Bryan Adams: Everything I Do (I do it for you...like having a cup of shut the f&ck up would be a great start!)
So it was that on March 14 that I came to leave Granada, said goodbye to my mates of the past 10 days Lisa and Shannan and headed by bus for Granada´s arch rival, the university and politically progressive, Daniel Ortega and Sandanista loving city of Leon. And unlike other Nica cities it had one thing that not many other CA cities possess, no not rubbish bins (thats what the holes in the footpath are for) but street signs. You actually knew which street you were walking on, across and through and did not have to rely on the overworked and underpaid Lonely Planet map-maker for directions to for example non-existant bus stations, hostels thjat after a good review three years prior had well and tryly dropped the ball along with over-priced restaurants.
For me Leon had the advantage over its arch nemisis Granada, for a start it had an authentic feel to it, the fact not many tourists came to Leon and it was inhabited by thousands of Nica students gave it a great buzz. The busride from Managua was dominated by Cordillera de los Mariabos, a string of 10 volcanoes, some active with Volcan Momotombo looming large. An awesome sight as I sat up the back of the microbus chewing on my kneecaps for the two and a half hour journey. Outside the towering cathedral in Leon´s main square, the largest in all of CA, was a great place to park your ass with a beer at night and watch the locals in action. Be it kids on homemade skateboards, brothers and sisters chasing after each other or whole families in animated discussions it was the place to go.
A thunderstorm in the making added a touch of magic as lightning cracked occassionally lighting up the square. The Leonese were really friendly with the local vet stopping me on his motorbike and warning me not to venture any further in the direction I was heading because it was the Leon's version of 'the hood'. Who would have known! All this at a temperature hovering both day and night into the 30´s....and yeah the Hostel Lazybones I stayed at had its own pool free from the skin bleaching chemicals of Granada´s equivalent.
In fact arriving in Leon from Granada was the first time in months I was truly on my own so I opted to grab a private room to see if I could grab some much needed sleep but my cunning plan kind of came unstuck. Enter the big guy (by big he was sporting a massive verandah over the toolshed and he could almost be allocated a postcode in his own right) parking his hefty ass in the room next to mine. At this point I also noticed my private room had 4 walls neither of which extended to the ceiling which should have registered danger with a capital frickin´ D. And so it was that at 2am with earplugs intact the dulcit tones of the snoring steam-train in the next room still managed to seep into my ear cavities, ditto 3am, 4am, 5am until finally his alarm went off and he was outta there...my cue to sleep.
Clearly still dazed and confused I opted for another night in my private room only to say goodbye snoring, hello light as opposed to dark which the body realises is time to sleep. As the concept of a wall reaching the ceiling had not yet registered the next night I spent reading without my light on....because the guy in the room behind had gone out and left his light on which had the effect of lighting my room up like a Xmas tree. As I cursed to myself that the pretzels were indeed MAKIN´ME THIRSTY´ my body resisted any urge to sleep. So screw paying $17 for a room and it was back to the $10 dorm the rest of the time in Leon for some good old fashioned shut-eye, in the dark and in quiet. Serenity now!
The activity of choice in Leon was body surfing at the local beach in Las Penitas on the Pacific side of Nica with John (UK), Will and Noah (US). The score was pretty much the Pacific 4 - Backpackers 0 as the waves and ripped served to pummel us into submission no matter how many times we ventured back into the water, empty cans of whoop ass in hand. I even ventured up the beach to where the locals were plying their trade in the water thinking the waves would be better suited than the dumpers I was attempting to ride in. Well it all started out great until I came to notice that I as drifting out to sea, the locals were safely on shore and the sea had racked up another couple of points as the backpackers struggled to open their account.
Thanks to the scuba course advice of always swim across a rip to get out of it I managed to make it onto the beach, but not before a mystery rock appeared to make contact with my foot and sending the oceans scorecard into double figures. I headed back to the lads only to have Lupeleoñ, a 10 year old local girl give us all the third degree on why we were not yet married, where were our children, how old we were (I dropped 12 years off my age but I doubt she bought it) and she ended by drawing pictures of four brides and groom in the back of my Lonely Planet to inspire us all to get our shit together in true catholic fashion. Then she collected her shells and bid us farewell as we headed back to Leon for a meeting with our smooth (suave in español) mate Flor de Cana seven years gran reserve and enough free limes to make up for all the times I spent a weeks salary on a couple of limes back home to accompany my six pack of Corona! And I slept like a baby...Gracias Lupeleoñ!
And then it was back on board the chicken bus for the return trip to Granada via Managua where the detour took us right into the poverty that exists in certain parts of CA, namely street kids sorting through trash strewn on the footpath in order to clothe and feed themselves. Scenes like this certainly help put things like lack of sleep into perspective. And so it was that with the temperature hovering around the 30´s and the humidity bearing down on us we struggled to find a room at the inn in Granada.
Walking around with a fully loaded backpack on finally led Will, Noah and myself to a room for three which would have doubled as a sauna in a previous life so we set the industrial strength fans to high, strapped everything down less the force of air from the fan sent it through the wall into the next room and headed down to the Bearded Monkey for the final meal in Granada. Followed by dominoes and in true style on the trip if you teach the game you invariably end up getting your ass kicked by those you teach it to...this night being no exception. Revenge quickly followed courtesy of the pool table where I struck a very rare vein of form and could do no wrong, cleaning up the first six games. Considered turning pro until it all came crashing down around my ears in the seventh.
And Shannan, I did try and line up the Bearded Monkey´s book nazi with a stray 8-ball but she decided to protect herself behind the vast desk she inhabits, the place where she takes great delight in rejecting book swaps in order to ´protect the integrity of her library´.
Travellers should beware and not even consider swapping a book of dubious quality as you will be shamed, publically humiliated and laughed out of the Bearded Monkey. Unless you have a nobel prize winning author you will be receiving a colouring-in book in exchange for your book, or maybe a three year old PADI Dive-book on how to go places, meet people and have fun - underwater! To see Shannan´s book rejected not once but twice for not being literate enough (wait until word gets back to Oprah that a book with her sticker was mocked...then again I am sure it is not the first time either) even though it was picked from the library a week earlier was stupidity at it´s finest.
Though I am sure Shannan is having a ball joining the dots in the book she finally managed to exchange....just hope she is managing to colour between those lines
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Leon Hotels
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