“I fell in love with San Pedro
…

Tropical the island breeze
All of nature wild and free
This is where I long to be
La Isla Bonita
And when the samba played
The sun would set so high
Ring through my ears and sting my eyes
Your Spanish lullaby”

I did not fall in love with San Pedro like Madonna did. In fact, I cannot even say I liked San Pedro. But if the truth be told I didn’t like San Pedro at all. Just a charmless, unattractive and despite its 13.000 inhabitants (making San Pedro the second largest town in Belize) still provincial little town with not much to offer and no different from thousands of other charmless provincial little towns across Central America. 

However, all the above is by no means a deal breaker. I didn’t come to the island to hang out in San Pedro town but La Isla Bonita’s (the beautiful island) beautiful beaches. Like the one in town center opposite the airstrip which is (supposed to be) one of the finest beaches in Belize. 

Ah, the airstrip, what a surprise. It undoubtedly adds some character and hype to town. It was unexpected but so fascinating to stumble upon it and its bar along the runway (Runway Bar) from where you can watch the mini toy-like airplanes land and take off from/to Belize City the whole day long while sipping on your favorite cocktail.

Even though Ambergris Caye is the largest island in Belize, 40 kilometers (25 miles) long it is as wide/narrow as much smaller Caye Caulker – an astonishing one mile at its widest point. It takes, however, full 5 minutes (instead of three) to walk in the city from one side to the other.

Just like in Caye Caulker there are three main streets in San Pedro. And it is also the Back Street that takes the heavy toll of not only unloading/loading cargo vessels but also sea ferries carrying passengers traveling from/to Chetumal in Mexico. 

Both islands are practically car-free. While you walk on Caye Caulker (or bike if you’re really in a hurry which you must not be on this laid-back island), golf cars are preferred means of transportation around Ambergris Caye.

…so how was La Isla Bonita?

It looked lovely from a deck of the water taxi. Never ending sandy beaches, tons of resorts, (and supposedly) lots of fun. Never ending party (apparently). The island’s nickname is ‘Party Island” as opposed to ‘Laid Back Island” which is a nickname of Caye Caulker.  Diving, snorkeling, swimming and all other water sports are top-notch – “they say”. As is the  Barrier Reef which btw is the second largest in the world. 

Supposedly? Apparently? They say? I had a misfortune of coming to the island during the worst downpour that not only paralyzed the city and the beach life but also my visit. So I went to the Back Street and boarded one of those ferries going to Chetumal in Mexico.

Oh well. C’est la vie.

p.s. And no, I haven’t given up on Belize’s potential. I shall return,

San Pedro in (very few) rainy Pictures

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Guatemala/Belize border

Flip-flops? Check. Sunglasses? Check. Bathing suit? Nah, not yet. I arrived late afternoon. Warm, but not that warm. Happy hour time. 

It took almost 9 hours to travel from Flores to Caye Caulker in Belize. First two, three hours on the bus, then at least one Guatemala/Belize border crossing with the luggage, followed by 2 more hours bus ride (the same bus) in Belize, followed by an hour and a half wait for the next water taxi (we missed the one we were scheduled for), followed by 40 minute ride on the water taxi followed by three minute walk to my beach accommodation. Full day.

So, I gave the fancy bus a try. Shiny red, super modern, picture perfect… but only in the picture. In reality, grey, old, dirty, worn out substitute with minimum comfort and no seatbelts. Central America in a nutshell – you never know what you pay for. The ticket was 25 USD incl water taxi. There were no fees to exit Guatemala and no fees to enter Belize. BUT once again I witnessed the scam exit penalty extortion for the absent entry stamps.

NOTE – IMPORTANT: no matter what anybody says or does and who DO NOT ENTER any Central American country without a proper entry stamp.  Lack of entry stamp will cost you hefty penalties (bribes) upon exit. 

All buses and shuttles arrive at the water taxi terminal in Belize City. From there you either take a taxi to your mainland destination or a water taxi to the islands. Water taxis are in fact water buses and take some 50 people or maybe even more. Two major destinations are Caye Caulker “La Isla Carinosa” and  San Pedro “La Isla Bonita” – the same Isla Bonita Madonna sang about.  It takes 45 minutes to Caye Caulker and 1.5 hours to San Pedro (via Caye Caulker).

I liked Caye Caulker right away. There was something soul and mind soothing about the laid-back vibe that resonated with me. Super chill. Easy, lazy and simple life. What a trinity.  

