Suchitoto

In the morning most of my group went on a walking tour of the town but I skipped it so I could take advantage of the pool.  After my first time in I noticed a strange looking bird circling the pool, dipping in for drinks. It then went to a corner of the building and hung itself up.  It was a bat!  I went back in the pool and it dive bombed me. I yelped and it flew off.  Then I noticed a huge hawk flying to a nest nearby, then circling, ending up in a nearby tree.  When it turned sideways I could see its long turkey like neck.  It was a turkey vulture!  Time to leave the pool!  Vultures have a great sense of smell but poor eyesight, and with my head the only part out of the water it might have thought I was lunch.

I moved to the bench just outside my room to write in my journal. Suddenly a shrieking ball of fur dropped from the building corner above me, then flew off in two directions, and back at me.  Two bats!  So much for a relaxing morning.  I walked into town to join the group for lunch and shots of chicha, the local moonshine, with limes sprinkled with brown sugar.

In the afternoon I went for a guided hike in Cinquera park close to the lake.  We drove a few miles out of town standing in the back of a pickup truck.   The civil war of the 80’s started here,  when the river was dammed to create this lake. Families were displaced, there were many suicides, and the farmers rebelled, taking to the surrounding forest to fight the military.  They met with communist rebels to learn tactics.  On the hike we saw trenches, a kitchen far from a camp to protect their position Vietnamese style, and a camp with a very basic surgery table.

To end the hike we climbed to a lookout tower, then down to a waterfall with walls around the pool, a local hangout place.

Back in the truck to the tiny town, we met with a man who had been a guerrilla fighter in the forest.  He told stories of shooting down military airplanes with machine guns, proven by evidence in the town square.

In the square was a mural that included a painting of a young girl.  She was 16, teaching children in catholic rites, and for that was taken to the square and tortured, mutilated and killed.  This girl’s gray haired mother was in the square sitting on a bench playing with children.  A horrific story, told as just one of many such stories that are part of this country’s sad history.

The church had been destroyed with people inside, but is now rebuilt from the original facade.  Tourist dollars have helped to rebuild the town that was a hotspot in the war.

Back in town, we walked to the square past the police station.  A truck was pulling up with camo dressed face covered men with rifles. The square was quiet on this Sunday night.