwarts joined me, despite the heat. Down market and up cobbled hill, we serpentined our way back just to the hotel, arriving in time to load up for Esteli.
Paul Klee's Unknown Granada Period
Glorious patches of colonial chromatic color left behind, the Bozo Bus plowed north, past volcanoes, past lakes, past the skinniest horses in Central America. We smoked, we joked, we dozed. Yes, in Nicaragua one can smoke cigars on a bus. At least on our bus. Damn the torpedoes and New-Age panda savers.
We pushed past Managua (all roads lead to Managua) and continued north, beginning the climb into the mountains. Playing tag with the long-haul trucks on the Pan-American Highway, we ground along as best we could. The spleandor of colonial Granada had long since faded to the workaday reality of Nicaragua.
This is the poorest country in Central America. The nation is half the size of the US State of Nevada and supports a population of 6.2 million folks. NIcaragua has suffered at the hands of many. The Spanish Conquistidores, and the Haciendo system that followed, did much to shape Nicaragua. The country was absorbed into the First Mexican Empire in 1821, not becoming a sovereign nation until 1838. Civil wars wracked the country in the middle of the century, fought between the liberal north and the aristocratic south. It was Leon versus Granada. Nicaragua even suffered the indignity of William Walker, a Gringo, declaring himself president. Revolts were followed by counter-revolts, the heavy-handed tactics of United Fruit, and intervention of the US Marines to back the fruit corporation magnates. Trouble followed NIcaragua into the Twentieth Century, despite the yearnings of revolutionary poets and working people. The Somoza family made Nicaragua their own little piggy bank. The dictatorship was a family affair, continuing until the Sandanista Revolution in the late 1970's. The workers and campesanos of Nicaragua have never gotten an even break.
The Bozos on the Bus climbed higher into the mountains. By nightfall we had arrived on the outskirts of our destination. Esteli, once a dusty town on the Pan-American, now the cigar production Capitol of Nicaragua. There will be far more to tell about Cigar-Town, but for us it was a welcome sight. We rolled into the Hotel Los Arcos, infamous to all in the Nicaraguan cigar trade. Bags were stowed, bottles of rum unstowed, and general merriment unfurled. The rest of the night, well, what happens at the Los Arcos stays at the Los Arcos.
Besides, the Bozos are here for the week. There will be lots to tell, even if I have to give out the names of the innocent.
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