Granada. A city of color. Vibrantly painted buildings line the streets: the greens, blues, canary yellows and reds shout out across the street to anyone who will listen. They crowd together, almost atop one another, competing for who can be the loudest, who can be the brightest, and whose very brilliance can intimidate mosquitoes the best. Mango trees tower overhead, slowly dropping heavy orange fruit to the earth, while birds, hundreds of varieties of birds, screech, yes, screech away any chance for peaceful silence. Nearby latino music is always blaring from a half broken sound system, the crackles and pops as much a part of the music as the guitars.
Every house here has an open center to it, a garden where green folliage explodes from the earth and soaks up the torrential rain every afternoon. The tops of palm trees and ferns tickle and begin to explore the red brick rooftops, poking their ears up to listen for a breeze to join in chorus with. In some houses a tv whispers out more latino music, and the streets are lined with idle kids throwing baseballs and riding bicycles.
The way to ride a bicycle is different here. Hardly anyone is on a bicycle alone, and the combinations are endless. Two friends will ride with one sitting on the bar and the other on the seat pedaling and steering. A man will ride with his wife or girlfriend on the bar, and it is common to see a baby bouncing along in front of her. The streets here are mostly cobblestone, with the occasional paved experiment. Potholes riddle the streets like a bad tooth, and driving, or riding a bike, is certainly an obstacle course game.
The smell of burning trash drifts over into my guesthouse from time to time, mosquitos hum in my ears and pierce my skin, and the overall state of my body is hot and sweaty. Its about 85-95 degrees here, always, and the humidity is on the side of a sauna. It is August in Central America, and that means the rainy season. When it rains here the dirt roads that line and explode out from the city forming the barrios, or ghettos, become muddy rivers, and animals take cover under shack housing. The sky thunders down, literally shaking the earth, and tourists are advised to never go outside during the downfall. Gangs see a travelor on a deserted street as easy prey for robbing.
The school that I am working at is adorable. In Granada there are too many kids and not enough teachers or school buildings, so each child is in class for half of each day, either in the morning or the afternoon. The organization that I'm working for has created two small schools, or escuelitas, where children can come during the other half of the day that they are not in public school and get help with their homework, or study new topics. I'm the biology teacher, and will be teaching whatever biology I can during the afternoons at one of the schools. My first lesson was about animals, both those in Granada and those exiticos, or outside Granada and Nicaragua. My spanish needs some help, so I am dedicating myself to the language in the mornings. So far, I'm loving it here, and am excited about the future lessons and the approaching comprehension of the spanish language.
