Mango season and the rains begin

I'm just now holed up in an internet cafe waiting out a sudden rainstorm (and hence two power cuts that made me lose part of this entry) - the winter rainy season is finally beginning. But it's also mango season (you can buy a dozen small, ripe mangos for just around 10 pence) so I'm not complaining too much. Although it's so easy to eat a lot of mango (you can get a bag of peeled mango slices, about two mangos' worth, for 6 pence on every street corner) and apparently they have antibacterial properties, which are great until you eat way too many and they kill off the good bacteria in your stomach... Fingers crossed that doesn't happen to me.

At the moment I'm on a short trip out of Granada in the east of Nicaragua - travelling through the cattle highlands on my way to the Atlantic coast for a crazy music and dance festival called Palo de Mayo. I've learnt one or two moves for this dance, but it's so fast and mad that even my salsa-ing hips just can't keep up. So far I've visited small market cow towns and tiny tranquil pueblos, passing through stunning mountain scenery on the buses in between. Round here there aren't any volcanoes, although the land is still seismically active and the rocks are volcanic in origin, so the skyline is completely different to the dry, flat Pacific region studded with huge volcano cones. And it's relatively green too, although there have been such water shortages here, with the drought on (rainy season is way too late and still not as much as normal), that I've stayed in hotels without any water whatsoever. You learn to wash as and when you can... and not mind the sweat.

I had to pop in on the pretty village of Santa Lucia (my street in Granada's namesake) where I was befriended by a lovely family who took me in for the day, fed me, and the three young cousins aged 12 and 13 took me around all afternoon to visit their favourite spots. I met their friend Luca, who owns a piece of land up on the hillside and who showed me all his current crops (including the eponymous mangos). We then sat in his pristine front room for 45 minutes, trying to make conversation - i.e. I talked non-stop to fill the gaps because he wasn't the most conversationally-able (probably not getting that many visitors, especially from overseas). It was later that day that I headed over to the cow town of Camoapa, where I ended up in a restaurant/discoteca dancing ranchero, bachata and raggaeton with the local cowboys (everyone had either a seriously curved baseball cap on, or a stetson!)

Anyway, here I am now in Juigalpa: doing washing, catching up on internet correspondence and checking out the local museum, as well as eating fantastic beef and dairy products (yes, I'm still in stetson-wearing country). And tomorrow morning I head off on the bus to the river town of El Rama...