Matagalpa

Matagalpa, Nicaragua is a hard-working, busy, busy, in-your-face mountain city that I have made home for the last 3 years.

I basically rode out the pandemic here - our lives happen when we are making other plans.

I lived high on one of the mountainsides that flank the city, a house with a view and lots of wind. Weather that can change on a dime. Rainbows that amaze.

Cerro Apante. A hike and view worth the effort.

It’s an agricultural city where coffee rules. Most of you have probably had a cup of coffee that was picked by Matagalpino hands. High above the city, a cross lights up the sky and I’ve gone up there 100s of times with my dogs. Mountain biking is wonderful, along the clay, rock-packed roads but only for the very fit. There aren’t many flat sections here!

I will miss this beautiful city. Time is sweeping me onward.

For everything there is a season, A time for every activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest.

I will remember my good, solid, salt-of-the-earth friends. The fresh air and beautiful, lush green valleys. The hard-working, eeking out a living, machete men. The bustle of the town, the money changers, the shoe shine men, the politeness of people on the street, the chicken buses zooming and honking, the raging rivers, the street dogs looking for handouts. Cowboys and horses, cows walking right through town. Motorcylces, the modern horses. Finally, my own freedom to swing in my hammock and write my books and live in the here and now.

I’ll leave you with a few photos of my time here. The residue of a life I have tried to live honestly and abundantly. May you one day wander into this town - you’ll be better for it, if you stay long enough to appreciate it.

The national poet - Ruben Dario in his own park

Bustling streets. Nothing sleepy about this town.

Churches everywhere. It’s an old, christian city.

They killed off all the Indians but are still proud of their “native” heritage. It’s complicated.

Baseball - the Matagalpa Indians. Baseball crazy, all Nicaragua.

The Rio Grande. It rages when it rains hard, going over the top into the street and flooding the center of town often.

Did I mention rainbows?

A typical day in one of the parks. Matagalpa has spring-like weather, year around.

One of the side streets. Hustle and bustle. Sell. Sell. Sell.

My hammock survived 3 years of me swinging in it.

Dressing like the locals. It’s a cowboy, ranchero town. Bye Matagalpa!