Nicaragua!
Trip Start
Feb 10, 2008
1
24
29
Trip End
Aug 06, 2008
Managua,
Nicaragua
Monday, July 21, 2008
So it has now been a couple of weeks since the last entry; a delay that has been caused mainly by a lack of both substantial free time and access to the internet. But luckily I managed to scrawl down a few notes during my first few days in Managua, the Nicaraguan capital, and so here comes a fairly out of date update of that time....
I was pretty excited to be arriving in Nicaragua as, even though I had never set foot in the country before, I was fairly certain that it was going to my favourite of those that I would be visiting. It's hard to say exactly why this was, but I suppose it was a mixture of the following things: It is cheap, very safe, allegedly home to some of the friendliest people on the planet, relatively free of tourists for the most part, and incredibly diverse in both culture and landscape.... plus I just love the sound of the name. N-I-C-A-R-A-G-U-A. Mmmm. But I think that what attracts me most to the country is its history - whilst the majority of countries I have visited have seen some internal conflict, Nicaragua is the only one whose conflict ended in victory for the revolutionaries, when the Sandinistas ended the decades long US backed Somoza family dictatorship in July 1979
Statue of Sandino
. What makes the revolution even more salient is that two years ago, Daniel Ortega - one of the heads of the Sandinistas and later the president of revolutionary Nicaragua - regained power for the first time in sixteen years. Whereas in El Salvador any memories of the rebellion and conflict of the seventies and eighties are pushed aside to make way for ideas and aspirations for the future, and in Guatemala any such memories have never really been discussed openly because of the severity of the political repression during the thirty six year civil war, the Nicaraguan revolution still seems very fresh in the minds of the people, as I have experienced several times in my two and a half weeks here. Anyway, back to Wednesday 2nd July - my first day in Nicaragua. Most people tend to spend as little time as possible in the capital city, as it is said to offer very little to the tourist or traveler. Whilst it is true that it doesn't offer very much in terms of beauty or interesting activities, I was keen to spend at least a few nights here in order to get a feel for a city that I had recently been reading a fair deal about in books set during the civil war. It has to be said that Managua makes for a very strange capital city - the old centre was all but destroyed by a powerful earthquake during the seventies, and has never been rebuilt due to a lack of funds coupled with a fear of another quake. Since this natural disaster both shops and houses have simply been built on the outskirts of the old city, which has left what looks more like a sprawling mass of separate towns than a single city
Monument to the revolution
. What's more is that there are literally no street names or house numbers, and so all directions and addresses take the form of a distance relative to a specific landmark (that might no longer exist!) For example, "You know where the old bakery used to be? Walk two blocks towards the lake from there and then five blocks to the setting of the sun." Seriously. Nicaragua is also the second poorest country in the region (behind Haiti), and Managua certainly has the most visible poverty of the countries that I have visited so far - mainly in the form of squatters, beggars, and people living in illegal houses that are literally made of garbage. I wanted to take some photos of the latter, but couldn't help feel that it would be quite rude and insulting to their occupants. I started the day by climbing the hill that leads to a huge monument of Sandino - a national hero who was murdered by the Somoza family back in the 1930s, and whose name forms the basis of the revolutionary group of the seventies. The hill also offered a great view of the surrounding city, whose beautiful setting by the lake Managua really isn't done justice by the contents of the city itself. Next I headed to the old city centre, which is characterized by poverty and monuments and relics of the revolution. I feel that pictures speak better than words here. I also headed to a national museum which, just like every other museum I have ever been to, was extremely underwhelming. I was guided round by a young student who, although very sweet, also seemed to be limited to reading out the small signs that I could quite clearly read myself
Monument to the workers
. "Oh yes, and here is yet another piece of pottery from the Daedactic period, which took place between 350 and 50 BC". After this fascinating tour I headed to a lakeside bar to read "The Alchemist", which I'm fairly certain is both the most overrated and indeed most boring thing I have ever experienced. Okay, that is probably a slight exaggeration, but I really am baffled by all the hype. I had been toying with the idea of leaving for Granada that evening, but I was really keen to attend a gig on Thursday night whose main (and indeed only) act was a famous local band whose music was all based on and written during the revolution of the seventies. I the end I was successfully wooed by the idea and so, having purchased my ticket for the following evening, headed to the cinema to see "The Happening". Like Untraceable I thought it was quite a cool concept, but unlike Untraceable I thought it was a steaming pile of poo. On the plus side I did get offered some popcorn by the stranger sitting next to me, but she cancelled out this altruistic behavior by actually taking a phone call in the middle of the film and spending the next minute or so discussing her cousin in a voice that was more than a notch above a whisper. Funnily enough this type of behavior is not all that uncommon for Central American movie theatres where talking, texting, and even snoring are seen as acceptable. Luckily I am yet to spot anyone masturbating though. I was pretty much stumped as to what to do the following day in the build up to the 21:00 gig, and ultimately ended up spending a mammoth five and a half hours on the internet followed by a couple of hours at the cinema watching Hancock
