So I didn't really feel that way yesterday. I had been eager to explore my new found freedom. I jumped from the breathtaking lovely, if not terribly over-touristed, and slightly dull Granada, to Masaya. Forty five minutes away from Granada by Chicken bus, Masaya, is a great lot less touristed, similarly dull, and a hell of a lot mas feo! The only real draw to Masaya, is a proximity to lovely places, and its two markets. The first and main market is huge, filthy, and suits the practical needs of your everyday Nicaraguan... in other words, was little more than an obstacle for me. The second market is the artesan market, for which any torists of Masaya come. Its a lovely place, with an abundance of shops selling almost the same things, most of which, of corse, have no value save that of dust collection, which I imagine they do very well. I did, however, need, need, need some new beads, to replace the ones given away along the way. So, I payed too much, slid on my new digs (much better, thank you), and recalled my purpose for coming here... its close to beautiful places.
The first on my agenda was Catalina. A lovely little town (one of the Pueblo Blancos, after the whitewash the towns use) hosting an even lovelier Mirador, which has an exquisite view of the surrounding volcano-encrusted countryside. Supposedly. I wouldn't know. I was put on a bus to Managua, the most difficult, dirty, dangerous, hostile city in Central America. Sitting next to a fellow who I'm quite sure was 'rolling' at best, as he was rocking back an forth, breathing heavily, literally chewing chunks out of the back of the seat in front of us, and more or less scaring the puta mierda out of me! This is when the bus got a flat.
Two hours and a taxi ride later, I found myself back "home", in the least interesting (although not really unpleasant) city of my travels. Feeling dejected disappointed in myself, and hopelessly alone, I sought internet to write e-mails to loved ones back home. Not wanting to show myself to be a complete failure, i forced a positive mindset while writing them, in somewhere along the way, refused to give up on myself, my environment, or the people around me. As I left the internet place, the atmosphere had taken an unearthly hue. Armageddon stuff. I rushed to the parque Central just in time to be completely overwhelmed by the most brilliant sunset sky I've seen. Fortunately, although my jaw had fallen slack, just enough of my cerebrum was left intact to remember my camera (I know you're proud Micah). Its not doing justice, but its the best I could snap...
I spent some time speaking with a new friend, Alberto (not the spanish Alberto, a new one, Nicaraguan Alberto), before bumping into some Dutch travellers Micah and I keep seeing. A wonderful couple, you can check out their website (which hosts even more pics than we have) by clicking the link at the top of this blog. They told me about a festival in the Artesan market. Although it wasn't quite what I had expected, it was in fact perfect for the evening. It was an entire night of performed traditional dance. Lovely latin faces and bodies moving with that perfect latin rhythm, and exuding that latin... I don't know what it is, but it will undoubtably be the meat of my next blog!
Regrettably, no pics. I forgot my camera. I think God wanted that one to be just for me.
Today, I woke up invigorated. I climbed a Volcano (Volcan Masaya) whose gaping maw so resembles the open pit to hell, that a few centuries ago, a priest, Friar Francisco de Bobadilla actually enlisted the aid of indians to raise an enormous cross with which he exorcised the demons within. The trek was phenominal!
by the way, this crater is so enormous, this is only about a quarter of its girth
Fully recharged, tomorrow, I strike out for the calm wake left by my big brother in San Juan del Sur...