Bluefields, Nicaragua 01/20/08-01/21/08

Highlights

• Transportation woes a-plenty
• A boat in the rain

After Managua, I decided to go to the Corn Islands off of Nicaragua's Caribbean coast. To get there, you have to go to the city of Bluefields and either take a boat or plane to Big Corn Island. Rather than simply fly from Managau to Bluefields and continue on to the island, I decided to take the land/water route to Bluefields and just fly back when I was done with my time on the islands. I would just do the land route once for the experience. It ended up being an experience I could have done without. It was all because of the people providing transportation.

Bluefields is a small town on the Caribbean with a small airport. It is only reachable by boat or air. It is the gateway to the Corn Islands. There is not a whole lot of interest in Bluefields other than the airport and ferries.

Details

To get to Bluefields, I had to go by land from Managua to Rama and catch a boat the rest of the way to Bluefields. I took a cab to the bus station, where I knew there was a direct bus going to Rama at 9:00am. I was surprised when the cab driver accepted my reasonable offer of 40 cordobas for the ride. He spent quite a while on the way looking for other fares to share the ride. (In Nicaragua and other Central American countries, they will generally try to get other fares going the same direction. This is not considered unusual.) He did not find any other fares. When we got to the bus station, I paid him his 40 and was informed that I needed to pay him 10 more. After an initial sigh of frustration, I decided that I did not want to have an argument in Spanish over 50 cents instead of catching my bus, so I just gave it to him. It was still much cheaper than I expected to pay. Did I ever mention that I hate taxi drivers?

At most of the bus stations in Central America, there are usually people who will ask you where you are going and direct you to a bus--a surprising case of people in the street out to help you and not just themselves. In Managua, there are guys there who have no interest in you but want to get something from you. I was a bit wary. The woman with the shuttle right next to me asked if I was going to Juigalpa. I said no, and proceded to put on my backpack to find my bus. Then she asked if I was going to Rama. I said yes and she indicated that I should take the shuttle. I asked if it was direct and what the price was. It sounded OK, so I got in. Well, much to my annoyance, I later found out that the shuttle was direct, but it was direct only to Juigalpa, halfway to Rama. I got out there, failed to get a direct bus from there to Rama, and ended up on a very nice but incredibly slow bus there instead. I was fuming. I was so pissed that I did not just get onto the bus I had originally planned to get on. I was really pissed at the thought that I might miss the last boat to Bluefields and have to spend the night in Rama--an apparently seedy town. I kept thinking, "I am really getting sick of Central America. It is time to leave."

I got to Rama in plenty of time for the boats, but as I arrived, it started raining. As with bus stations, boat docks often have people to guide you to the pier and the right boat. A guy saw me heading there and walked with me the rest of the way to the ticket booth. But wait--there were two companies with boats to Bluefields. They were giving contradictory statements about the services. One group was lying, but which one? Or both? I gut stuck with the liars. They said the boat was covered, but it was not. By that point, I just thought, "Screw it. Just get me the hell out of here and get this day over with. If I have to wait an hour for the other company to run the covered boat, I would rather just get wet."

Instead of the boat being covered, the passengers got covered with a sheet of opaque plastic the length of the boat. It was stiflingly hot under the plastic. As the boat moved, I put my head out from under the plastic. I decided that I would rather be drenched with rain than with sweat. As the boat picked up speed, the rain stung my face. I was worried that I might be causing the guy behind me to get wet, so I went back under the plastic.

I had taken the river route rather than fly so that I could see the scenery. All I was seeing was the inside of a sheet of plastic. It wasn't even the rain or the plastic that pissed me off. It was just the fact that I was lied to and screwed over yet again. At that moment, I just wanted to get the hell out of Central America and never come back.

After just a few minutes, the rain stopped and we took off the plastic. As he sky brightened, so did my mood. I think I even smiled.

The scenery was basically just jungle lining the river. It was not much different from Rio Dulce in Guatemala. The ride was quite rough in spots. My butt hurt. Even in the smooth spots, the boat was constantly bouncing up and down.

It was getting dark when we arrived in Bluefields. I had decided to not bother with a hotel search and just go to the more expensive option listed in Lonely Planet. As I got off the boat, I practically ran to avoid dealing with touts.

I walked directly to the hotel with no trouble. On the short walk, I definitely did not get the warm fuzzies about Bluefields. I decided I would just eat in the hotel tonight and take care of any business in the morning rather than walk around Bluefields at night.

