Donde esta el Toro?

A crazy couple days have ensued.  Friday night, fabulous dinner with our friend Cammy.  Saturday, vowing to take it easy, we stayed up late drinking with our new friend Tobie.  Sunday, oh Sunday!  Monday, a celebration with Tobie on her last night in town.  And that brings us to today, Tuesday.  Sitting here at Imagine writing a blog instead of tackling the pile of work I should be doing. 

Let’s start with Friday night.  Our friend, Cammy, was nice enough to invite us over for a little dinner and a lot of wine.  Since we have been improvising meals on our beautiful Coleman stove in Kevin’s backyard, we jumped at an opportunity to cook in a legitimate kitchen.  She whipped up a hardy pasta with cream sauce, while I made a little garlic bread sans the use of an oven.  The meal hit the spot and the company added to the wonderful evening.  A couple of her friends joined us after dinner and we sat Nica style on the side walk, in rocking chairs,  watching the evening happenings over a lot of Flor de Cana rum.  We ended up crashing in a bed at Cammy’s place.  The first bed I have slept in for almost 2weeks.  It was beautiful!

Saturday we rolled into work.  I canvassed the hotels and Todd finished the website.   Check it out at www.Imaginerestaurantandbar.com .  Our goal, call it an early night.  The reality, a late night drinking with our new friend Tobie.  She has one of those commanding personalities that leaves you totally at ease and wanting more conversation.  So we had a couple drinks, laughed a lot, and made it to bed a lot past our expectation.  Over our evening conversation we decided to wake up early and check out the local bar by our place before the running of the bulls.

Yes, there is a running of the bulls here in Granada, Nicaragua.  Don’t think Pamplona, think chaos.  Before we could witness the running of the bull, we decided we should check out the local dive bar around the corner from our place, Ranchero Escondito.  I love a good dive bar, but I love a good local dive bar even more.  And this place fit the bill.  30Cords for a litre of beer.  That’’s $1.50 for a litre of cold beer.  Yes!  Of course, we were the only women in the place.   Today, I dressed in pants and a modest tank top.  No need to make things worse for myself.  So, we order some litres of beer and considering we were all dragging a little from the night before a little hair of the dog did the necessary job of rejuvenating us for the day.  Our plan, a couple of litres, then the bulls.  The reality, 10 litres of beer and a bull.  We did try to leave many times but the gentlemen in the corner kept buying us litres.

At first, you think, ‘well, isn’t that nice.’”  But luckily, Todd keeps his wits about him in these situations and saw right through these men.  Let me back up.  They were very friendly and entertaining.  I even danced a bit.  But down here you can’t always trust friendly.   We knew the day was going to be one with pick pockets and petty theft.  That’s what happens in big crowds.  So, I was packing most of the important stuff, money and cell phone in my bra.  As Tobie and I practiced our Spanish with our new “friends,” Todd got the low down from a street wise guy named Lenny.  Luckily, nothing happened at the bar.  We ended up having a great time, being a novelty in a place is weird, but makes for some good times.  We will definitly be going back to this place; around the corner, cheap, a good juke box, and not full of gringos…perfect.

So back to the bulls.  We left our new local paradise in the great pursuit of said bull running.  Even though this was a big event down here, very few people actually knew any of the details.  We wandered down to the Central Park.  Crowds of people, but surprisingly very few tourists.  It was definitly a local occasion.  Everyone was crowded around one side of the park, so we made our way in that direction.  The site was funny.  Lots of cowboys making their way down the street followed by a truck full of bulls.  Now, I don’t know exactly what happenend from there.  But without warning, the crowd start moving rapidly.  There was a bull!  Not running down the street, but weaving his path of destruction through the packed Park Central.  The excitement was unbelievable.  We were caught up in the movement before we even realized we were moving.  The group moved without warning.  I was pushed behind a tree by a grown boy trying to avoid the bull.  Each man for themselves apparently.  I was second guessing my choice of footware at this point.  Well, this moment climaxed.  I have no idea where the bull went, but the people moved toward the lake.  Was this the running of the bulls or the herding of the people?

Where the people went, we followed.  Stopping to pick up some roadies of Tona for our walk in the hot sun.  The adrenaline from the recent bull sighting left us amped to go on and see more.  It also trickered a hunger pain, so we bought hot dogs from the conveniently located hot dog stand.  Now, these stands kind a  freak me out, but this hot dog was great.  And only 15C or $.75.  Another bargain.  So, we walked and walked with the crowd.  Every now and then a wave of movement would surge, yet I don’t think anyone knew the cause.  As we wandered we chatted it up, about the odd circumstances of the day we had found ourselves in.  I met an older gentleman who invited us to the rodeo next weekend.  Oh yes, not just bull running, there are rodeos too.  We found ourselves loitering in the crowd outside a stadium.  Apparently, that’s where the coveted bulls were being kept for the moment.  We venture a little closer to the crowd, and just at that moment, a bull comes charging out of the entrance.  People run everywhere.  It was actually the people I was more nervous about then the bull.  One bull, thousands of people running around like idiots, which one would make you more nervous.  So we watch and move as needed.  Things start to die down again and the crowd starts moving to the lake again.  We regroup and just then I hear someone shout “gringa!”  And before I know it I feel the weight of a horse hoof on my right foot.  So I acted totally imature and screamed at the idiot horseman with some good old fashioned English provanities.  The locals who witnessed the incident laughed with amusement.  Todd apparently was on the other side of the horse and got side swiped by the horse’s shoulder. 

Tobie, the friend we were with, happens to be a doctor.  So she gave the foot a look and gave me the clear.  Obviously, not broken but bruised and caused by totallly irritating circumstance.  At this point, we break.  Todd and I head out to meet another friend, Tobie went to take a power nap, and we all promised to rendezvous at 8:30.  You can see where this is going.  Obviously, no rendezvous.  I was passsed out in a rocking chair back at the house by 8:30.

The day was fabulous!  I am pretty sure the whole town woke up with a hangover yesterday.