There once

Was a young girl from Nicaragua
Who smiled as she rode on a jaguar
They came back from the ride
The young girl inside
And the smile
On the face
Of the jaguar

Thanks to Salman Rushdie´s Jaguar Smile, I can tell you that that proverb is a lovely revolutionary allegory. Thanks to the years that have passed since I read it, I can also tell you I am about to mangle it. However, I believe that the jaguar is meant to be the people of Nicaragua, and the girl the revolution. First the revolution rode on the backs of the people, and then the people consumed it, were filled by it, and the people smiled and all were happy. I think the reverse can also be construed, but I prefer it this way.

Where Mexico is stunning, Nicaragua is wild. Where Mexico is difficult, Nicaragua is impossible. I was deathly ill within three days. One cannot even imagine asking about camping places. One sees signs for ¨prospective¨ tourist areas. Yet it’s so gloriously beautiful here, and pure jungle. In Managua, the capital (an ugly city, just what you might expect modernization to force onto the wilds, cement and telephone wires) I saw graffiti celebrating 30 years of Sandinista revolution, and was filled with joy. Until I realized that, as it continued for miles and miles, it could not possibly be spontaneous. but must be paid for and regulated by the party. Perhaps nothing here is real except the banana trees that line the horizon, and the jungle that rises to the sky on the sides of the volcanoes. That might be enough, though. For a country with such a fiery history, what I can see is mostly smoke, dust, bicycles, and green. But I love it here, with my second family, and the constant, massive rains.

I am in the airport. New York awaits me, I suppose. Onwards!