There are three streets on the island: Front, Middle, and Back. It takes 3 minutes to get from one side of the island to the other. How cool is that?  The island is 8 km long and 1.5 km wide at its widest point but only 250 meters wide at its narrowest point – right in the “city”. In fact, the island is two islands. There is a split between them (called The Split). Some say it was Hurricane Hattie that split the island in two in 1961, some say it is not true and claim the split has always been there. Whatever the truth, the split is the most popular swimming and snorkeling place on the island(s). 

Not much happening in the Back Street. This is where the locals live and work. A cargo port where locals unload supplies for the thirsty tourists and expats from incoming cargo vessels is also back there. Back Street is even the place for sunset lovers, thus, some tourists take the three-minute walk to visit ‘the other side’ during sunset time. But once they leave 15 minutes later the street is pretty much deserted.

The Middle Street and the Beach Street are the streets where most of the island’s activities take place. The Middle Street offers restaurants and even fine dining while the Beach Street offers the hangout beach bars and more restaurants. There is no shortage of bars in Caye Caulker, no matter where you are you are never far from one. Come in just the way you are, seems to be the motto.  No shoes, no shirt, no problem.

Belize is the only country in Central America where English is the official language. Even though I knew this before, a raw and crystal clear realization of the fact (which I had not considered) that all countries but one not only in Central America (Belize being the one) but also in South America (Brazil being the one) speak Spanish has become almost tangible.  In fact, the whole continent but two countries speak Spanish. How convenient is that? Wouldn’t it be great if the whole world spoke one common language?

I really enjoyed my stay in Caye Caulker, its laidback vibe, its beach bars, its split, its three streets and wouldn’t have minded staying a bit longer if I only could. How much longer? I don’t know. Would I have liked staying there for good? Could Caye Caulker be my paradise? Hmmm…

…Not so sure. Caye Caulker lies in the path of hurricanes. There may be another split coming up. Or worse, a tsunami. As much as I love the idea of a 250-meter stroll between the two sides of an island, it is not a lot of meters to find a safe haven while the raging waters flood the flat stretch of land. There is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide should a disaster happen. 

The population of the island is only 1300 inhabitants. Is it enough for a city girl like myself? Might be but then it might be not. All depends on the community. It isn’t always the quantity that counts.

Number one concern, however, is lack of real beaches. Caye Caulker is a limestone coral island, a mere sandbar  – not quite my vision of a paradise island. I am dreaming of white and soft sand beaches.

So I ask again. Could Caye Caulker be my retirement paradise? Still not sure. However, Caye Caulker showed the true potential of Belize. There may be (there is) a paradise island or even a community on land somewhere in Belize with amazing beaches, crystal clear waters, and laid-back lifestyle.

Maybe Caye Caulker’s bigger brother/sister San Pedro is “the one”? I am just about to find out.

Caye Calker in Pictures

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… sunshine.. and very comfortable temperatures that didn’t require 10 layers of clothing… and 

Flores is a teeny tiny island on Lago Petén Itzá, connected to land by a causeway. It doesn’t take more than 15 minutes to round it. During my visit, the outer loop road was partially flooded, so I could only take a stroll on the inner loop to round the lake. 

As in Coban the main reason for visiting the island is its proximity to other attractions, like Tikal for example, the most famous Maya ruins in Guatemala. I came to Flores simply because it was the most convenient pit stop on my way to the warmer latitudes. Having been freezing for so long I no longer cared for any ruins or any other attractions for that matter. My only focus was getting out of the highlands and the bitter chill asap so that I could take most of my layers off, put on the flip-flops and soak the Caribbean sunshine on sandy beaches.

Flores took me by surprise. Big time. It is a real pearl. The most picturesque and charming village you can imagine. As any other place in Guatemala, it needs a lot of plumbing work, general maintenance, and buckets of paint but there is no way anyone can deny it its charm.

In the middle of the village, on the top of the hill, there is (as it should be) the Central Park, and right in the middle of it next to the church and other municipal buildings, the villagers found as good a place as any for… a basketball court. 

Not sure how many inhabitants live in Flores full time. However, I am pretty sure it has more hotel beds per 100 inhabitants than any other place I know. There is no shortage of restaurants either. In fact, this is all there is: hotels, restaurants, tourist agencies and souvenir shops. (Bit touristy?) Other than that? There isn’t all that much to do or see – with an exception of walking the charming streets. Unless you rent a boat and visit the local museum located on an even smaller island on the lake or Petencito Zoo located on the other side or take a walk over the causeway to the neighboring towns on the mainland – Santa Elena and/or San Benito. The latter two, however, are better left alone after dark.

My office away from the office was a dream. Two decks, one on each floor, right on the lake where I could not only write and contemplate, but also order food, drinks and socialize with other guests. I stayed on the island for two nights and wanted to extend my stay for two more but could not as the hotel was fully booked for the next two weeks. Who’d know my home away from home was also home away from home for so many other travelers.

