Our meanderings have taken us to another locale. From Granada, the colonial city, blossoming with the infusion of international visitors bring new cash to Leon, another colonial city! destroyed in the 1970s by revolution and only recently beginning to dig itself out from the rubble and tentatively spread its tattered wings.
Poverty envelops both cities. Tourists push through, seemingly oblivious.
The people who live in these cities have nothing. They are happy, though, because they know nothing else.
They are happy because they have what they need. They are happy because they have their families.
They talk loudly. They cram three deep into buses. They eat under umbrellas at plastic tables in a media of the Pan American Highway. They sleep with their children on blankets folded over cinder blocks under corrugated tin roofs. The children are content with a single toy.
Art is not confined to galleries. Poetry is cause for festivals.
People walk and ride their bikes because they don’t own cars. Few but the fortunate have need of a gym. Even getting to work is work. Where work is not available it is created…a makeshift restaurant on the street or in a cart, a basket of fruit or household items carried aloft and always for sale, a bicycle with a cart used as a taxi…
And – always – a smile.