The Bearded Monkey

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I´m a little hesitant to write about this place in here because I know the minute Aunt Marilyn reads it shés going to spend all hours of the day and night worrying about me, so, Mark Patrick, this is where you come in. Be sure to be with her when she´s reading this so you can tell her, "Debbie is a smart girl and the world is really much more safe than you think."

The Bearded Monkey is a fabulous place to crash for a few days. I bunked last night with 9 people from 6 different countries. Most of the people here have been traveling for several months and one guy from England has been traveling for seven years. Ronen from Israel and I traded books. I had just started a novel and he had just finished one. Mine was fresh and clean and new and his was old and tattered and torn and I really wanted it so I taped the cover back on and happily stowed it in my backpack. He was happy with his new Michael Crichton novel and we exchanged email addresses.

I went in search of shampoo last night but the streets were crowded. Everyone comes out after the sun goes down. Horse drawn carriages roam the streets carrying people from one place to another and the cars are small, zooming down the streets without concern for what might be in the way. Speed does not appear to be regulated here.

People toss their garbage everywhere and it´s packed into the corners of every street. A starving dog wandered in and out of the chaos sniffing the garbage, searching for food.

We flew over an open dump yesterday while landing. It was close to a dirt road that was lined with shacks on both sides; a community of Nicaragua´s most poor. I have heard the people search the dumps for useable items. Nicaragua is a very poor country but that doesn´t seem to dampen the spirits of the people.

Yesterday I met Marco, a 60 year old cab driver who has two grown children who left Nicaragua during the Sandinista war. I gave him a shortbread cookie I had in my bag and watched as he nibbled at it. What I would have eaten in three bites without really even tasting, he savored. He said he liked it very much and I said very little after that. What does one who comes from excess actually say to a kind, sweet little man who has almost nothing?

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