After spending the morning wrestling with CMSimple, a basic open-source content management system I?m deploying for Jane?s website, I took the afternoon off and headed for the beach here in town. I spent a couple hours bobbing amidst the waves and relaxing on the beach. While swimming I struck up a short conversation with a fellow beachgoer. He was from Guatemala, but had lived with his family in San Juan del Sur for the last year. When he found out that I was a librarian, he noted that he was an avid reader, and proudly noted that he had brought a massive collection of novellas with him from Guatemala. I asked if he had used the library in town, and he said no, but that he would likely do so when he was done with his existing book collection ? he has a special interest in books on art.
After absorbing enough sun to annoy my pasty colleagues back in Boston, I left the beach and decided to hike up to the cross before returning home. The cross is a large steel structure planted at the top of a massive hill overlooking the harbor. It offers an unbelievable panoramic view of the town and the surrounding coast. I climbed the hill, stopping occasionally to dig pebbles out of my Crocs. I reached the top just in time to watch the sun disappear over the horizon. I then headed back to town, stopping to buy a Fresca from one of the beer stands along the beachfront.
When I stopped into the hotel, Jane was busily checking in a massive group of Optometry students from UC Berkeley, who are here to do volunteer work. (Prior to SJDS they had been in Costa Rica and Granada) Jane agreed that we would try to get going on web stuff after dinner. So in the meantime, I headed up to her house to take a shower. On the way, however, I was sidetracked by the sound of a brass band playing on a front porch. Intrigued, I stopped to listen to the percussion-rich music. All of a sudden, someone handed me a candle in a wax paper luminaria, and next thing I knew I had been sucked into a procession in honor of the Dia de los Reyes Magos (The day of the three kings.)
For those who slept their way through Sunday School, January sixth commemorates the visit of the three kings (also known as wise men) to the baby Jesus, who by then had already popped up on the imperial Roman radar as a threat. In our particular processional, the role of the kings was played by 30 or 40 enthusiastic kids, all decked out in their finest approximation of what a well-appointed king would have worn in 3 BCE. (One child even had a plastic bottle labeled ?Myrh.?) I recognized one of the children as a regular at the library.
The kings were accompanied by three baby goats, presumably representing the camels the kings allegedly rode to find the messiah. In our case, it was clear from the weaving and foot dragging that one of the goats had not entirely bought into the quest. Nevertheless, once each participant had a lit candle, the procession moved forward, led by two men with tiki torches and backed by the steady racket of the brass band. We marched a large circuit about a block out from the city?s main park as residents watched from their front porches.
Having just returned from my hike and afternoon at the beach, I didn?t stick around too long after we returned to the starting point. But the band kept playing, and when I left the kings (stripped of their finery) were being served dessert.
Later on I walked by the church and saw a huge crowd gathered outside watching a lifesize Spongebob Squarepants on stage. Another part of the celebration, this time involving children who had had their first communion in December.
Travel serendipity at its best.