Granada is built on the shores of Lake Nicaragua. In olden days, the rich or famous of Managua came to the lake to relax with their families and built huge homes that go unused by heirs who have moved to the United States or other foreign lands for more opportunity, better weather, or because they can. There is a huge park at the end of Calle Libertidad with open air discos, park benches and swings, nooks to enjoy a swim and cooler breezes. This morning, horsemen push cattle past as I stand in shade, out of the way. When one of the herd moves closer to the park’s grass, it is driven back towards the shoreline by one of the cowboys. A slight breeze moves leaves in the trees, water gently kisses the shoreline, and people have not yet begun to wake. Granada is a place where animals are important and a part of daily routine. This moment speaks of a more pastoral time when men spent the day with their animals, weren’t in a hurry, and lived well with nature. In the evening these cowboys will come back this way, cattle driven home by the caballeros, the lake turning pinks and yellows and reds as the sun goes down. Dogs will keep the cattle in a straight line and everyone will be hungry after a hard day of work. This is a small poignant piece of the nineteenth century still alive in the twenty first century. These days, we too are being driven, but it isn’t cowboys that herd us.    
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