Thanks to Oliver, one great German guy from Munich who owns and runs The Flores Waterfront Hotel Lacadon the German way. It was the second time I was staying in a place run by a Westerner (the first one was run by a Dutch in Leon, Nicaragua) and must say I appreciated both my stays. Immensely. For no matter how fascinating other cultures may be, sometimes it is very comforting to come ‘home’. Even if it is only for two nights.

Sunshine, comfortable temperatures, picturesque town, office away from the office and a home away from home. Flores will stay with me for a long time to come.  

Flores in Pictures

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It took 5 hours to get there, partly on a two-lane (one in each direction), partly on one-lane (ongoing construction) serpentine-like road zigzagging through rocky and very dusty highlands.

Cobán itself is (supposed to be) the most uninteresting place, which is interesting in itself, as you get to see a typical Guatemalan town with hardly any tourists to influence the environment. Whoever comes to Cobán doesn’t come to visit Cobán but to visit the neighboring Mayan villages. Cobán is just a starting point for other destinations. For all, but me. I came to Cobán for Cobán – to do nothing and to write. 

As soon as I entered my room, I knew things weren’t quite right. It wasn’t a nice cozy room, it wasn’t my office away from the office with a lovely deck. It was a… freezer. Raw, humid and bitter cold with the max temperature of  5 degrees Centigrade (41F). OMG. What have I done to deserve this? I abandoned hiking up the Aqua Volcano as well as visiting Lake Atitlan (supposedly the most beautiful lake in the world) for some warmth and I ended up here? A place much colder than the one I left it for? 

The instincts told me to run for my life even though I had already paid for three nights. But my stubbornness, on the other hand, was deviously whispering into my ear: You came here to write THAT post (I think) so DO IT. You cannot give up. You’ll manage. So I stayed, and ‘faced the music’. 

I asked to change the room for less drafty one inside the building and spend the next three days in bed trying to keep my body temperature at survivable level. Drank as much hot tea as I only managed during the 30 seconds I had before it became freezing cold. Put on whatever clothes I could and didn’t take them off during my entire stay, got under five blankets leaving only fingers out so that I could type while counting seconds to my departure. But even that didn’t help much. Sheets, pillows, blankets could not keep me warm(er) as they were icy cold and damp due to the bitter rawness and humidity in the room. The towel I never used was soaking wet. Not that I needed it as there was no way I could shower, there was no way I could take off one single bit of clothing. There was no escape. I was about to give up. Many times. 

Got none sympathy from my friends either. They checked AccuWeather online and teased me: “Five degrees? Not a biggy. It is colder where we are”. What they didn’t understand was that while it was cold outside in their countries it was nice and warm in their homes. I  didn’t have that comfort. The temperature inside my home was the same as the temperature outside. In fact, due to the chill factor, it felt much colder. Subtract the dampness and rawness that have been sitting deep in the walls ever since the house was built from 5 degrees and you may get an idea. For me, there was no escape from the bitter chill. Outdoors, indoors didn’t make any difference. The only people who understood the situation were my fellow travelers out of Cobán. They also spend their entire stay in bed trying to preserve whatever heat they could.

(And, btw, it never even crossed my mind Central America could be so freezing cold. My suitcase is full of bathing suits and summer dresses that I have yet to wear but lacks sweaters, jackets, hats, and gloves or anything else that protects from cold).

So, how was Cobán?

Hmm, I don’t really know. Freezing cold?

I don’t think I spend more than an hour sightseeing the town and took only 29 pictures. Still, the little bit I glimpsed at felt rather local and provincial. High narrow curbs, quite a bit of traffic, fruit/vegetable stalls everywhere. And of course, as anywhere else in Central America, The Central Park. This one was, however, somewhat different – there were few large tents right in the center selling books. I don’t want to sound judgemental but it is very unusual seen in small towns of Central Ameria.

Cold or warm, there is nothing to see/do here anyhow. The one thing of interest (?) was the locals’ obsession with shoe shining. Everyone,  in town: men. women, kids, cued to have their shoes shined. 

…and the best for last?

But the strangest thing of all was … surprise, surprise… fine dining. Yes, who’d know there is fine dining in Cobán – La Abadia. The city also has a few first-class restaurants (Kardamomuss, Casa D’Acuna). Unfortunately, I never made to any of them. I needed no fine dining in my despair, all I wanted was comfort food. So I dined at the best (and cleanest) Chinese restaurant in town – Restaurante Cantonés.

p.s. I don’t need to tell you but the happiest day for the longest time was the morning I left Cobán.

Cobán in Pictures?

