Blog 3.5: Nicaragua in Images

“Oh dear,” sighs the faithful reader, “Chris posted another blog, there goes my free time.”

BUT WAIT. This is not a real blog.

First shout out goes to Mauricio: he is a gentleman and a scholar and I extol his patience in reading my sometimes schizophrenic monologues (read: blogs)

Second shout out goes to all of you who read my blogs (torturous as they might be) and for that reason I apologize about the rambling length of my last blog. Therefore [disclaimer] THIS IS NOT A FOURTH BLOG…otherwise I would have to apologize for the brevity–that’s ironic. What it really is is an addendum to the third blog in which I forgot to attach photos. So for those of you who have a non-diagnosable, but definitely real, problem with reading/focusing (like me) this one is for you.

The first photo is of Phellix and I on a kayak with my famous Indiana Jones hat flapping elegantly in the sea-breeze. This was the second week of the Heston Experience.

The second photo is Phellix and I in front of Augusto Sandino’s face. He was an inspirational guerilla fighter against the US occupation of 1909-1934 and is a reveered national hero today

The third photo is me doing what I do best: sleeping while standing up in the hospital while the doctors (pictured: Doctor Pinada and Doctor Lopez) rapidly fire back in forth in medical Spanish.

The fourth photo is me taking a woman’s blood pressure…with my moustache. I told one of the doctors that I thought it made me more professional so he giggled and told another doctor who laughed and soon I had three doctors laughing at my supposedly-professional moustache, vintage 70s. In shame, I shaved it the next day. Just kidding, it was not shame that compelled me, but rather a lack of ability to take myself seriously.

The fifth photo is me sewing the buttons back onto my gabacha (lab coat). I only stabbed my finger once, but it was worth it. You never know what you might learn in Nicaragua. Just kidding, mom taught me that when my size 32 waist somehow snapped the button off a pair of pants, but that was too long ago to retain the skill.

The sixth photo is the view from the top of one of the mountains in Jalapa. We began our hike at 6 in the morning and arrived to the summit by 7:30 and I felt like Lando Calrissian (I had to look up how to spell his name) from Star Wars. For those of you who are not fanatics, he was a mayor of a city above the clouds. I also just realized that Star Wars shout outs are far too common in my blogs.

The seventh photo deserves its own dramatized caption: When the Spanish explorers struck out from the Iberian Peninsula, making their way through the choppy waves of the Atlantic, they arrived in Central America. They found it rich in jungles, dangers, and natural resources–most importantly gold. So, in 1521, when the Conquistadores braved the wild jungles and made war against Tenochtitlan, they brought their fearless war dogs. When Christopher Dellana brazenly stumbled into his own Central American jungle, dripping in bug-spray and careful to avoid stepping on any snake or brush against any strange plant, he brought this little bundle of joy [see photo]. The hopeless dog cried and yelped out in fear the entire hike through the jungle, but, because it was even more scared of returning alone, it ran along with us, tail between quaking legs. Good thing we were not attacked by Indians, because all we had was one machete (the likes of which I called a sword to make myself feel more authentically like a Conquistador) and a war dog that might actually have been afraid of its own shadow.

Well family, friends, and supervisors: until the next half-novel,

Christopher Joseph



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s