He appeared suddenly on my left.
Because we arrived in León, Nicaragua, late last night we were tired so his presence did not register immediately when we left our BnB with glazed eyes. We came to spend three months here to avoid the cold Canadian winter — to experience life in a third world country, the second poorest in the western hemisphere after Haiti — to leave our comfort zone, test ourselves in a foreign land. This was not our first visit to Nicaragua so we already knew about her warm and hospitable people.
In the morning, following a hard travel day and a restless sleep, we had just stepped from our accommodation onto the uneven, narrow sidewalk, turning to our right. Out of thin air, he appeared on my left. A boy about 8 with large brown eyes. He said nothing. But he raised his hand, waving fingers frantically in his mouth. I stopped. Stared. Then he vanished.
Seconds later, my mind processed his gesture. The child was hungry. He was asking for food. In a vain effort at redemption, I looked around for him. He was gone.
Trying to forget his haunting look, I continued on with our plan. Our first task in this culturally-rich university city was to find a permanent address. We hoped to rent a casa near centro where we could walk to the cathedrals, parks, mercados and places frequented by locals. Of course, being North American, we wanted internet, a fully equipped kitchen, a clean, modern bathroom and any other amenities to make our life comfortable.
While we looked, though, I kept thinking, but what about that little boy? Where does he live?
As we searched, using BnB guest/host contacts, walking around looking for signs to rent (alquilar), frequenting tourist bureaus, visiting real estate offices, scouring the internet, we began to lose hope. Small casas we saw were too far away or else bare, dirty and dark shanties, begging for TLC, not in great neighbourhoods.
During this time of reconnaissance, we discovered other facets of life in León. Early mornings in our Paz de Luna (Peace of the Moon) BnB brought squawks from green parrots as flocks visited the inner lush courtyard with its running water fountain and plethora of tropical plants: birds of paradise, aloe, hibiscus, flowering cacti, sour orange trees; in the dining room we lingered over breakfast and the background music of legendary crooners singing old American standards like It Had To Be You. We listened to street noises: the enchanting clip clop of small horses’ hooves pulling old two-wheeled flat wagons along narrow, cobblestone streets. The sounds sent my mind tumbling back to a more seductive past.