The hotel restaurant was out over the bay and was quite nice. It was so darkly lit that the waiter had to bring a flashlight for me to read the menu. While eating, some little girl kept screaming for quite a while. I don't mean crying, I mean shrieking just for the fun of it. Neither her parents nor anyone else made any move to get her to stop or even seemed to notice that she was doing it, reaffirming my theory that in Central America the existence of noise is not acknowledged.

My sleep was interrupted a couple of times in the early morning by dogs. Like all of Central America that I have seen so far, stray dogs are an infestation in Bluefields.

I needed to run errands before heading to the airport to fly to the Corn Islands. I did not know if I would have internet access on the islands, so I booked my return ticket home. I have one more month of Central America before I fly home from San Jose, Costa Rica. It may be too long, considering I have only been gone for 3 months, and that as of this day, I am officially burnt out on Central America.

After searching and asking around, I found the post office and finally mailed the photo CDs back home to Ganesh.

I packed up and headed to the airport to fly to Big Corn Island. Flagging down a taxi was surprisingly hard. There were zillions in the street, but they were taken and heading the other way. When I finally found someone willing to go to the airport, I asked if he would do it for 10 quetzales (the cheapest suggested fare to the airport), and he said yes. No haggling. We picked up another passenger on the street, dropped her off (I didn't see her pay) and off to the airport, which is a very short ride.

I bought my ticket and waited for about 3 hours, which was when the next flight left. The airport is tiny and the only other people there for the first hour or so were people who worked there.

Before I could board, I had to take the spoon out of my carry-on. Apparently, spoons are dangerous. I had another spoon in my big bag, so I just threw away the one in my backpack.

Managua, Nicaragua 01/18/18-01/20/08

Highlights

• Met my acquaintance from the internet
• Walked up to the lagoon overlooking the city.
• Walked around the city
• Tried (unsuccessfully) to plug a leaky shower.

Summary

What is there to say about Managua? It is the capital of Nicaragua, has a large portion of the population, and is not the most interesting place in the world. It's downtown area was destroyed in an earthquake and not rebuilt because it sits on multiple fault lines.

I stayed near some of the international bus stations because this part of town has the cheap lodgings. (Managua seems quite overpriced.) Not surprisingly, this neighborhood has some of the seedier elements. There was more than one person with that "let's see how much we can get out of this guy" look. And, as is apparently the norm in Nicaragau, plenty of people saying "Give me a dollar" as I walk by.

I did get to hang out with my first Nico (Nicaraguan), although even that was kind of disappointing.

I have no pictures of Managua because I did not take my camera with me when exploring it. The crime rate was too high in some parts of town to risk carrying my camera. In the end, I didn't go through those parts.

Details

When I got to Managua and got off the bus, I ended up sharing an overpriced taxi with a Dutch guy whom I chatted with.

When my taxi passed the Ticabus station down the street from the hotel I wanted to go to, a tout ran after the taxi so he could get to the hotel gate before I did. The hotel was overpriced (and I wonder if the tout resulted in a price increase.) I could not get rid of the tout until I headed to an area where he apparently could not get commissions. He tried to convince me that they were too expensive.

My hotel seemed fine at first, but then I realized that the walls did not go all the way up to the ceiling. The result: you could hear every sound anywhere in that part of the building. If someone showered, you could hear it. In the morning, the music and cooking from the kitchen came in loud and clear. I moved to another hotel the next day and it was even worse. That one had a leaky shower head which made the room super-humid. I tried to fix this by tightly wrapping plastic around it with rubber bands. For a shower with no pressure, it had enough pressure to explode the plastic.

My first evening in Managua was spent meeting Oscar, who lives there. We walked around my neighborhood a bit, stopped by the big mall there, and had dinner in a restaurant nearby. Oscar is lawyer by training. He was working in Panama and is now getting certified for Nicaragua. Our conversation was fine, but a little bit depressing. Neither of us made an effort to get together again that weekend.

When I left after dinner, I was advised to take a cab the 5 blocks to my hotel. I knew that the neighborhood was dangerous after dark.

The next day, I decided to see a bit of Managua. I considered going to the area monumental--the destroyed former center of town. However, I knew that this was a crime ridden part of town and didn't want to be bothered with that that day. Instead, I walked up the hill to the lagoon. From there, I got a good view of the area monumental and Lake Managua behind it. I could see the remains of the cathedral very clearly.

The lagoon itself was OK, but nothing spectacular.

