Mombacho Volcano is only two thousand feet above sea level but it has a commanding presence.
From the Vista Mombacho Apartments, as well as most places in Granada, you can see its summit with its halo of clouds, a reminder that we live on an active planet spinning through an unimaginably large solar system in an unmeasurable universe.
As you climb Mombacho, it gets cooler, and once you start hiking you lose sight of the sun, moving up and down narrow paths cut through the jungle. You step on stones and steps made from tree trunks. The canopy is over head and you wouldn’t want to get off the path because there are canyons and drop offs.
Water drips from leaves, ferns and trails are slick.
Jose directs our attention to a bromelia that thrives in this rain forest.
He explains what monkeys really like to eat.
There are monkeys in this rain forest, as well as jaqaurs and small mammals. None have reason to interact with awkward, loud humans.
After our lesson, we continue, cool, secluded, smarter.
The animals are watching us, hidden in the undergrowth.
Nearing the end of our trail, Jose takes a side trek to show us fumeroles.
At this spot, the Earth’s breath is moist and hot. There is a steady updraft of steam in columns as if it was squeezing up between clenched teeth.
If you believe in dragon’s, you would call this dragon’s breath.
When you lean over, the steam is warm, seductive.
I hate to leave.
Dragon’s cast deep spells.
It is always good to hear about red berries.
Walking in this rain forest we are truly in a different world within our world, surrounded by green, the smell of decomposing plant life, the sounds of unseen animals. The city, though not far away, is actually very far away. As we hike, our voices are captured by the space around us and it feels like we are being held here by unseen forces.
Whether you are on Mombacho in Nicaragua or in rain forests in Costa Rica, the advice is the same.
Don’t eat anything if you don’t know what it is.
Red is nature’s stop sign.
Jose makes sure we know that there are some things you are not wise to do in this preserve, even if temptation is strong.
Being tempted in the garden goes way back in human history.
The last time Mombacho erupted was in the 1500’s.
It is a strato volcano and deposited lava in its last explosion for miles around its base. The rich volcanic soil around the volcano is a bonanza for coffee, rice, and bean plantations that cover the agricultural lands stretching below us for miles. From our observation point at the mountain’s top we can see Lake Nicaragua, the Laguna de Apoyo, the red tiled roofs of Granada and thousands of green acres of fincas.
This morning Jose, our guide, leads Ur and myself, around one of Mombacho’s craters.
Nicaragua is in the Ring of fire that is a belt of earthquake and volcanic activity where the America’s meet the Pacific Ocean . Managua has earthquakes and Ur, from South Korea, tells me that that city, where he now volunteers, is still suffering from last year’s quake.
Visiting Nicaragua without visiting a volcano is like visiting Disneyland without going on a ride.
The chances are Mombacho isn’t going to erupt any time soon, but tomorrow can always spin out of control with one turn of nature’s dial.
When this sleeping volcano wakes, the Earth will tremble.
Abdallah Tours is on Calle Calzada. They offer tours at the same price most other tour companies do but having an English speaking guide is always desirable.
Mario, our guide for the Granada Islands tour, knows his subjects and studies while we sight see.
Enroute, he tells us about an old Spanish Fort that protected Granada from pirates and invaders, protected cargo going back to Spain in the 1500’s when Spain was not part of a European Union and had its own colonization programs in the New World.
This fort is a relic in a new world knotted together like a family of bickering kids.
It has value as an example of old history abandoned by the side of the road as new history marches past.
” We aren’t to feed the monkey’s, ” Mario warns, much to the dismay of my fellow tour boat passengers.
” Monkey’s are loco…..If you knew what I know you wouldn’t want to get close to them. ”
Our boat stops at Monkey Island and several of the small mammals come to the water’s edge to greet us.
One lone monkey scampers out on a tree limb, reaches his hand out, and a young tender hearted woman, in another nearby tour boat, gives him a treat.
This group of monkey’s was marooned here years ago and they provide entertainment in exchange for people food that isn’t even good for people.
Our foraging solo spider monkey, once he has his fill of handouts, leans down and drinks from Lake Nicaragua.
