Winter

The rainy season is for real. Every afternoon for the past five days the sky has collapsed on us. Above, you can see that the statue of Sandino is barely staying dry. I love the drama. Everyone scurries for shelter (except Mick, who takes advantage of the impromptu running water and bathes). Most of the roofs are tin. You have to shout to be heard. Recently I have worn several layers at night, which gets me thinking that perhaps it's time to buy real bedding.

A few words of explanation about the theater group: every evening from about 6pm to 8pm, Mick runs a rehearsal / improv class in the southern outskirts of the city for about fifteen teenagers and young adults. Most of them go neither to work nor to school. The class meets behind the gates of an orphanage. Several of the orphans take part as well. Saturday night we went out for a celebration dinner, for Mick and his wife just purchased a plot of land out in the Barrio on which they will build a community theater. It will provide employment (a bakery and a bar will be on the premises) as well as be the kind of shared public space for youth that is mostly absent in Nicaragua.

My role in the group is, at present, undefined. As my Spanish improves I hope to do some workshops on storytelling. What I do now is take part in the exercises and get to know the kids. They are fabulously patient with my fucked-up vocabulary.

In other important news I finally found the bar I've been looking for. A few blocks from my house in the opposite direction of the hostels. The few foreigners I met last night were chain-smoking Italians working on long-term humanitarian projects. An artsy Cuban film was projected on the wall.

And my novel is swimming along. The third draft will be done by Christmas (for those of you wondering, "where are the first and second drafts?", you are correct in guessing that they have been junked).

Applications to visit me can be submitted to:

heald.michael@gmail.com