After the lagoon, I decided to walk to the Zona Rosa, which I had ascertained from locals was a safe walk. Safe, but not particularly attractive. The most interesting things were casinos and this odd church with tons of little hemispheres all over the roof. (It was, unfortunately, pretty ugly.)

It was without much regret that I left Managua less than two days after arriving.

Ometepe, Nicaragua 01/16/08-01/18/08

Highlights:

• Pushing a truck out of a ditch
• Walking around the island
• Talking to a Managuan pen-pal

Summary

Omoptepe is a volcanic island in the middle of the giant Lake Nicaragua. It is two islands joined by an isthmus. Each smaller island had a volcano at its center. There are beaches around the island and several small towns. Most of the towns are so small that they are not distinguishable as town. The only towns with populations over a few hundred are Myogalpa, where the ferry stops, and the smaller, more laid back Altagracia. I decided to stay in Altagracia.

My intent was to take the bus around the island, maybe go to some of the beaches, and, hopefully, climb the smaller volcano. After walking around the island a bit, I realized that my feet were not in good enough shape to do an 8 hour strenuous hike on a volcano. (My feet have been sore off and on since I was in Tikal.)

I contented myself with my walk around the island and decided to just get on with my trip.

Details

The day I left Granada, I kept waking up in the the early morning, particularly after this wierd dream where I was trying to get a vegetarian sandwich in the middle of the night. in a (non-existant) restaurant in St. Libory known for cooking beans in the can on the stove until they exploded.

I packed and to my horror discovered that the water was off. fortunately, it came back on before I needed to shower.

I took my bag to what I thought was the bus stop for Rivas. Fortunately, I asked a woman there and she and others there told me it was around the corner.

There were a lot of stops along the way to pick up people. The bus got pretty packed. I liked the road we were on, even if the bus did have to veer to avoid potholes. It did not have lines for the first part and had trees along it and was surrounded by mostly flat, non-jungle land. Then it turned to jungle.

When we got to Rivas, people shuffled us to the microbus to San Jorge. For 5 cordobas, they took us directly to the ferry dock. I bought my ticket at the ticket booth, while most just paid on the ferry. The ferry left at noon, about 20 minutes after we arrived. Very good timing.

I did not go on top of the boat for fear of getting motion sickness. I sat in the middle of the cabin and did not see much, other than cheesy Sanish-language music videos. The ride was a bit over an hour. It was kind of choppy, so I was glad that I got the ferry and not the smaller boat.

When the boat arrived at Myogalpa, I hopped on the bus to Altagracia. It was hot, and we waited quite a while. The bus got really packed along the way. The island is pretty, but the towns do not seem to be. An hour or so later, we reached Altagracia. It was disappointing that there were not many places where one could see the volcanoes or beaches from the bus.

When I got off the bus in Altagracia, I walked two blocks south to my hotel. This guy on a bike kept trying to suggest hotels and saying that he could be a guide on a volcano hike. He did not take the hints that I was not interested in hiring someone off the street.

I got to the hotel and got a nice room for US$5, which I then had to switch because of a pluming problem--the water from the sink poured onto the floor.

While having lunch in the hotel restaurant, I asked the woman at the hotel if I should be suspicious of people who talk to me in the street. She said it depends on the person. Lo and behold, five minutes later, the guy on the bike came by while she was at the door. They exchanged a few words. I told her that he was the guy I was talking about. She said to avoid him. He was bad news.

I walked around town a little. There is not much to walk around. A lot of the roads are just dirt. There is nothing here, which is not so bad, except that they do have people trying to get the attention of tourists. That has become my new prime factor in whether I like a town or not. I just want a place where I can be left alone.

I unsuccessfully tried to find the beach near town.

The next day I decided to walk to the other half of the island. It was a pleasant walk down the main road, where I encountered a truck that was sideways in the road with its rear wheels stuck in a ditch. I put down my bag and helped push the truck out of the ditch which with the extra hands, was quite easy.

I found the turnoff to the Isthmus, but after that, I did not know where I was. It was a pleasant walk among plantain and banana groves, with a few corn fields and some animals. I regularly ran across pigs, horses, cows, and chickens just loose in the streets or yards. There were some beautiful blue birds with long tails among the banana trees.

I had planned to go to the big beach on the isthmus, but never found it. The map in Lonely Planet was not very detailed. I thought I had passed the town and was walking on the other island, but found out later that this was not the case. I had turned around and walked to a beach, but not the one I was headed for. There was one family there further down.