He might get hungry but he won’t ever run out of water.
Taking what someone freely offers you doesn’t count as begging.
This monkey and his business are not messing around today.
Lake Nicaragua is in the top five largest lakes in the world and has enough water to keep Central America hydrated for hundreds of years if the tap turns off.
Mario, our tour guide, brings out his map and shows us where the new Panama Canal is going to be built.
Looking at the map, he points.
The new canal will go from the from the Pacific Ocean to the Caribbean Sea cutting through the southern part of Nicaragua, using this lake and a new man made fresh water lake to feed water to canal locks. China is scheduled to start this new canal soon and the project will change this country forever.
” These islands, ” Mario continues, ” are for sale.” He puts away his map, gestures with his hands, and grabs our attention.
” That one, ” he continues, is owned by one of the wealthiest families in Nicaragua, the Pella family. They own the Tona beer company too…. ”
The good thing about owning an island is that neighbors are separated from you. The bad thing is some of your neighbors are living in galvanized sheet metal houses with boats dry docked in the yard and laundry hanging from makeshift clotheslines..
Men fishing in the river pause and watch us, then cast out their nets and pull them back in with tonight’s dinner.
When the sun goes down fires glow in the woods as day is put to bed and stories roll out of their bunks.
Most who live on this lake never want to see anything crossing it that ruins their fishing.
Baseball is played much the same everywhere it is played.
The rules are the same. The setup of the bases and equipment is much the same. The length of the game can extend in close games, be called off because of weather, or the daylight left in the empty lot or street where kids emulate their heroes.
Some games are played in massive stadiums with thousands of spectators, night lights, press boxes and entertainment. Other games are played on simple fields like this with chain link fences keeping spectators off the field and concession stands selling soft drinks and plantain chips.
This umpire calls the game as he sees it and there is no room for protest, no instant replay, no second guessing.
No one cares about skin color or political philosophies.
What counts on this field, is how well you hit the ball, catch the ball, throw the ball, help your team win the game.
When growing up, baseball was the national sport of the United States.
We had the New York Yankees, a multi World Series winning team with a barn full of horses like Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle, Whitey Ford, Yogi Berra, Coach Casey Stengel and many others.
One of the best players on the Pittsburg pirates was Roberto Clemente, an outfielder who was not only a great baseball player, but a great man.. When he was killed in a plane crash, taking food and supplies back to his ravaged Managua after an earthquake, it didn’t register because we didn’t know much about Nicaragua. People traveled less then and we didn’t have internet to bring the world immediately to us.
Baseball doesn’t take a lot of equipment or a lot of space. Most kids can catch a ball and swing a bat, and parents support their kids. On Saturday, Nino leagues start at the Lion’s Park at one end of Calle Calzada, around eight thirty in the morning,
Today, I watch the Sharks play the Academy and the Clementes play the Dissur team.
The game moves in slow motion because it takes longer for kids to throw from first to third, chase down balls in the weeds at the outfield’s edge, try to move under a foul tipped ball in the batter’s cage.
Some of the kid’s scowl at their team mates at a bad play, others kick their helmet on the grass after a strikeout.
One of these players will make it to the major’s, just like Roberto.
In the Nino League, the team that makes the fewest fielding errors, usually wins.
My Mombacho apartment is a few blocks from a neighborhood school attended by kids in uniform, carrying backpacks. They learn reading and math in the morning. In the afternoon, they assemble in the street in front of their school and little drummer boys begin a military cadence.
The parade practice goes well and considering children’s futures is my teacher’s hard to get rid of habit.
Some of these kids will go into professions. Some will be builders and others artists. Some will leave Nicaragua and not come back till they are old, sending money back to support their families. Some will end up in the streets, victims of poverty. Many will be mom’s and dad’s, contributors to the city and country.
These kid’s energy level is high and their enthusiasm is up.
When I hear drums, I fall in step, remembering my own school band days practicing marching at seven in the morning in a dusty dirt lot by the new Manzano High School stadium in Albuquerque in the 1960’s.
Practice makes parades perfect and these kids will represent their school well.
Education is always more than pencils, paper, and books.
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