Managua, Nicaragua -- afternoon

I'm not sure how long I'm going to stay here in Nicaragua. I can say that I don't like the vibe I'm feeling here in Managua. For now, I'm laying low, after arriving here by micro-bus from Penas Blancas at about noon-time. I got to Lilli's house at about 1pm, only to find out that she's still in Costa Rica, and probably not expected here any time soon.

Fortunately, her family has been very nice and accommodating. I stayed here last night and will very likely sleep here tonight. However, sleep here is difficult since I sleep in a hammock, and their home is located on a main thoroughfare, where buses go speeding by at all hours of the day and night. Also, the heat here is oppressive. Luckily there is a breeze today. If not for that, I'd be sweating like a pig.

I must say that I have just experienced my second disappointment; the first being Ronald not showing up in Liberia, and now the second being Lilli not being here in Managua. Right now, I have only two tasks to perform. First, I need to get to an internet cafe to see if Ronald replied to my message. Depending on what I've received, my decision may be effected. Second, I need to go to a bank to convert my next traveller's check into cordobas. Even if I leave Nicaragua soon, I can change the cordobas into colones. I think unless I get an email from Ronald saying that he's coming to Managua on such-and-such a date, I will leave tomorrow morning for Leon to pass a couple of days. From there, I'll pass through Managua and head south to Masaya and Granada for a couple of days before heading back to Costa Rica by next weekend. But, if I receive notice from Ronald that he's coming to Managua, then I may wait here for his arrival to go east to Rama, Bluefields, and Corn Island.

The thing is, it's really a bitch here since there is no water here during the whole day. The water only comes at one or two or three in the morning, at which time Lili's mother collects water in buckets for the next day. Due to the scarcity of water, I haven't showered, used the toilet, or even washed my face. The only thing I have done is washed my hands. I really have to get out of here.

The conditions here in Nicaragua are quite deplorable. It is no stretch of the imagination to believe that this is the second poorest country in the western hemisphere. The people here seem to turn in two directions as a response. First, younger males turn to crime. I have been warned by Costa Ricans and Nicaraguans of the gangs of Nicaraguan thugs, especially in Managua. Also, walking in the Barrio La Fuente, here in Managua, Lili's parents have pointed out thieves and gangsters.

Lilli's father disapproved of my tattoo, thinking it may have symbolized some kind of gang affiliation. I explained in no uncertain terms that my tattoo is something good, something that I am proud of since it represents a part of my heritage. I explained that it is not my fault if it is misinterpreted by others.

The second response here to the difficult living conditions is to turn to religion. Lili's parents are hardcore evangelists, and they took me to their service last night. The experience was interesting to say the least. The service took place at a warehouse-type room just a few blocks away. And the atmosphere was very animated. Every minute or so, the speaker would ask: "Vive o no vive?!" and the crowd would answer emphatically: "Vive!!!"

Early in the service, I had to write my name and city of origin on a piece of paper, so I wrote "Tay Fallas - de Filadelfia." A few minutes later, one of the many speakers welcomed me and asked me to stand up. Everyone was clapping, so I stood up clapping too, and turned around to wave to the crowd behind me. Then I bowed in the form of a namaste to the speaker, and I sat down.

Toward the end of the service, after the pastor spoke (claiming that no one can change their own character; only God can do that), Lili's father got up to deliver a very excited speech, saying that God was in the room with us. Most everyone had their eyes closed and were waving their hands in the air. Several women were crying throughout the excitement. Also, during the pastor's sermon, a young man remained prostrate, in the position of a Muslim praying toward Mecca.

Also, throughout the entire service, many songs were sung, during which everyone clapped and even shook maraccas. This was in accompaniment to the three-man band on stage: a bass guitarist, a keyboardist, and a drummer. The musical aspect of the service was very fun and entertaining. However, in general, the service had a cult-type feeling.

At one point during the excitement when everyone had their eyes closed and were shaking and crying, I made eye-contact with a young girl. She started laughing as if she realized the folly and false drama of the whole service; I couldn't help laughing myself after that.

Unfortunately, many people place all of their hope in the return of Jesus; they apparently have no hope for a better life due to the leadership of the government, or any other living mortals. That seems logical after the pathetic collapse of the Sandinista revolution of 1979. So far, this brief experience in Managua seems to presnet a certain level of lawlessness and disorder. The feeling is quite disconcerting and unnerving. For this very feeling, I want to be on my way very soon. I can foresee that I will be relieved to cross the border back into Costa Rica.

Today is Monday, March 3. I leave for the United States on Sunday, March 30. It's a shame that I look forward to fast-forwarding to my return to Costa Rica, and even then to my return to the United States. Nevertheless, this is my present feeling. As always though, I remain a slave to time.