21 June 2008 - Chapter Four: I Fell Into a Ring of Fire

“Leon and Granada! I don’t believe you will find two cities in the world more different in appearance or two peoples more different in their characteristics.” This quote, by a man named Mario Sancho, aptly describes the situation between Leon and Granada. The old rivalry between the two cities can be traced back as far as the colonial period, and has survived to this very day. In an attempt to nullify the rivalry, Managua was named the capital of the country in 1852. But the compromise failed to quell the contention between the two. Leon is the educational and liberal north, Granada the conservative and well-off south. Leon is the yin to Granada’s yang. But despite their differences, both offer the tourist a wonderful experience.

Without doubt, Granada is the most beautiful city in Nicaragua. Not that it has many rivals for the title. Still, all the same Granada is very pleasing to the eye. We got good vibes from the place as soon as we arrived. Right up until I learnt that our hostel was being sued by a rich neighbour and could no longer serve beer or allow tomfoolery of any variety… Luckily Granada has plenty of places to go out to get sozzled at night, so I survived the initial fright of having to be sober during the day. The hostel we stayed in was the Bearded Monkey, which, apart from the prohibition and the ridiculous name, was a nice spot, with a large range of DVDs, large spacious rooms, and was situated close to the centre. They also whip up a decent breakfast. Having settled in we left our bags and decided to explore the city. It was surprisingly westernised, but not in the sense of there being a McDonalds on every street corner more in the way that there were lots of bars, restaurants and shops for tourists, which surprisingly didn’t ruin the authenticity of the town. There were also noticeably more white people in Granada than anywhere else in Nicaragua I had been so far. But the interaction between the locals and the whites was a lot more natural than anywhere else I had visited. What’s more, there seemed to be a sizeable amount of white people living in the town. We in fact met a shop owner who had moved to Granada from California, providing the girls with an ‘Oh I live like, right beside there!’ conversation, leaving me to wander around the ladies only clothes shop. Leaving the girls to converse about high heels and French men or whatever it is girls talk about together, I decided to find and purchase a pair of flip-flops, or, as the Aussies so curiously name them, thongs. I decided to first try the market on the main square. Unfortunately, all it seemed to sell were rude novelty items, the funniest of which was a collection of stuffed frogs humping in various, often precarious positions. Increasingly tempted to purchase the pair attempting the wheelbarrow, I saw the enormous price tag. In retrospect, I know it would have been a very silly purchase. Silly but hilarious. That night, we assembled a group from the hostel and made an expedition to the café nuit live music bar.

No one had died from the previous nights’ excursion, which involved ‘Ring of Fire’, a drinking game consisting of copious amounts of alcohol intake. I took this as a good omen for the rest of the day. Taking this into consideration, I don’t think I’d have made a good local shaman, as it rained for the rest of the duration of our stay. This meant we missed out on a trip to Lake Apoyo, part of the Apoyo Lagoon National Reserve, situated near the market town of Masaya. The absolute highlight of Granada though, had to be The Waffle House, an American style breakfast and lunch establishment which served an almighty breakfast. An added bonus is the Australians attempting to speak Spanish with an Aussie accent. Nothing beats entertainment like an Oz accented gracias.

One cannot be prepared for Granada. The town provides bizarre twists and turns round every corner. You think you have the grasp of the town. It’s Nicaragua’s cleanest and most westernised city. Then you turn the bend and you’re faced with a herd of goats and chickens. One evening was particularly out of the ordinary Chelsea had taken up the offer of a (French I think…) couple who wanted to do a nude portrait. Courtney and I were of course slightly apprehensive about this but thought it quite fantastic at the same time. So that night, we accompanied her and Rebecca to the couples’ house. Unfortunately we weren’t allowed in, so Courtney and I went to a bar just down the road. Thinking a few drinks would ease our little worries away, we ordered a couple of beers. Now I had never waited for anyone to complete a nude portrait before, but I knew it coudn't take much longer than an hour. After a few more beers we realised that the girls had been in there for a lot longer than we had expected them to be, so we stumbled to the entrance to wait there. There was no sign of the girls. We got worried. Far more worried than we would have been if sober. So we cautiously knocked on the door, both of us ready to drunkenly storm the house if we thought anything suspicious, my beer can was readying itself to be transformed into a wepon of lethalness. Thankfully everything was ok, but I still sometimes wish to this day that Courtney and I could have been heroes, slayed the evil French painters and rescued the maidens fair. Instead we sat on the porch waiting, having sad drunken conversations with one or two manly man hugs thrown in for good measure.

Leaving Granada was a sad day we left behind a beautiful and vibrant town with an incredible waffle house. But we also lost several travelling companions, and it was the trio back on the road again, this time heading to the volcanic lake island of Ometepe.