The road in (and out) of San Juan.
There is but one road in (and out) of San Juan del Sur. For the past month I have lived in a tiny little house perched above that road. The San Juan bay is ringed by small mountains and the village lays nestled between the mountains and the ocean. The single road follows the valley between two mountains where a small river meanders to empty itself at the north end of the beach.
There I am - perched on the 'patio'!
The silver 'shed' to the left is not part of our house - it actually has a separate 'apartment' in it. Sometimes we get neighbors.
Our little house sits on the roof of a small hotel. How it came to be built there I have no idea. It is a strange little thing, no larger than about 16 ft by 8 ft it has a kitchen, bath, small ‘sala’ and sleeping loft. The tin roof shudders sometimes as the wind howls around the house at night. Occasionally a bird will attempt to land on the roof, making an unholy noise of talons sliding and scraping on the tin as it tries vainly to find grip in the unyielding metal. From time to time a small pebble is dropped on the roof, startling me and begging the question: where the hell did that come from?
From the ‘yard’, which is the flat roof of the small hotel, I have a vantage point unlike any other in town. In the mornings I often take my coffee and perched on the side of the roof yard, legs dangling over the edge, (causing the gentle man who cares for the place endless worry as he imagines a gust of wind pushing me over the side) I observe the comings and goings of the town. Nothing can get past my observations - as everyone - beast, human, and vehicle alike, must pass under my eye.
A wooden cart pulled by two oxen rolls slowly down the road, while a speeding motorcycle, honking it’s approach weaves its way around the beasts. Following this comes a shiny white SUV with at least 3 surfboards strapped to the top, a few nondescript cars and then 3 goats. A semi truck carrying a load of bottles of purified water is honking and trying to get around the goats. Where, I wonder, is the goat herd? Now, there is my friend Kelvin (a transplanted Brit/Canadian/Calgarian ex-cop, he produces the local bi-monthly bi-lingual newsletter) walking into town. Will he keep going straight to his ‘office’ at Dave’s bar? No, he has turned up towards the market. Now comes a motorcycle with 3, no make it 4 people on it - the entire family - one child between dad and mom and the baby up front on the gas tank. Quads carry grandma and grandpa too!
I will miss this entertainment, but the wind up here is slowly driving me mad I think, so will be happy when I leave this hillside perch next week.
The view from the west 'patio' allows a glimpse of the ocean and the beautiful sunsets.
General view overlooking town and the mountains to the south.