Well, there are no pictures. What You See (above) Is What You Get. I took only 29, some of them are doubles, some of them are of shoe shiners. The rest of my shooting time I spend in bed trying not to freeze to death  

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La Antigua was to be my home base for at least four weeks. My home where I would walk lovely and well preserved colonial streets, admire the amazing baroque influenced architecture, sip on the coffee in stylish cafes, breath culture, socialize with many expats who made Antigua their home, get inspired, do tons of writing and above all shoot, shoot and shoot. 

It took a while to get there. But once I got there I couldn’t have been happier to have arrived. Couldn’t have been happier to have found an accommodation right next to the Central Park with rooftop from where I would take the most amazing shots of the most amazing city. At night. I was so looking forward to shooting again at night, an activity I’d done so little of lately due to discomfort walking the streets alone after sunset. Now I had a chance.

If I only had a chance. Instead, it all came crashing down at me the very first evening. Stomach bug followed by cold. I spend most of my first three days in bed. My Central Park hotel was dark, freezing cold and depressing. Not a home away from home. Very disappointing. And so was the town itself. Not as pretty, not as charming and not as well preserved as I thought it will be but rather worn down provincial town in need of plumbing, maintenance and lots of paint ‘paved’ with razor-sharp uneven cobblestones making sidewalks and streets almost impossible to walk and drive on. Bump, bump, bump. Not at all in the class with Granada in Nicaragua. Not even close. 

I didn’t even last a week. As much as I love colonial living in the tropics I hate it in a more moderate climate. Dark, drafty homes with no heating at all designed for lowlands but build in the highlands where the temperatures drop to 10 degrees Centigrade are unlivable (or require years of getting used to). 10 C outdoors is one thing but 10 C indoors + chill factor (humidity and rawness) is pure torture. A deal breaker. 

If you cannot stand the heat get out of the oven. Then, if you cannot stand the cold get out of the freezer? 

As much as I wanted to hike to the top of Aqua volcano I had to abandon that plan. Too cold. As much as I wanted to visit (supposedly) the most beautiful lake in the world – Lake Atitlan, I had to abandon that plan as well. Too cold and wrong direction. I may go back there one day, but for now, I had no other choice but to leave the highlands of Guatemala and travel East towards the Caribbean coast and a promise of sunshine and higher temperatures. The cold stormy winds of Central Valley blew me out of Costa Rica and now the highlands froze me out of Guatemala. 

In the search for some warmth, I set off for a 14-hour shuttle journey to Belize. My first stopover 5 hours later was a town of Cobán. Little that I knew…

Antigua in Pictures

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Some come for months (retired surfers), some come for weeks, some for a few days, some for a weekend (El Salvadorians from the capital) and some (like myself) just pass by on the way to Antigua in Guatemala or León in Nicaragua depending from which direction they travel.

There are plenty of hotels, hostels, restaurants, bars, beach bars in the village. In fact, this is all there is. The beach bars and the beach face sunset which is always very appreciated and draws crowds every single night.

If you come for a long haul (few weeks) you can rent very presentable accommodation with own bathroom and a hot shower right on the beach for only 10 USD/night incl surfboard. Cheap accommodation, cheap food, perfect climate (at least in January), working wi-fi, USD as local currency and surely more things I don’t even know about makes El Tunco a perfect winter destination and playground for a large number ‘hibernating’ surfers of all ages. 

Playa El Tunco is a rocky beach – 10 months a year. The short ‘sandy season’ when the beach reclaims the sand from the ocean is in December and January. I was lucky to come just at the right time. The beach was sandy and kids friendly. The sand, as anywhere else on the Pacific coast, was black and took ‘hours’ to wash off but was pleasant enough to walk on.

The water? Well, it is Pacific. Cold … I suppose… but I haven’t tested it. 

Even though I enjoyed my visit at Playa El Tunco, even though I enjoyed my lazy days in the hammock (sorry for the bad quality of the photo – someone else took it), even though I enjoyed the warm and dry climate (January) I wasn’t particularly unhappy to have to leave all that behind me and move on to the next destination.

For as much as I enjoyed my stay, I cannot say Playa El Tunco is my kind of paradise. So, still searching…

El Tunco Beach

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Someone who travels with a suitcase.

If you like comfort if you like to travel in style then you need to take a bus. Some bus companies (e.g. Hedman) provide super fancy buses equipped with super fancy latest gadgets, bathrooms, bed like seats, foot/head/armrests, blankets, pillows, air con, snacks… AND… they are cheaper than the shuttle.

So, why don’t I take a bus? Because buses operate only between bus stations. There is no pickup and there is no drop-off. To get to the bus station and later from the bus station to my new destination I need to take a taxi.