I walked back toward Altagracia, passing the little river where I had seen woman washing clothes earlier. It was a very hot, sunny walk. I was sweating a lot Thankfully, my REI sunscreen seems to have held up. Before I reached the paved road, I had to walk through a herd of cattle coming the other way.

I reached an intersection prior to the paved road and decided to head down toward the shore. It took me past farm land. The lane was very rough and rocky and was lined with a stone wall. It was quite picturesque, but I did not go all the way down because I was beginning to doubt that it went to the shore.

Back at the hotel, I used the trash can in my room to wash some clothes in the shower. I desperately needed some clean clothes but did not have the chance to take it to the laundry.

The power went off and on for several minutes at a time that night. That meant no fan, but the evening was fairly cool, so this was not too bad. It didn't help with drying my laundry, though.

During one of the outages, I listened to Spanish lessons. During another, I decided to finally call Oscar in Managua--someone I had met on the net. To my surprise, he spoke English. He had never uttered a word of English in all of our chats and e-mails. He seemed to be quite looking forward to meeting me. From what he says, he has no social life. When I told him that I was thinking of going to Managua this weekend and asked if he had plans, he said, no, he never has plans on weekends.

One interesting thing that Oscar said was that he feels old. He is only 26. He said he sees all of these 15 and 16 year olds and feels old. I asked why he was hanging around so many 15 year olds and he pointed out that most of the country's population is below 20.

I went to bed, pretty sure that I was going to Managua in the morning.

The next day, I packed my clothes, which were still wet from the previous days washing. I walked with my bags to the town square to catch the bus to the pier at Mayogalpa. I sat on a bench an asked the old lady next to me if this was the stop for the Mayogalpa bus. She said that it was, and when the bus came, she got up and signalled for me to follow.

When I got to the pier, I had the option of hopping right on the panga with the potential for seasickness or wait two hours for the ferry. I hopped on the panga. It was a lot calmer than I expected. I sat up top, fortunately shaded by the cabin behind me, and looked backward.

I sat next to an Irish couple, and we chatted a bit on the way over.

When we reached the shore, we saw people wearing shirts that read "tourist assistance" in Spanish. We had a good laugh at that. Someone tried to get me to take an overpriced taxi or shuttle to Rivas. I said I was taking the minibus. He said there was none. I told him that I had taken it to get here, and he left me alone.

When we got to Rivas, I immediately hopped on a bus to Managua. I had them put my pack on the roof, then realized that it would have fit in the overhead rack and that Managua is not a place to have your luggage out of your sight.

One time when the bus stopped, they popped the hood and added water. The bus sounded fine and nothing seemed wrong, but I was wary. Then the bus stopped again. They turned off the engine, popped the hood again, and added water again. People (me included) thought that the bus had broken down and some had started to move off. However, the bus had stopped because of a traffic jam, and once the jam was moving, we got to Managua without incident.

Granada, Nicaragua 01/10/08-01/16/08

Highlights:

• Disenchanted by Granada
• I lost my shorts.
• I started drinking beer.
• Creative packaging

Summary of Granada:

Granada is Nicragua's tourist center. It is a colonial city with a central square surrounded by beautiful colonial buildings. There is plenty of tourist infrastructure, and all the parasites that go with it. I got a lot more of their attention than I wanted. As a result, I did not get a warm feeling from Granada. I just got the sense that I was viewed as a source of money and that there was no intention to be nice to me to get it.

Don't get me wrong--the people working in the restaurants and hotels are just fine, and if you ask a stranger a question (e.g., "Where is the bus station?") they are very friendly. It is just that there are way too many people trying to get your attention, and when someone tries to get a tourist's attention, it is never to the tourist's benefit. It isn't even so much the "Hey, come take my tour/use my taxi/eat at my restaurant/shop at my store" and other semi-legitimate stuff--in fact, I see surprisingly little of that. It isn't even the beggars. It's the panhandlers and the people who seem to just want to annoy you because you are a tourist. Granted, these people are a tiny percent of the people around, but if you can't walk down the street with out someone harranging you, it is little comfort that most of the people are not. The ubiquitous "Give me a dollar" people are here, of course, but the odd thing is that some of them shout it at you with a sneer. I get the impression that the meaning is actually "Screw you, tourist!" but that they don't know the words. Or possibly they know just how annoying it is to have people constantly saying "Give me a dollar". At any rate, it is clearly intended to annoy.

