I'd just barely exited the airport and was headed to the parking area for my ride when I saw what looked like a dead dog in the street. A terrible start to my visit to India.
Nope, not dead. Sleeping, in fact, and sleeping quite soundly with his head inclined on the warm, asphalt speed bump. In fact, he was wearing a little vest or a sweater of some sort. Hmm, clearly I had some things to learn about India.
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Rodeo Grande
It made perfect sense on paper, when you looked at a map: why return to Condega from Rodeo Grande through Somotillo, Chinandega, Leon, San Isidro, and Esteli, when there was so clearly a road that led from just north of Rodeo Grande to San Juan de Limay and then to Esteli? Another option, a road to Somoto (also close by) remained still unrealized. "We'll decide later," we thought, about what we'd do. The long way back home is certainly better known, more secure, perhaps easier. But to complete the circle?
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The pines stand in pockets,
soft, fur-lined, so deep you can
scrunch your cold hands down into them,
warm them up. You can scrunch
the rest of you down in, too:
nestle in,
maybe never emerge.
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The Philippine Sea is a golden mirror, but clouds are already starting to billow, like sails along the horizon.
A Brown Tree Snake lassos his way back down a tree trunk after having spent the night munching on birds’ eggs.
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I had been wondering why castles and stories of knights and princesses so thoroughly captivate the kids, and decided its probably simply because such an industry has come up around those stories, and theres so much money to be made. Then we visited Carcassonne and I decided there's something else.
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