By Michael Sano
Secrets surround a romance between a visitor and local in the mountains of Nicaragua.The music at the discoteca is so loud that I have to shout to be heard. I'm nodding my head, pretending to listen to one of my co-workers, while searching the green slices of light on the dance floor for a particular pair of calves. We are sitting around a group of white plastic tables taking turns on the concrete pista de baile. The tabletops buzz with each beat of the bass causing a mob of empty bottles to clamor out its own shaky melodies. One fall could bring the whole clan down.