I’m back on the cattle raising co-op near Nandaime with my brother Mike this time, setting out on horseback to see the herd – wide fields, big sky.

Terencio and Andrés, lanky, with their dark, lined faces and floppy-brimmed cloth hats, study the cattle from their horses, proud owners of their own livelihood.

Mike and I put our desire to run the horses to good use, we hope, herding the cattle across the greenly shaded river and up the steep banks to the corral.

The brahman cattle are in gently shading tones of brown or grey, graceful as sailboats, and so dignified.

Back in Managua, I attend the after-dark gathering, in the Plaza of the Revolution, of the young men and women who completed their two-year Patriotic Military Service in the last year.

They all carry flaming brands of pine and boast T-shirts that proclaim, “¡Aquí está tu cachorro!” – here’s your lion cub (the young soldiers are referred to as “Sandino’s lion cubs”). Red and black FSLN flags and a lot of energy swirl around me.

President Daniel Ortega addresses them, “We’re winning this war because of your patriotism and your morale and your revolutionary spirit….”

I leave Nicaragua by plane to Guatemala, thus avoiding the likelihood of being turned back at the Honduran border. Since I’ve been in Nicaragua for three months, there is too much chance that I may not be allowed into that bastion of freedom and democracy that is Honduras. And I don’t really want to be there.