Museum with more propaganda
. Yes, I like going to the cinema. Later that evening I was preparing to walk the 500m or so from my hotel to the bar at which the show was being played, but was warned by all the locals that it was far too dangerous and I would probably be robbed. Although Nicaragua is supposed to be one of the safest countries in the region, this label apparently doesn't apply to the capital, and so I took a taxi just to be on the safe side. The gig that followed was a real highlight of the trip, but unfortunately I forgot my camera and so have neither photos nor videos. The place was packed to the rafters and, despite having a sore throat, the lead singer (who must be at least in his sixties) belted out every number at the top of his voice. It was a great atmosphere, with jokes (which I didn't get) and cries of "Viva Nicaragua!" galore. Feeling surprisingly drunk after just four bottles of beer, I got a taxi back to my hotel where I slept like a baby.The following day I headed to Granada, an old colonial town that is apparently the metaphorical jewel in the crown of Nicaragua's tourism industry. Although I've grown quite fond of the place, its character is dampened somewhat by its touristy nature and its beauty isn't on the same level as that of Antigua in Guatemala. As I was sat reading a book in the sun soaked central park I suddenly heard my name being called, and looked up to see the beaming face of Jen - one of the Irish lasses who had rescued me on that fateful night in Belize when I had come within a whisker of sleeping on the streets
Old cathedral (with political propaganda)
. She was in Granada with a few chums whose names I forget, and together we went for a wander around the churches and (incredibly boring) museums in town. It happened to be Independence Day at the time, and one of the local restaurants was literally handing out free burgers, hot dogs and cans of beer to anyone from USA or Britain. Needless to say we made the most of this kindness, but unfortunately my day was ruined by the constant American jibes regarding our loss of the war... obviously these cutting remarks hit me pretty hard, what with me giving a shit and all. After watching Superbad at the hostel and then going out for a few more beers, my companions decided to hit the sack at the relatively early hour of ten O'Clock, leaving me to head back to the hostel to see if I could find anyone to go out with. I ended up staying at the hostel for three nights, and my time there pretty much just reinforced my dislike for the current backpacking culture - namely gap year kids from England and abrasive Yanks talking about how drunk they got, how drunk they're going to get, which tourist spots they've been too, and indeed which tourist spots they're going to go too. I think the whole experience can be summed up by the Irish girl who recommended a town to me because its bars played "proper" music like 50 Cent, as opposed to "local crap". Anyway, it turned out that the hostel was pretty much shut down by the time I got back, and so I had to settle for a bottle of water and a book rather than a bottle of beer and a bar
Remains of old cathedral
. I still got to experience some form of nightlife though as I was sat by the door through which all the tenants of the hostel returned at the end of the night, and the sight of them only served to enhance my hatred and make me feel a little ashamed to be a "Gringo". Whilst pretty much everyone was noisy and incredibly disrespectful, the biscuit was taken by the two American brothers who got into a fist fight and ended up smashing each other's heads into the glass bookcase in the main courtyard. To cut a long story short the police had to be called, and all purchasing and consumption of alcohol was banned in the hostel for the next few days. In fairness though it was actually quite an entertaining night, as some of the people were quite cool and it was nice to be on the sober side of things for a change. The following day was a pretty chilled one, and I spent most of it reading and watching DVDs at the hostel. That evening I headed into town with a few other peeps that I met that day, including a Turk who looked EXACTLY like the lovechild of Edward Norton, Steed Malbranque, and Boris from Goldeneye. Honestly, it was uncanny. I ended up meeting a group of local Nica girls in "El Club", and headed with them to a lakeside bar in their chauffeur driven ride! It was a pretty fun night, and nice to hang out with some locals as opposed to a bunch of Brits that I almost definitely wouldn't want to hang out with at home.
On Sunday I woke up with a fairly bad hangover, which I think was the first I had had since back in Playa Del Carmen
Tomb of the "Father of the Revolution"
. I can tell you that absence most certainly does not make the heart grow fonder in this case. Due to this condition I once again spent the whole day reading and watching DVDs, as well as occasionally shuffling aimlessly around the hostel. The following day, or the Monday before last, is when I began my very brief volunteering stint in La Prusia, a little town just a couple of minutes from Granada. The last two weeks have been great for a number of different reasons, but I feel that there is so much to say that attempting to cover it all on this blog would end up being pretty futile. Having said that, I am told that a picture says a thousand words, and so the next few entries will be nothing more than a collection of some of my favourite photos from the last two weeks.
On that note, I bid you all farewell.
Hasta luego
x
