I sit at a small patio table outside of my modest but charming little hotel near Managua eating breakfast or “desayuno tipico” – fried egg, toast served with butter and jalea, a small bowl of gallo pinto, cafe con leche and juice. The geckos are singing to me through cracks in the ondulated tin roof over my head. Birds are chirping and a crisp December morning breeze gently passes, magically creating an orchestra of calm-inducing sounds among the leaves of trees and plants throughout the hotel property; especially the rows of bougainvilleas with soft white and bright raspberry colored flowers and lush green leaves, framing entranceways and gates and adorning walls.
The hotel is situated from the middle to the top of a steep hill, cleverly tucked up and away from a curvy busy highway. Today, this is my perfect spot to sit, observe and think.