Traveling with a suitcase is stressful enough. Traveling with a suitcase and having to deal with 50 years old piece of junk called the taxi and taxi drivers too smart for their own good is a tad more than I like to handle. Immobilized by my suitcase I am the target and, quite frankly, I hate to put myself in a vulnerable situation. Add to that the messy and sweaty job of dragging/pulling the suitcase on a dirt ‘paved’ station while looking for the right bus. Nah, thank you very much. Not a good way to start a trip. I’d walk to the station… if I only had a backpack. But I don’t. so I take a shuttle.

Shuttles take about 12 people. No fancy gadgets, not much room leg, in fact, no much room at all (unless you sit right behind the driver), but 3-5 hours on the road is easy enough to manage. You can add few hours if the shuttle is half empty or if you are half the age. 

It is 680 km between León in Nicaragua and Antigua in Guatemala, four borders, and 14-16 hours on a two-lane (one lane in each direction) pretty bad (most of the time) and busy road. My plan was to travel 4-5 hours at a time, make a two, three-day stopover in Honduras and then in El Salvador before reaching my final destination in Guatemala. The ‘master plan’ behind it was not only to make the trip easier on my bones but (above all) to take a glimpse at the two no-go zones – Honduras and El Salvador. A little adrenaline kick. 

Things didn’t quite work out as planned. There was nowhere to stop in Honduras. There was no town, no village, no hotel en route to Guatemala where the shuttle could drop me off and later pick me up. If I wanted to stop in Honduras, I’d need to travel some 14 hours to the Caribbean side (wrong direction) or take a chicken bus and go offroad which was not an option. Thus, I had to abandon my wish to spend time in Honduras and traveled directly to El Tunco in El Salvador.

Border crossing

Note: the shuttle leaves León at 2 a.m. (not fun). The same time also applies from the other direction – Antigua. 

Crossing all four borders went smooth – another advantage of taking the shuttle. 12 people vs 50 can save a good few hours. In addition, whenever possible, the drivers do the job for you: collect passports and exit/entry fees so you don’t even have to leave the van. They all speak English and, if need be, help with translations and assist with immigration. Should there be a problem at the border, the shuttle will wait for you. The bus will not.

Nicaragua

NOTE VISA: when you enter one of these four countries, Nicaragua, Honduras, El Salvador, Guatemala, you enter them all: that is you need only one visa (if you need any) to enter the foursome. Also, the total time you can stay in the area is three months – you will not get another three months just because you e.g. leave Honduras for El Salvador.

Nicaragua EXIT – very easy. Fee 7 USD. (4 for Nicaragua exit and 3 for Honduras entry). The driver collected all passports and exit/entry fees. We stayed in the van. The whole procedure took maybe 15 minutes.

Honduras

Honduras ENTRY. Potentially most time-consuming border. We were lucky – first ones to arrive. Only one immigration window was open. We were photographed and fingerprinted. All in all 40 minutes. A bus full of people can waste a good few hours on this border.

note 1: VERY IMPORTANT – make sure you have your fingerprints taken otherwise it may cost you 200 USD in penalty/bribe during exit. Sometimes people traveling on chicken buses miss that moment (and I wonder if they are not deliberately misled into doing that). Make sure you are not one of them.

note 2: try not to lose the small pieces of paper immigration officers put into your passport

Entering Honduras was like entering another planet. We almost drowned in the sea of rubbish. Plastic bottles, paper, wrappings. containers – you name it. Shocking. I never saw anything like that. The road was very bad and boring. Other than dead trees along the way, on either side, there was nothing else to see. Depressing.

Honduras EXIT – no glitches. No fees. They matched out fingerprints with the ones taken during entry. Make sure you have your fingerprints taken during entry.

El Salvador

El Salvador ENTRY – walk in the park. No fees. Some 10 immigration windows open. This border is nicknamed ‘the easy one’.

Entering El Salvador felt like leaving a bad dream behind. Only a few hundred meters in the country we stopped at the gas station to fill up the tank and to have a breakfast. I wasn’t going to have any. But once I saw the station and the breakfast they served I changed my mind. Super modern and spotless place serving fresh just cooked appetizing looking, deliciously tasting breakfast. And they charged in USD. Like Panama, El Salvador adopted USD as its own currency. I couldn’t resist.

Three hours later we arrived at El Tunco, a beach resort on the Pacific coast and my ‘fun in the sun’ place for the next three days. Three days later the shuttle once again picked me up and I continued my journey to Guatemala. 

note: the shuttle is scheduled for 12 (ish), however, it may be delayed if there were some border issues or tons of traffic – after all, it comes all the way from León in Nicaragua. We left on time. (If the eventual delay is substantial they send another shuttle to meet the delayed one.)

