I was worried that I wouldn’t have anything to blog about on my last night here. The last two days have passed uneventfully, with me mostly working during the day and walking around at night in the lovely evening air.
And then at 9:45 tonight, the landlord showed up.
He brought with him “Doug,” the expat Canadian who has lived in Granada for 12 years and is taking over property management duties. Doug had been by the house a few times in the last week to poke around and do minor maintenance and otherwise interrupt the peace.
The landlord proceeded to do an extended walkthrough of the casa, featuring the following:
- Joked that the people next door had told him that they heard lots of glass breaking all week.
- Joked that a piece of pottery had a crack in it and that would cost me $50.
- Asked me if I broke anything.
- Asked me if anything broke while I was here.
- Asked me if anything in the house was broken.
- Asked me if anyone urinated in the bed.
- Carefully examined the insides of the kitchen cupboards, just in case I was smuggling the $1.49 set of dishes home to finally complete my Franklin Mint set of Crappy Plasticware of Central America.
- Disappeared with Doug into the extra bedroom for 20 minutes for reasons that were never explained.
At the end of all this, he sat down and faced me, and in his speaking style that can only be described as “deliberate,” once again encouraged me to post a review of the house on the online rental web site, saying “It certainly couldn’t hurt.” Perhaps he may be underestimating my narrative skills.
In the end, I got my deposit back. Tomorrow I get picked up by a shuttle bus at 9 a.m. (I hope) and I will lock the front door and throw the keys through the bars of the front window. That’s how checkout rolls in Nicaragua. I am sorely tempted to break all the stemware and smuggle four giant ceramic chickens home in my luggage, but alas I don’t think I could bring myself to do it.
And so ends another trip. Walking home from trivia at the café tonight — I finished 4th of 6 after identifying a Bee Gees song as Captain and Tennille — it was fun to notice how different Granada feels after two weeks. My first nights here the town was foreign and confusing. I clutched my money tightly when I left the house and walked with my eyes darting from side to side, imagining that at any minute a stranger might jump out from a doorway and mug me with a rabid goat. Tonight, as I strolled about the town I felt carefree and happy, my laptop loosely dangling from a backpack on one shoulder. I felt safe, happy and peaceful. It’s always amazing how fast a new place can feel like home.
Until my next adventures, thanks for reading. It’s meant a lot to have you with me.