In the hills

I was much more comfortable on terra firma, than I was climbing 30 feet up a ladder in strong winds to the rusty, old viewpoint (below).

We spent last week staying with a family in a community called Sontule up in the mountains in the north of the country. The whole area is now a nature reserve which should help prevent more deforestation. Most families have small plots of land growing coffee, in amongst banana plants and jungle-like forest. The scenery is stunningly beautiful with undulating green mountains, covered in forests and dotted with rural houses and farms for as far as you can see. We have failed to capture this in any of our photos but hopefully, Simon will do so at some point as, from next week, he's going to be spending three days per week here teaching English to children and a youth group that wants to learn English for tourism.

The 'village' is set around a big hill. It takes about an hour and a half with lots of walking up and down to circumnavigate it. The houses are all spread out and have no mainline electricity or running water. Better off families have houses with several rooms built with concrete breeze blocks and tin roofs; poorer houses look like they only have one or two rooms and are built from mud, wood and straw, maybe with an old tin roof. The toilet is a drop loo, smelly affair at the bottom of the garden. The toilet. Not too bad first thing, but full of big, buzzing flies by midday. More bearable with the door open.

The view from our bedroom window of a coffee plant with green beans, they should be ripe and ready for picking come December.

There's one bus a day to the community when it's not too wet, otherwise it's walking here from another bus route two hours away, or horseback. There was lots of rain while we were there, so much so, that to get back down to Esteli, the bus had to stop and put chains on the wheels to stop it sliding off the muddy tracks and down the mountain.

As seems to be the case in the countryside here, most people are related to one another in some way and extended families either live together or opposite one another. We stayed with Don Rogelio and his wife Dona Lucia and their youngest son, Rogelito. Their other children, brothers and sisters, and nieces and nephews, all live nearby and drop in regularly.Simon in his borrowed jumper to stave off the morning and evening chill in the mountains, with Dona Lucia, Don Rogelio, and two of their sons, Rogelito and Marlon.

The slightly better off families, like the one where we stayed, have a solar panel which powers a tv with a terrible reception for a couple of hours in the evening, when everyone gathers around to watch very melodramatic Colombian soaps. The kitchen is in a separate building to the house and meals (rice, beans and tortilla are the staple foods) are cooked using firewood.

The village has a small scale tourism project, which consists of a trickle of tourists coming up, staying with local families and getting to know the community. We realised when we arrived that 'getting to know the community' was a bit vague, and we weren't really sure what we were going to do with ourselves for the week. In the downpours of rain, I was beginning to resign myself to reading my book for the week. However, things seem to have a way of working themselves out in Nicaragua. Particularly as it seems to take so long to do anything by my usual standards (e.g. 1 hour waiting while the chains are put on the bus half way down the hill; 40 minutes walking to reach the one shop in the village; 20 minutes trying to work out how to get water out of the well to have a shower and 10 minutes psyching ourselves up to tip the freezing water over our heads whilst squatting in an outdoor cubicle in the rain). View from the kitchen to the rarely used outdoor oven with the pig, roosters and hens pottering around.

Days start and end early in the countryside to make the most of the daylight. Most people are up by 5.30am and in bed by 8.30pm. Nicarauguan breakfasts are savoury, typically consisting of rice and beans (gallo pinto), sometimes with a grisly piece of meat. Dona Lucia was fond of the frying pan and on our first morning prepared for us deep fried tortillas stuffed with cheese, accompanied by a fried egg. I couldn't cope with this for anymore mornings so I played the foreigner card. This was fine, I think Dona Lucia concluded that we were typically odd and on subsequent days we given a less hearty, but more digestable biscuit/stale bread and fresh mangoes with black coffee that was only bearable after about 3 teaspoons of sugar. Other meals were far more delicious, a highlight being a fritatta made from various vegetable leaves, herbs, egg and flour. Hopefully Simon will learn how to make it. The family's pig, with a wooden, crossed contraption around its head. I haven't spotted a use for this yet but there must surely be one.

We soon got stuck in to weeding the vegetable patch and learning about different plants and herbs; going to the local school and teaching the hokey cokey to 6 year olds in their haphazard PE lesson; attempting to teach a Spanish class (oh dear) and maths to troubled children who the teacher preferred to separate from the rest; going to a workshop run by a feminist organisation on self-esteem in which, much to my amusement, whilst worringly everyone else took him seriously, Simon proclaimed in a group exercise that his character defect was being 'dangerous' (peligroso) rather than his intended one: 'lazy' (perezoso); getting lost in the hills trying to find viewpoints; going to introduce ourselves to a heavily pregnant lady a few miles away who we had heard had an inspiring vegetable patch. All in all, it was a great week and I feel pretty envious of Simon going back there each week. Part of the family's beautiful, flower-filled garden.