As far as the much touted colonial beauty of Granada, the town square is indeed quite beautiful with its restored colonial buildings. And there are a few nice churches around too, and one or two other restored streets. Other than that, there is not much here. There are plenty of tour agencies, some (relatively) upscale restaurants, and bars. In other words, there is a tourism infrastructure. Tourists come here because is it a place for tourists.

There are several things in the area to do, such as tour the little islands in Lago Nicaragua, and visit nearby volcanos and lagoons. These are also accessible from the nearby town of Masaya, which has fewer annoyances and is more low key. Granada sits on Lago Nicaragua and Masaya sits on Laguna Masaya. I personally think that Laguna Masaya is the prettier of the two.

My goal in Granada was to relax. I had been traveling very fast for the previous several days and needed to just take a break. That I did, but I could have chosen a better place to do it.

The Details:

I took the microbus from Leon to Managua. I hopped right into another microbus to Granada and was on my way.

The microbus dropped me at the square downtown. I walked from the square toward the market where my first choice hotel was located. It was starting to drizzle. I already liked Granada more than Leon. It was much more lively. I would later revise this opinion after getting sick of people annoying me.

I walked through the market to the hotel, which is right in the market area across from the interesting old market building. Surprisingly, the hotel (Hospidaje Esfinge) is quiet--the sound from the chaotic market outside does not penetrate. There is a little courtyard shaded by vines with tables and hammocks.

Every day in Granada, I had lunch at a little place a block from my hotel--Cafetin La Laguna. The young waiter got to know my order by the third day--plate of the day with a glass of water. Service was very attentive there--a rarity in Nicaragua. The pleasant service was the main reason I came there every day.

I walked to the square and around. I walked down the touristy street towards the lake. This was not so cool. The developed part abruptly ended in dirt where the renovation is continuing. I walked all the way to the lake, with a cute kid rolling a tire tagging along part of the way trying to get money from me.

The lake was not very pretty. Much worse were the swarms of flying insects that were like clouds there. They were like tiny winged aphids. I did not get a good vibe there either. I definitely felt one of those "I'm the only tourist in a place with many predators" feelings. I walked back to downtown. I saw a few churches and took pics. I felt like I had done everything there was to do already. It made me wonder what the rest of my trip will be like. It seems like I am getting to places, walking around for an hour, and saying "Is that it?"

I really did very little in Granada. Other than eat and drink, I don't think there is much to do there. I think it is mainly a launching point to other places. I could have taken a boat trip on the lake.

Just as I was surprised to find myself drinking coffee every day in Mexico, I am even more surprised to find myself drinking beer every day in Nicaragua. I have been ordering it with meals. In Nicaragua, there are 2 local beers--Tona and Victoria. Tona has a milder flavor, so I prefer it. (By the way, I stopped drinking coffee.)

When I took my clothes to the laundry to be washed, they came back minus my only pair of shorts. I went back the next day and was told that I should come back later because the appropriate person was not there. I walked past this place every day, so each day for 6 days I asked, and each day I was told that I needed to come back and ask someone else. Finally, on the last day, I said that this had gone on for a week, either say yes or no. The guy there was kind of shocked that it had gone on so long--I never talked to the same person twice and apparently they were pretty disorganized. After a thorough search of the shop, they were not found, and it was finally over.

I finally burned my photos to CDs. This took longer than hoped. Then I had to package them. Since the only supermarket did not sell tape, I had to wander through the marketplace until I found a stall that sold it. Then I needed cardboard. Fortunately, walking home from the market, I found a discarded piece of cardboard in the gutter--Granada's trash can. A few minutes later, it was all packaged. Unfortunately, I never could find a post office in Granada. It took another week to get it mailed. My point: simple things can be surprisingly hard in an unfamiliar environment.

Speaking of the supermarket, I noticed a sign there that translates to "Always low prices. Always!" Sound familiar? Then I noticed that on the back of one of the cashiers' badge it said Wal-Mart. They really do have there fingers in Latin America.

When I finally left Granada, I headed to the island of Ometepe.

Leon, Nicaragua 01/08/08-01/10/08

Leon, Nicaragua -- 01/08/08-01/10/08

It has been a while since I have blogged. Since I last wrote about Guatemala, I have seen much more of Guatemala, zipped right through Honduras and El Salvador, spent quite a bit of time in Nicaragua, and a bit of time in Costa Rica and Panama. I am writing this from San Jose, Costa Rica.