Guatemala

El Salvador EXIT: walk in the park. No fees

Guatemala ENTRY: walk in the park. No fees. It took four hours from the start in El Tunco to the drop off in Antigua.

Security

“It is safe here BUT if you go to X… then ...” Then I go to X … and they tell me exactly the same thing. Over and over again; in Panama, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Honduras, El Salvador, Guatemala.

So I asked some more, this time in Facebook groups. And ‘they’ tell me “Don’t go“, “Are you crazy?”, “I would never go“. “I have heard this, and I have heard that“, “My friend told me“, and so on and so forth. El Salvador and Honduras are no-go zones – by second, third, fourth hand accounts. Not once did anyone tell me: “This happened to ME while visiting X“. All the stories, every single one of them, were referring to other people’s accounts. 

The very few blogs I found written by people who actually visited the no-go zone countries were nothing but positive. They all described humble, welcoming and generous people who only wanted to show the beauty of their countries and to help.

… and the rumors?

What about the rumors of shuttles (used almost exclusively by tourists) traveling at night being targeted by gangs? It happened once or twice many years ago that a gang held up and robbed the shuttle but it is an extremely rare occurrence. If anything, the chicken buses are at more risk. 

What about tourists being mugged at knifepoint? That can happen anywhere in the world if you’re dumb enough to stroll a no-go zone alone and drunk in the middle of the night. 

Ok then, so what about the statistics? According to the statistics, the triangle Honduras, El Salvador, Guatemala is one of the most violent regions in the world; according to the statistics, Honduras is rated today as number one homicide country in the world (it used to be El Salvador) and its current political unrest makes matters even worse; according to the statistics …

All true, HOWEVER, all those crimes are drug and gang dominance related. So, unless you are a gang member, sell drugs, or walk around alone at 2 a.m. drunk and vulnerable you have nothing to worry about. For extra precaution don’t travel at night and don’t show off all your bling – but, as anywhere else in the world, use common sense. Amen.

And above all – enjoy your trip and have fun. 

p.s. Happy Birthday Linnea

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The two cities have been fierce rivals ever since the day they were founded by Spanish colonialists. Be it capital town privileges, number of historic churches, spectacular residences or this or that. It never ends. Until now?

Even though León is the second largest city in Nicaragua, home to the second oldest University of Central America and the largest cathedral in Central America, political center of Nicaragua, cradle of Nicaraguan nationalism (Sandinista Front) proudly documented on numerous murals, the nation’s intellectual and cultural center attracting many students, artists, poets, and most probably plenty of other things I don’t know about… still, the vibe of the city feels more like a vibe of small provincial village in the middle of nowhere than a prominent city.

I found León ugly, dirty and poor. Over 200.000 people living in the same dirty grey looking one-story houses on very much the same dirty grey looking streets. Only a few houses have a fresh coat of paint. The rest is… dirty grey. Once you leave the center (I imagine) the only difference you may notice will be different shades of grey. With only a few exceptions, all cars, including police cars, are wrecks that belong in the junkyard and not on the streets. Locals seem to love their local beer more than anything else. Bars begin to fill up first thing in the morning and are busy all day long. What a contrast from smoothie drinking Costa Rican men. The climate is much hotter than in other places I visited with almost no breeze at all.

(As they say) beauty in the eye of the beholder. León was not easy on my eye. Not as bad as Masaya, which is my least favorite town in Central America, but not much better. Other than the cathedral, few old grey churches, and maybe few murals there isn’t so much to see or do. This could be the reason why most tourist attractions concentrate on out-of-town activities and not the city itself. The tourists that come to visit, almost exclusively backpackers, come for volcano trekking and volcano boarding. After that experience, a 30-minute bus ride to the beach is ‘on the menu’. And then off they go to the next place. Either Granada or El Tunco in El Salvador – depending on which way they travel.

On a positive note:

• it never is all bad, sometimes it is a good idea to come to less attractive places and catch up on other things, e.g.the blog.  

• León was the first city in Central America where I felt safe. And it wasn’t only me – in no other place did I see so many DSLRs hanging around visitors’ necks as in León. Yet there were hardly any police around. The few policemen I saw looked friendly and didn’t carry shotguns with them. I had no problem walking alone and taking pictures after sunset, an activity I  was very uncomfortable doing in all other Central America cities.

• I spend my week in León in a hostel, in a private but hostel, nonetheless. Casa Ivana turned out to be just renovated, one dorm, 7 privates hot water hostel attracting older travelers and owned by a super nice Dutch guy.