Celebrations in Managua

Through a combination of intermittent internet connectivity and leaving our camera in Leon we have been slow to update the blog. We have, however, been very busy and have lots to write down. For the moment we're making use of some photos taken by a friend of ours (another Rachel- an American working in Nicaragua) to record our fun weekend in Managua, the capital of Nicaragua, to join in with the celebrations marking 30 years since the people's Sandinista revolution.Waving the Sandinista flag with Rachel.

We knew all about the celebrations- it was the question on many people's lips in the weeks leading up to the 19th of July- 'Are you going to the Plaza?'. On the 19th July 1979, the country was finally officially liberated from nearly 50 years of rule by one right-wing family. The years of Somoza rule saw nearly all the wealth and resources of Nicaragua end up in the hands of the family's private companies and channelled out through the USA. It was the end of a bloody revolution which had seen Somoza's airforce carpet bombing cities in the North, and brave Sandinista guerrilla fighters, supported by the poor farming families, pitted against the American trained National Guard; old rifles and home-made bombs against high-powered machine guns and rocket launchers. Unfortunately this was not the end of the suffering as throughout the 80's the US government, with money channelled from arms sold to Iran, and private backers, funded the Contra rebels in an attempt to destabilise the Sandinista government (destabilise meaning the rape, torture and large-scale massacre of thousands of innocent villagers). But the victory did lead to land reforms, freedom of speech, health, education and roads for rural communities and eventually to a peaceful democracy.

We arrived in Managua on Saturday with our English friend Nick and Rachel and stayed with Belkis, a Nicaraguan journalist friend of Nick's. We set out in the evening to check out the set-up in and around the main square before all the hoards arrived on Sunday. Between bars, we had a wander round the plaza late on Saturday night when there were aleady plenty of stalls set up selling tacos, barbequed meat, t-shirts, hats and flags. We were joined by more friends of Nick, a Nicaraguan family, and one of them, Pedro, gave us an animated and fascinating tour of the revolutionary sights, including the tomb of Carlos Fonseca, the founder of the FSLN, the Sandinista party.

The next day we joined hundreds of thousands of people in the main square in melting heat to listen to Daniel Ortega, the president, give his annual speech. It was a rousing affair, speaking out against the American intelligence agencies, their participation in the Honduran coup and their setting up military bases in Colombia. He made the distinction between US foreign policy and the US people, which was fortunate for us, as we look like Americans and he even offered some support for Obama. It was a great family atmosphere and most people were there for the day out and the celebrations rather than pinning on every word of his speech. After it was over, the band started up and the sound of thousands of noisy bangers filled the sky. We joined in, dancing around and were received warmly by the fellow partygoers. We were offered shots of a strong spirit, aguardiente, by a group of lads, and were given a Sandinista flag to wave, by another group, who wanted their photos taken with us. As the crowd dispersed, we made our way back to Belkis' mum's house, which had been turned into a bar for the weekend. We met more entertaining and increasingly drunk Sandinista revellers there and our Rachel was given a t-shirt by Rigoberto, who ended up too drunk to speak, while the American Rachel received a Nicaraguan flag. We headed to a crowded, outdoor basketball court surrounded by bars and stalls where a local Sandinista youth group had set up a stage and organised a musical line-up of impressive quality.

With American Rachel, Nick and Belkis waiting for a band to start.
We had a brilliant night listening to some really good, politically charged music, waving our flag and dancing with lots of locals. It was an inspiring and fun day, sharing in the recent history of the country, getting an insight into the importance of politics for the people, and being welcomed so warmly into a giant, friendly and fun-loving community.

A shop sign in Leon

After a couple of beers, we had to look at this sign several times before realising that it was simply a mouse and mouse lead.

Granada

Lots of horse and carriage ride options for tourists. We also spotted a couple used as hearses during our time here, with black lace on the horse, a black carriage and the family and friends walking behind to the church.

Things are taking a while to come together here in Nicaragua. With a few different options in the air and nothing happening fast, we decided to leave Leon for a few days and head for the tourist hotspot and beautifully restored colonial city of Granada. The cathedral on the main square

A lovely hotel. We didn't stay here.

