Grocery shopping madness

With Martijn gone and the supposed arrival of new volunteers, our little finca was in need of some new things from the “big city” on the island. So Sara and I embarked on a trip of what turned out to be one of those seemingly simple days where nothing much happens, but everything seemed to happen.

For starters, we managed to get our chores done early and we may have skimped on others in order to leave. After all it was still farm work we were doing. So while we gathered the harvest and I brought it up, Sara started our day off right with vegan crepes with tomatoes and okinawa spinach from the garden. Delicious.

We walked down to the bus, with only moments to spare in English time. We zoomed past Faber, one of our neighbors who always has a reason to stop by our place, off to catch the bus to Altagracia. We arrived at the main road at a sprint, causing the dogs near us to fly into a passion and chase after us. But luckily for us, buses run on Nico time and we were there early. And then it started to rain.

Sara and I ran for cover of a nearby locals house and we played “I Spy” and 20 Questions while we waited. The woman whose home we were using as an umbrella was gracious enough to give us two chairs to sit in and wait for the bus. An entirely sweet gesture which is so commonplace here in Nicaragua. Perhaps my favourite moment however was when a family of tourists passed by on bicycles with mud splatters looking like they had eaten something that disagreed with them and had to exit their bodies very rapidly. I laughed heartily, or more appropriately to those who know me, cackled.

Once on the bus, it was not long until we were joined by a rather large pig. Now I will state that while we were not strictly on the typical chicken bus, I never expected to be on a pig bus either. However the pig was probably as normal as the massive bunch of bananas in the back as well. In that way, I feel I have finally witnessed a hilarious new addition to the types of livestock possible on a Latin American bus.

We arrived in Altagracia and had about 30 minutes to kill before our bus arrived. The main plaza in Altagracia has a sort of mock-up model of Isla de Ometepe, including live turtles. Sara and I snatched photos while a Nicaraguan man and his daughter were watching the turtles. Together, in the shade of Concepcion, both real and miniture, we watched as turtles surfaced for air and submerged again in the tinted water. We also walked past the christmas tree made up of dried moss. It had the look of a once much loved christmas tree that fell into disrepair. A few years later those same people who once loved it realized that perhaps if they jazzed it up with ornaments, it would be beautiful again. But it was not as beautiful as it once was, it just had that sort of Nicaraguan charm that I find so intoxicating.

We opted after our sightseeing to see what we could buy in the “supermarket” in Altagracia. I say this with quotations because it is nothing really like a supermarket, but compared to the other stores in Balgue it had what we needed. Specifically, spicy peanuts, “natural” laundry soap (which the woman told us had less chemicals), pasta, raisins, chickpeas, and 2 kg of sugar. We made it just in time to get good seats on the Altagracia to Mayogalpa bus. While we waited, a young Nico boy played some classics from the Back Street Boys and other such catchy tunes. Ordinarily I would have turned the radio station or plugged my ears, but somehow even something like the Back Street Boys brings back a sort of “expat” nostalgia that tickled at my heart that day. Sara and I sang along like fools.

Once in Mayogalpa it was down to business to find cumin, cinnamon, nutmeg, baking soda, a colander, lighters, brown rice, notebooks, and other such fine things. The difficulty was not knowing the word for baking soda. Which I finally was able to determine is bicarbonata de soda. Interesting though was the conversation that was needed to determine this. With my limited Spanish I walked into a supermarket and said “I need something for making bread, but I don’t know the word. It is small and white. Like sand.” Eventually she had that inspired look and said “bicarbonata” and I said that must be right. She wrote it down for me because she didn’t happen to have any in her shop.

Once all was said and done, and I had purchased my last find, baking soda, we headed to the Cornerhouse for some TLC. This came in the form of a smoothie. A delicious pineapple and papaya concoction which was cool and smooth and absolutely delightful. Then it was time to head to catch the bus headed to Balgue, perfectly late, like us. We sat at what I now realize was a casino and watched a single white man with 4 Nicaraguan men drinking rum at 3:45pm on a Monday afternoon. Oh, Nicaragua.

One thing I found particularly enlightening about our trip back was the following observation. Why is it okay to sing on a bus so long as you are sitting next to someone else? Both Sara and I took our moments to shine and sing nonsense songs, and took a moment to realize that if we had found ourselves alone, we would not be enjoying such a thing. Somehow the sheer fact you are not alone, suddenly gives you permission to talk nonsense or sing a tune without impunity. Other people don’t glare at you and tell you to shut up. They know you aren’t singing to your friend either, yet somehow it is acceptable. Common place. Strange.

Our arrival was greeted only by Dukie and the satisfaction of a day completed, where it was strangely one of the best days I had here. Something about the combination of the bus adventure, the grocery shopping, and hilarious conversations made it a perfect sort of day.