  Traveling solo can at times be lonely. I needed to meet other travelers, exchange information and above all hear from people arriving from Honduras and El Salvador the real stories and the latest news about current political unrest in Honduras (ranked (by far) number 1 homicide country in the world) and gang activities targeting tourists in El Salvador (ranked 4 – used to be 1)  as both of those countries are my next destination…

… And I am leaving in one hour. Stay tuned. 

León in Pictures

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Colonial Masterpiece

The master plan behind colonial houses (and cities) was the safety of families and their household animals (and the city itself, or maybe the other way around). 

Thus, a typical colonial house is not just one house but (surprise, surprise) two; two parallel houses facing one street each, 50, 100, 200 meters away, North/South or East/West. And between the houses – the jewel of colonial living – a courtyard. The bigger the better – the bigger the courtyard the bigger the house(s). The super rich may have not two but four houses surrounding all four sides of a giant courtyard. Large or small, a courtyard is always the heart of the household. A kingdom with chilling “city walls” on the outside and steamy hot family life on the inside. 

Granada, Central American colonial jewel, is undergoing a major facelift. Many of the houses have already been (beautifully) refurbished, many others are in the process of being refurbished, other ones… still in waiting. Some of them are sold to expats, some of them are turned into hostels, other ones into restaurants. Regardless of occupants and modernizations – one thing remains intact – the courtyard.

The courtyard is a center point of every colonial house, a natural place where families and friends or hostel guests gather (often by the pool these days). All restaurants, besides the sidewalk tables, have extra sittings in their courtyards for the guests who enjoy the more private setting. Family life and all household work in private residences take place in the heart of the house – in the courtyard. 

(My) Colonial Living

During my visit to Granada, I rented an Airbnb room in a colonial house and thereby an opportunity to glimpse into colonial living which was both fascinating and very educational.

There were only three people in my house; my host – a guy of maybe 35, his mother and the mother’s sister. Their house (the green one), other than the fresh paint, doesn’t look much for the world, does it? But once you enter it…

Colonial Interiors (the first house)

Once you enter a colonial house, you typically come directly into a large room (which could be turned into a shop or some other business today), followed by another large room(s)  and/or dining room, tv-room. They just come, one after another. The larger house the more rooms. The kitchen is at the end, right at the back of the house. Then comes the courtyard. There are no doors between the rooms. In larger houses, there may also be a couple of other smaller rooms, with doors, (former maids quarters?) handy today as extra bedrooms. Master bedroom along with one or two or more extra (bed)rooms are upstairs. Behind a lovely and breezy deck with a hammock facing the yard. Hammocks can be found everywhere; on decks, landings, courtyards and even inside rooms. 

Colonial Courtyard

Once you enter the courtyard you also enter another world. There are trees, flowers, garden furniture for family gatherings, a playground for kids, maybe even a pool. There is also another kitchen with BBQ, laundry facility, open air dryer, bathroom, store rum and whatever else a family may need. In refurbished houses, people install extra bathrooms inside and a pool in the courtyards.

The courtyard is a center of all activities. Work and pleasure.  

The master planners seemed to have thought about everything incl sanitation. Not to jeopardize families’ health the courtyards were big, as big as only possible. Families used to keep household animals incl horses in their courtyards – some may still do it even today. There is no shortage of horses in Granada. Some of them ‘work’ for the tourist industry but most of them are mere means of transportation for families and goods.

When I arrived there were three hens in ‘my’ courtyard but vanished later. I guess they were all part of Christmas dinner.

My host family didn’t use the indoor kitchen. Not for the cooking. Most of the cooking took place in the courtyard above an open fire. Slow cook camping style. But what surprised me (rather amused) the most was the washing facilities.

Another surprise was the host himself and my stereotyped way of looking at Latino men and their mothers. Well, in this household it wasn’t the mother (or aunt) who did daily chores for their only son/nephew. It was “the baby of the house’  himself who did all his own cleaning (incl Airbnb room), cooking, and laundry, all that besides a full-time job and four-hour commute. A week of laundry takes two hours to wash. Yet he didn’t think there was any need for a washing machine as the current facility (which was just replaced) works way better. 

The (secret) Second House 

The second house is very much a copy of the first one but (often) smaller. I lived in “the second house”. There was only one large bedroom upstairs, no deck with a hammock but a longish landing facing the courtyard and a small balcony facing the other street and (best of all) an en-suite bathroom. Three windows and two doors supplied all the fresh air I needed, and some. A narrow, not more than 50 cm wide spiral flight of stairs connected courtyard with the upstairs. 