I am resuming the blog from the point where I crossed the border into Nicaragua. I will go back and fill in the rest.

Hightlights:

• The border crossing from hell.
• A tarnished colonial jewel.

Summary of Leon, Nicaragua:

I was not terribly impressed by Leon. It seemed sleepy and kinda dumpy. For one of the two "colonial jewels" of Nicaragua, it was pretty tarnished. The whole city could have used a power wash.

Leon had a nice square with a big church next to it. It had a few decent churches, but after being there for a couple of hours, I just thought, "OK, done that, now what?"

Leon did have a laid back feel which I would appreciate more in the coming weeks. No one tried to screw me over while I was there, and I could walk down a street without demands for money.

Still, I cannot say that Leon is a place that is a must-see. It's more like, "If you happen to be in the area, go ahead and stop there."

The Details:

I woke up in Choluteca, Honduras and hopped on a microbus to the Nicaraguan border at Guasaule. I had been looking forward to Nicaragua and had high hopes.

I was the only white person in the van to the border, and the only one that had to go through the immigration process. When I got to the border, at least 3 guys were poking their heads into the van, all for me. The other people in the van went on their way and a bunch of cyclo drivers and money changers swarmed around me like mosquitos.

As I walked to the immigration booths, a cyclo driver kept hounding me the whole way. At the booth, this driver and a money changer would just not go away. The woman at the Honduras booth told me I had to pay $3. I told her I already paid the $3 fee when I entered. She told me there was an exit fee. I knew there was no exit fee, I'm pretty sure she knew that I knew that, but I was the only person standing there so we both knew that there was nothing I could do. If I had not been constantly harrassed by a cyclo driver and a money changer I might have thought to get her name and ask for a receipt (asking her by name to make the point clear.) Of course, there was no receipt. The Nicaraguan border guy was no problem.

The persistent cyclo driver gave me no end of grief. I got on the bus to Leon and stewed. I waited for an hour before the bus left. A couple of European guys got on before we left.

The bus ride to Leon was uneventful. As is more often the case than not, I did not get any change from the bus conductor. I've come to refer to this as "the white tax". The road on the Nicaraguan side of the border was quite a bit rougher than the others I have been on on this trip. Once we reached Chinandega, the first major city, things smoothed out. There were good views of the volcano near Leon. The land was basically flat with the exception of the volcanoes.

At the Leon bus station, I could not get my bearings. It was in the middle of a market and my compass was giving me flakey readings, as usual. (Why the hell do all compasses have that damn bubble in them? It screws everything up.) I asked a couple of people for the direction of the central parque. The first one was just waving his hand in no particular direction and was incomprehensible. The second guy gave me specific directions but seemed to think I was kind of crazy to walk there. It was longer than hoped, but not bad.

I walked to Hotel America, which was in the market section near the square. The neighborhood was loud and the store next door was blasting music into the street. My room had a window at street level and was full of the store's music. It was not much to look at. I took it because I did not want to drag my my bag anymore.

As it turns out, the hotel was fine. When the market died down in the afternoon and the store next door closed, it was quite peaceful.

I ended up eating at the touristy restaurant near the square (I was starving) which was actually quite good, and the plate of the day was reasonably priced. Then I got a pint of ice cream and a some milk at the grocery store and pigged out. I had hardly eaten anything but breakfast for 2 days.

I expected to leave after that first day, but I felt lazy when I woke up, so I stayed a second day and looked arond more.

I ate lunch at Buen Gusto down the street from my hotel. There was a buffet table and a woman behind it. I pointed at the things I wanted, taking a suggestion, and she piled it on the plate. She took it to the cashier. It was about $2. It was very filling and quite tasty--particularly the shredded meat and the veggies with some kind of sour cream sauce.

I walked around and took pictures. I liked Leon better the second day.

I walked to the south end of town and saw a little bridge. I walked there and looked down. It was basically a sewer with grey water and black scum floating on it. I later saw it labeled in Lonely Planet as a river.

That night, as I was lying in bed with my eyes closed, I began seeing these flashes of light out of the corner of my eye every couple of minutes. Great. What now? A detached retina? In the morning as I was lying in bed I discovered what the flashes were: the flourescent light overhead would flash every minute or two.

I think it had been exactly 3 months since I left California. I thought, "It would be nice to be home for a few weeks about now." I never got that burned out in Asia.

In the morning, I walked to the bus station, going through some livestock market street, and hopped on a microbus to Managua.