Friday, 23rd October, am, Granada: the nationally recognised historian and his wife of 62 years
Once we’d finished with the interview yesterday, we headed to Granada for the night. It’s one of the most wonderful towns on our route – it has the same vibe as Antigua in Guatemala (colonial, slightly touristy, very laid back) but is smaller and on the shores of Lake Nicaragua. Mike spent a summer during his university career on the Island of Omatepe in the middle of Lake Nicaragua, studying the behaviour of capuccin monkeys, so this was all his old stomping ground. We stayed in Hotel Granada because he remembered it, and I had to endure much reminiscing. If you make it to Nicaragua, please make it to Granada. It’s totally lovely. We made some new friends last night, and managed to get contacts for yet another great interview this morning.
Maria and Evan own a bar called Nectar. An absolute corker of a place on the main street from the town to the lake, the road where most of the gringos hang out. Maria is Nicaraguense and when Mike told her what we were up to, she suggested that we interview Jose Joaquin Quarto, a nationally recognised historian and political activist, recently awarded a national prize for his work, and married for 62 years. And she organised that we did.
Another astounding interview. He’s a formidable brain, and certainly on the history of Nicaragua. He even spent time incarcerated for his beliefs during the civil war. He credits his family (9 children) as his greatest ever accomplishment, and the courtyard of the house has its four walls lined with hundreds of photos of the family, mostly getting married.
He talks to us for a while about the history of Nicaragua, then he is joined by his wife of 62 years, Gladis. We have another very moving interview about love, marriage, and the role of God in the union. Jose and Gladis lost one of their children, and Gladis says that it’s the hardest thing that she has ever had to endure. They talk with so much pride about their 22 grandchildren and many more great-grandchildren, it’s a wonderful thing. I have to confess, once again, that my Spanish didn’t get all of it, but I did make out that love at this age is not like love in youth, but that it’s equally precious.
