We got into Granada yesterday afternoon after sleeping in, or rather sleeping one off, after our last night in Leon. This city is one of the most beautiful we have seen on our trip, and it is obvious why this has become the ex-patriot capital of Nicaragua. I’m sure we’ll be here at least through Friday – Granada is big and beautiful, and begging to be explored.
Our time in Leon was slow-paced and relaxing, with countless hours spent reading in hammocks and playing pool with the Germans and the Swiss. I was sleeping in bed #1 at “Hostel Bigfoot,” which everybody kept referring to as the “cursed bed.” Apparently two different people had managed to fall from it on the previous two nights, after spending the evening drinking in the courtyard. It’s a second-story bunk bed, so the fall left both of them in pretty bad shape. I guess I managed to break the curse, though apparently my roommates were keeping a close tally of how many drinks I had on my first night, placing bets on whether or not I would complete the trifecta.
As always, the hostel was filled with interesting folks, with people from France, Germany, Switzerland, Canada, Sweden, and the US. But one particular town was especially well represented, in a statistical anomaly that virtually defies explanations. Of the 25 guests from all over the world, there were five people from the town of Gainesville, Florida. That’s 20% of the travelers. It’s even more dumbfounding when you consider how few Americans travel here compared to Europeans. I had gone to Santa Fe Community College with two of them, but we’d never crossed paths before. And guess what, Una’s dad owns Leonardo’s Pizza. It’s a smaller world than I could ever have used.
The Semana Santa processions were much smaller, more somber affairs than those we witnessed in Antigua. Most consisted of three or four floats, accompanied by perhaps 200 worshippers who recited the Lord’s Prayer while slowly making their ways through the streets of the city. For some reason there were no colored-sawdust street paintings, which bummed us all out.
Anyhow, after a few days of reading and shooting pool at the hostel, Chad, myself, and our German buddy Manuel decided to take a hike out into the countryside to visit an old abandoned fort on a hill somewhere south of town. We had been told that it was at most a 3 kilometer trek, a perfectly accomplishable task, even in 101 degree heat. So carrying nothing but cameras and one small bottle of water between the three of us, we took off down the pock-marked dirt road that leads south out of Guadalupe Cemetery.
Three hours later, at least three miles from where we had started, we knew something was wrong – either the fort didn’t exist or we were on the wrong dirt road. With our water supplies long-since depleted, we stood there in the middle of the road, baking under thee afternoon sun, hoping against hope for a car to pass by so we could at least hitch hike back into town. It had been over an hour since we had seen any sort of vehicle, so hopes were low at best.
Finally some local pre-teens roade by on their bicycles, and we inquired about the whereabouts of the missing fort. They said there was in fact something – “un monumento” – about a half kilometer down the road. Figuring we’d gone too far to give up, we trekked the final stretch of the road, finally stumbling upon the long-sought monument. And what a monument it was. A two-foot cylinder of concrete, with the name Alejandro Garcia Garcia carved into the top. We had a delirious, half-insane-from-the-heat fit of laughter before collapsing on the side of the road. Lady Luck returned though, and within ten minutes a friendly local family had picked us up in their 4x4 and we made it back to town before the sun set.
With the end of Semanan Santa, the hostel emptied on Monday, with everyone heading to whatever destination was next on their itinerary. I know I’ve said it before, but the fleeting nature of friendship on the road is a remarkable thing….

Some Photos:

Scarlet Macaw in the trees at Copan Ruinas.
Closeup Detail of the Hieroglyphic Staircase
Stellae carving of King 18 Rabbit, Copan
Great explorer photo
Dead on the Sacrificial Altar
Downtown Tegucigalpa
A Drunken Local Named Martha and Chad at our Hostel Bar in Tegus
Graffiti in Leon – My Sister’s Favorite
Crazy Leon Mural Entitled “Headless Preacher and Golden Crab”
Memorial to the Sandinista Revolt
Open Grave in Leon
What We Hiked through To Get to the Monument
And the Monument (with Chad and Manuel)!
Typical Night at Hostel Bigfoot
Downtown Granada
Iglesia de San Francisco, Granada
Looking Towards Downtown