Aftermath

We drove only as far as Playa del Coco, as Lay Mey had to work that night at La Vida Loca; there was a Halloween Bash on. We saw Eddie, rented a room at a B&B, and went to L.V.L., where much fun was had by all and I lost at both pool and table tennis. Then we drove back to Jaco on Saturday, eventually arriving at dusk all hot and sweaty from the trip and anticipating long, long showers.

Where we found that the water to the house had been shut off with one day's warning over a bill of about $US 5.00, delivered the day after we left. (As far as we knew, all payment arrangements had been followed; we were in error.) There is nothing like not being able to flush a toilet in tropical heat to remind you of how essential modern plumbing is, and I cheerfully invite anyone who derides it to give it up.

It was too late to call anyone on Saturday, and on Sunday, there isn't anyone to call. I stuck a pot under the leak in the rain gutters that night for enough water to flush about once and our neighbour put his hose over the fence on Sunday afternoon, so I could fill up pots and pop bottles and so on for Jane; I 'showered' in the yard. We were not cooking because unwashed dishes here attract hundreds of little ants in minutes if you don't keep your kitchen clean. We couldn't go out because all our clothes needed laundering from the trip, except one clean outfit each that wouldn't be for long unless we had showers... all in all, a less than happy thing after the great fun and excitement of our side trip to Granada.

Which is why I didn't bother to post on it as it was happening; it didn't deserve official notice.

On Monday morning, an official was proclaiming to Ruth that he had been out on Friday and turned everything back on, even as nothing still poured out of the taps when we opened them. He then said he would be right out, and he was in half an hour, but he hadn't brought the right tools with him, and borrowed some from Chuck across the street, but the shut-off was broken - of which he was aware, he said, because it had broken on Friday... this translates to still no water. He went away. We just shrugged our shoulders and waited. After a while, six city workers showed up, there was a gush of water down the sidewalk as they replaced the shut-off, and the Great Drought was over with. Back to the business of business.

I have still not resolved to my own satisfaction the political feel of Granada. There is a big election coming up on the 9th, I believe, but there did not seem to be a lot of posters about the town. It has been touted by some as a referendum on the current government. An English language daily paper on the main desk in the hotel lobby had an article slagging former Sandinista leader and now-president Daniel Ortega, for arresting members of some NGO charity type thing or other on charges of corruption and money laundering; he had their computers and files seized too. The paper suggested that he was doing it to deflect criticism for failed policies. I think it is because ultimately he knows of no other way to govern. But on the other hand, he has nowhere near the power he had thirty years ago; he too shall pass.
Some of his offical posters seemed to me to have a little too much cult-of-personality, concerned-leader-knows-best tone to them, but remember, this is an outside opinion. I do not know, one way or the other, how the locals take him.

And I finally did see one of those movie cliche trucks with large speakers driving about loudly exhorting something or other. No one seemed to be taking notice. Obviously the details of daily life were more important.