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I’ve been many places.

Seen many things.

Done many things.

And then, a day happens that will remain a day to remember.

Thursday March 1st, 2018

The Adams family, who are on holiday in Nicaragua, went on an excursion.

A  new excursion.

Only done once before by the relatives of the guy who organizes all this stuff.

I’ll preface this with an apology to all the dirt roads we’d been on before the day of THE excursion.

This time there was NO road. Just tracks hacked out with machetes.

Traversing stream and small rivers.

Some shallow.

Some not.

Some narrow.

Some not.

Our guide, Diter Harold Acevedo Gazo Is fluent in English and easy to understand once you wrap your brain around his accent. I should mention his typical day.

Up at 3.00 am. Help the family. Shower and eat. Walk for one hour. On a dusty road. To catch a bus at 5.00 am. Arrive at his language school in Rivas at 7.30 am. Lunch break midday and school ends at 4.30 pm. Get home at 7.30 pm.

Back to our day.

We traveled on a double door pickup truck. I joined John, my eleven year old grandson. Standing on the back. Holding on for dear life. As we bumped along.

Often the “road” would split and Diter had to tell the driver which way to go.  If we took the wrong way life could have become even more interesting.

The truck died in the middle of one stream. I had visions of pushing. But after a while, when cooled down a little, it pulled up its big boy panties and started.

Our first stop was a brick making factory. A family concern with some outside help. Virgin soil from the top of the mountain. Fetched by ox cart.  Dry horse manure from the fields. Water from their own well. Wooden molds that makes six bricks at a time. A wood fired oven. Machetes to trim the bricks. Start to finish. Three weeks. And sold for 20 US cents a brick.

Our second stop got us involved. We made tortilla size pottery plates. Nice and messy. We named and dated our masterpieces and left them in the sun to dry. To be admired by the next group of gringos.

Next we were loaded onto an ox cart and took a “road” to a working farm. To milk a cow.

And if you think milking a cow is like riding a bike, think again. The most patient cow in creation accepted being fondled and squeezed and tugged on. Admittedly her back legs were tied together….

I’m happy to say I did extract a few feeble squirts. And remembered being a little girl. Outa Lou allowed me to bend in underneath the cow and would squirt fresh milk right into my mouth. Don’t gag. It was wonderful.

Off to lunch we went.

We were taught to make our own tortillas. Finely ground corn and water only. And had the most incredible Tamarind juice. The tree grows  behind the kitchen!

Home again on that open truck. Tired, dusty and happy.

Yup, a day to remember.

Creating memories for when I can no longer ride on the back of a truck or climb onto an oxcart.

Never fail to create memories.

Cyber hugs and Blessings All. Go out there and do something ridiculous!



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