Tonight, we had dinner at a typical Nicaraguan restaurant, then walked down to a little amusement park in a dirt field, between the La Union supermarket and a bank alongside the busy highway, where it seems the old carnival rides from the United States go to die.
Here they are maintained and running and open every Saturday night for families.
We bought some tickets, a buck a pop, and went for the purple swinging machine — it goes up and over, like riding the hands of a clock.
The bar came down and "Imagine," started to play, the same song the English students sang to us, Moises and Enrique on the piano and guitar.
We were swinging and at the top, when you pause before the momentum pulls you around, I looked out at the lights of miles of Managua. A little girl was hollering up to us from the dirt below, shimmying in her sandals and pink shirt and we were hollering at the top of our lungs and waving our hands and I thought: is life really this good?
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