Saturday is laundry day, and trombone day.
Over the blue wall, next door, someone is practicing trombone. I was up late listening to Masterclass You Tube Videos by Hal Galper on jazz improvisation, hearing, thinking, the tribal attitude, musical tradition.
Learning to play jazz is like learning to walk, learning numbers and letters, reading, all over again.
You start at one note and then find the next one that sounds good. You put them in an order that is pleasing and play till you have it where it sounds good to you, and to an audience.
According to Hal, we don’t have slow hands, we have slow brains.
While I listen, and hum along, a lizard scales the blue wall, rests on the top ledge, looks over the other side. He catches the morning breeze.
Making sounds is one thing; making music is another.
I need to go practice.
Getting triggered by your surroundings, goes to the heart of Scotttreks.com
This Lagoon was formed 23,000 years ago after an explosion on one on Mombacho’s bad hair days.
It is fed by a number of surface and underground water sources and is one of the first Nature Preserves created in Nicaragua to preserve the country’s natural landscape.
In tourist season there are kayaks in the water, swimmers, picnic’s and family outings, hiking, diving and other recreation. The Preserve has public areas that give access to the water for free or private businesses that let you use their facilities for six to seven dollars U.S. a day. A round trip shuttle to the Lagoon is $15.00 from Granada, if you go with a group tour, and you can spend most of the day at the Park working on your tan..
This morning locals are washing clothes,bathing, swimming, wetting a hook, and kayaking . The water is unusually clear and the bottom of the lagoon is covered with scattered lava rocks, small and large, reflections of clouds floating on the water’s surface.
In the old days, Hollywood came out with a movie called ” Creature from the Black Lagoon. ”
Believing in things we can’t see is difficult, but it doesn’t mean they don’t exist.
One good thing about being human is most really bad stuff we aren’t going to live long enough to see.
When Mombacho throws a big fit, again, it will shake out this entire country.
Early morning, city crews are closing traffic on Calle Libertidad and an intersecting residential street.
An old fashioned wood electrical pole is going to be replaced by a newer fiberglass model,and new electrical lines are being strung to provide more service to a nearby house under construction, a house directly across the street from us spectators. This old wood pole sticks up through the roof overhang of a home that was here before the road ever thought about coming this way.
The city crew starts around eight and right after lunch power is cut so linemen can scramble up poles and reattach new lines in place of old ones.
The men in hardhats, overseen by their supervisors, do their tasks in an orderly fashion.
Onlookers sit on front stoops and watch the men work, traffic finds other ways to bypass the scene,and pedestrians lift yellow tape and squeeze underneath to get to their casa’s on this little side street off the main thoroughfare downtown.
When power is restored there are sighs of relief and the new pole doesn’t touch the old house though there is still a hole in its roof that someone will have to patch.
Civilization, these days, still goes only as far as roads and electricity.
We are all hooked up to all kinds of grids even if we only see a few of them.
Electric is civilization’s lifeblood.
Unplugging, for some, is a death sentence.
There are exotic birds in the pool area, some in cages, some free in the banana trees. Two of the caged birds are varieties of parrot and several others are parakeets. They are brought out by staff in mid morning and climb obstacles in their cages, hang upside down on swings, break sunflower seeds with stout beaks.
There are also two tortuga’s in the undergrowth by the pool. They are more difficult to find because they are not colorful and make no noise.
After looking, and not finding them, I give up the hunt till Security man Juan finds one and calls me to admire it.
The smaller of the two is underneath plant leaves and nestled in shade, in a moist area.
” No agua, ” Juan says, wagging his finger.
He picks up the tortuga and holds it in the air.
It’s hands, feet, neck and head remain inside its shell. It looks like a rock with a hole in the middle.
Tortuga’s make good pets. They eat leafy plants, don’t tear up flower beds, eat insects, are quiet to a fault, and hibernate if it ever gets cold enough in Granada.
Juan carefully places the turtle on pebbles but it doesn’t change it’s attitude of withdrawal.
I return to the pool and don’t hear a peep out of either of them.
All I hear is the rooster next door that wakes me every morning and struts all day, full of himself.
Tortuga’s don’t talk much, but if they do, I listen.
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