FRIENDS

Jim here -- The previous entry to this blog dealt with our current living quarters. Being able to live in this particularly remarkable spot -- our little jungle right here in the middle of town -- is but one of the many pleasant aspects of our Nicaraguan experience.

What we've neglected to mention in our past posts is an even more pleasant aspect of living here, that being the diversity of the friends that we've made. They've come from everywhere, it seems, to this ancient city by the shores of Lake Cocibolca, the tenth largest inland lake on the planet.

Off the top of my head, I can think of folks here from South Africa, France, England, New Zealand, Canada, Mexico, The Netherlands, Brazil, numerous U.S. states and, or course, the local Nicaraguans who delight us with their company practically on a daily basis.

They have welcomed us with open arms for the most part and have made us part of this unique community for the past two and a half years. About once a month, someone will usually host a get-together of some sort -- movies, games, whatever -- and they always involve a feast and good conversation. These are people who have been places, seen and done things, and have stories to tell.

Neither Bubba, nor Junior lives here, at least not that we know of. I have yet to have anyone ask me how big was the buck that I shot last weekend, chewing tobacco is non-existent and folks have most of their teeth, even the old ones.

This is in no way meant to be demeaning of the multitude of friends we have back in the States. In my case, many of these are mentally handicapped musicians who will always be near and dear to my heart. Luckily, some of them are literate enough to be able to navigate FaceBook so that we can stay in touch and those who aren't at least are not in jail. That I'm aware of, that is. As to when will we see these folks again is largely up to them. They know where we are and we have no immediate intentions of heading back there any time soon. Better they come here if they would but only understand that.

So, Carol is about to book it over to Miguel's today, our Nicaraguan buddy who was trained in Okinawa and practices shiatsu massage and is adored here by everyone upon whom he places his therapeutic fingers. Most likely, when she gets there, he will be kneeling on his table with his hands together in some kind of Far Eastern prayer with sitar music going in the background and a big smile on his face. For an hour of bliss, he charges 300 cordobas, or the equivalent, at today's exchange rate, of $12.30.

I even let him get away with calling her "Sweetie." He's just that way.

So is everyone else around here, it seems.