Tuesday, November 24

See that dripping wet head? I fell in the pool. Hanne, Rodrigo and their baby Thiago came swimming. I was busy talking and missed a step and ended up underwater. I haven’t been under water since I was 12. I couldn’t exactly leave my guests and blow dry my hair (for the 2nd time that day) so I pretended I’d intended to be an outdoor girl. Not my finest moment. Rodrigo my attorney is reading my rental contract. He says they can kick me out with 30 days notice. I haven’t a leg to stand on. Nor a step, obviously. I’m going to cross my fingers and hope they’ve priced Casa Pilar out of the Nica market. The other photos: the homeless. they don’t even look for a doorway or any type of shelter. They just drop where they stop, and that’s where they sleep. The pedestrians simply step over them. Except for the blue tarp. It’s vacant today but usually there are two sets of feet sticking out of it. I think they stow their belongings underneath. And no one bothers anyone. OK, I’m a bad mom. I gave my turtle up for adoption. The doors to my house are always open except for the iron gates. Two days ago a man came to the house, turtle in hand, asking if it was mine. It had slipped under the gate and was toodling down the walkway to the stairs below. He brought it inside and put it in my garden. This morning a woman came to the door and pointed out the turtle casually making his way to the same spot. She brought him home. And then 10 minutes later another lady had him in hand, asking to whom he belonged. I questioned if she wanted a tortuga, she said sure, and the deal was done. If Yertl wanted to run away from home, who am I to say no. The woman seemed very happy to have a turtle. I hope he wasn’t a prized member of the owner’s family here. All my students are sick and sneezing on me. My teaching books have exercises about people “jogging.” Talk about foreign concepts! No one jogs in Nicaragua. I have to keep explaining, “correr rapidamente.” My mini-mercado around the corner se fue. It’s disappeared. The guys in the TV repair place next door told me they thought it moved to Ometepe, in the isletas. I’m devastated. I hate going to the supermarket because it’s so hard to get a fucking taxi and I was making the mercado my go-to fruit and vegetable stop. Now what? I haven’t a vegetable in the house. I bought some bananas and an apple on the street yesterday but I don’t think they’re vegetable replacements. I guess I’ll have to have the caesar salad every day at the Garden Cafe to get my leafy fix. No more BLTs.