The furniture in my room was typical Nicaraguan – wooden chairs and wooden coffee table. Exactly the same furniture you’ll find in every Nicaraguan home. (You’ve seen one you’ve seen them all.)

The living room downstairs was partially my host’s mother’s own tv room and partially… a garage. Doors to the house were large so there was no problem driving the car into the house. Great strategic planning lies behind those large gate-like doors – logistics – to connect the two streets. To make a passage for horses. This is why there are no doors between the rooms. No doors, no hinder for the horses to make a crossing to the other side.

Only luxury hotels have air con. Family homes in Nicaragua and Costa Rica and probably in the whole of Central America use fans. Most of the households, incl hotels/hostels, don’t have hot water. My first encounter with lack of hot water happened in ‘my’ colonial house. What can I say? Not a fan. Another thing I was missing, which is also seldom used in this part of the world, was window/door screen. To keep the few bugs out I had to close all doors and windows at night (5 p,m, ish) and turn on the fan rather than let the natural cool breeze in which would be so much more economical and so much nicer.

Colonial Breeze

Breeze. It is all about letting the cool breeze in. The brilliant construction of the houses helps maximize ventilation by letting the fresh breeze in from both North and South or East and West. The breeziest place in the house seems to be right by the front door. It is where families love to gather. The still better place is right outside on the pavement/steps in front of the house, especially in smaller houses I took a while to understand why would anybody like to sit there. And once again the masterminds of colonial construction proved their brilliance – for once you step outside you’ll get the breeze not only from North/South but also from East/West. 

p.s. Happy New Year

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Waving down buses is a new concept to me but I like being picked up or dropped off any place I choose (as long it is on the bus route). Not sure why (perhaps too many passengers were getting on/off) but the ride took about 40 minutes and not 20 as most travel guides advertise. The fare was a whopping 10 Cordobas (0.32 USD). One way.

We arrived at the bus station right in the middle of the market. Not THAT market. There are two markets in town, the municipal one for locals and the artsy one for tourists but (if the truth be told) the whole downtown is one big market where anything and everything can be purchased and sold.

The layout of the city is almost an exact copy of Granada, including Central Park and the Lake (another lake). Yet the two are not even comparable. Such a contrast to Granada. In Masaya the streets are dirty, houses in desperate need of maintenance, colors long faded, stray dogs in abundance begging for food. No charm anywhere, no picturesque houses, no cozy restaurants or bars. Nothing. Ugly and boring town cluttered with cheap merchandise. I walked Market Street all the way down from the bus station/municipal market to the lake passing by the handicraft market and the Central Park on the way. Most of the walking I had to do on the street as the street market ‘confiscated’ all sidewalks.

Once I passed the Central Park, the street market with all its shops, stalls and people vanished. All of it. I entered an almost deserted residential area with uneasy feeling creeping all over me. I felt very uncomfortable walking alone, didn’t dare to take one single shot and was about to turn around a few times. But my sheer determination kept me going on and, eventually, 10 minutes later I reached the lake or rather very colorful but also almost deserted park/playground for the kids.

The lake was much smaller than in Granada, overgrown with vegetation and not accessible, there weren’t any beaches. The view from the park was nice though. With an exception of a few teenagers just hanging out, there were no people. Maybe locals come later in the day. All cafes but one were closed. I took a few shots and walked back to the street market. This time I stopped at the famous Masaya artisan market. After all, the artisan market was the reason I came to Masaya.

What a disappointment. I repeat. What a disappointment. (Five exclamations marks would be in place here)

Even though the setup was lovely, in old ruins of the ancient market, the hyped Masaya handicraft (super) market turned out to be only a few stalls selling the same staff as the municipal market but for triple prices. Bad, bad, bad shopping. Mostly hammocks, leather bags, and souvenirs you can get anywhere else in Nicaragua.

The best with Masaya Artisan Market were the few eateries serving authentic ethnic dishes. The lunch I had, a stew of some sort, was delicious and worth every penny (4.50 USD)… and a chicken bus ride.

The stew (meat with boiled yucca and pickled cabbage slaw) was served in a rather unusual but (ah) so smart and convenient way. A wooden plate was put into a plastic bag, banana leaf on the top, and food on the banana leaf. An instant doggy bag if you like to take your leftovers with you or trash bag if you don’t. The plastic bag with leftovers is tossed away and clean plate reused. No washing up necessary. Environment-friendly? Not so sure but definitely this way of serving food saves lots of water and time . 

After lunch, I went straight back to the station and took a chicken bus back to Granada. Needless to say, I will not be coming back. I may, however, take another ride on the chicken bus.

Masaya in Pictures

Not too many I am afraid. Masaya is not the best location for shooting pictures. I felt as I had to take more caution than usual. 

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