It certainly has some magnificent buildings and good, international restaurants but it was all a bit touristy and expensive for us. However, should any of our friends and family come to visit, it is lovely and relaxing and a good starting point for volcano treks and island boat tours. It would be a good place to visit.

Granada lies next to the enormous Lake Cocibolca, otherwise known as Lake Nicaragua. Close to Granada are hundreds of small islands, reachable by boat tours or hiring sea kayaks, both of which turned out to be surprisingly pricey. We're suddenly getting even stingier now we're setting our sights on living in Nicaragua for a while, rather than just travelling through. Instead, we opted for hiring fairly rickety, but bargainous, bikes for the afternoon, and set off by ourselves to explore along the lake. This was our definite highlight. We had a great time bumping along stony, dusty tracks past banana plants and squished mangoes, under the shade of mango trees and past tiny, rural settlements. We eventually arrived at a deserted bathing spot which had a shut up restaurant and nobody around except for a tortoise ambling across the path and lots of sand flies. We quickly got into the water to avoid being bitten and yearning for refreshment, but we disappointed to find it was the temperature of a bath. As we swam out past hundreds of tiny, jumping fish we found the odd cool spot. The setting was truly beautiful, we spotted a variety of water birds flying amongst the rocks and lush greenery with the waters of the lake stretching for miles beyond. We took an alternative route back into town, which led us up a fairly steep hill. We stopped for a drink at a local place and were invited to sit in wooden rocking chairs outside their shop/house and chat to the family as we quenced our thirsts with a couple of ice cold colas before heading down at dusk back into Granada.

The Big Assed Ant-Dog and the Gecko

A few entries ago we attempted to translate 'Perro Zampopo', the name of a band we saw in Leon last week. We concluded that it was something along the lines of Big Assed Dog. Flicking through a guide book yesterday, we saw that it actually means 'Gecko', of which there are many small ones here, scuttling around eating big red ants. Maybe the ants they eat have big asses and this is where it came from. The only conclusion from all this is that nobody should take Spanish lessons from us.

The Museum of the Revolution

'Free Fatherland or Death!' Sandinista heroes, Carlos Fonseca (left), who was a Sandinista leader murdered in 1974, and Augusto Cesar Sandino, one of the first to oppose US imperialism in the 1930s and form a guerilla force, the Sandinista movement takes his name. The flag are of Nicaragua (left) and the Sandinistas (right).
Never have we been in a building which looks less like a museum, but had somebody explain its significance to us so ardently. It is in a once grand, but now decidedly tatty and crumbling building overlooking the main square in Leon. It was built in the 19th century as the Palace of Communications and went on to house the rightwing National Guard, the police of the Somoza dictatorships (set up by the CIA), until it was overthrown in 1979 by the Sandinista Revolution. Today it serves as a Sandinista hangout and 'museum', and so it has a combination of men sitting around watching a boxing match on tv, passionate guided tours and the most appallingly displayed collection of tatty artefacts in a museum ever.Primary school staff across the country would be aghast at the sheer ineptitude shown in the quality of this display. However, what lacked in presentation was made up for in the personal testimony and passion of Juan, our Sandinista guide who had fought in Leon during the revolution, aged 14. He spent two hours talking non-stop in this room before taking us up to the roof for panoramic views across the city. He invited us to join them for a Sandinista march two days later, but unfortunately, we were out of town. On the roof with Juan and his pointing stick which he waved with animation at faded newspaper articles throughout his monologue.

The minimalist pile of assorted artefacts included weapons used during the revolution - copies of homemade bombs, an old helmet, some street slabs used as barricades and these two weapons below.

It was a little odd to be peering through the sights of this US-manufactured rocket launcher into the sleepy main square outside. Juan told us that they captured this one from the National Guard and the 'yankies' or 'gringos'.

This was the more basic rocket launcher, with a distinctly homemade feel, widely used by the Sandinistas.

The Prison, Legend and Myth Experience

This building has bizarrely combined two very different themes. Built in 1921, for nearly 60 years it operated as a prison and torture centre, as the drawings on the walls depict. However, a local lady decided to commit the later years of her life to making stuffed mannequins representing mythical characters from traditional Nicaraguan folklore. It is an odd experience to have explained to you the relevance of a stuffed dead calf pulling a carriage of death (it means death is coming your way if they leave a candle which then turns into a bone outside your house) in what was until fairly recently a torture chamber.

The lady with the one enormous boob sticking out of her top in the photo below is from a famous story about a lady with enormous boobs and an ugly face. She was teased incessantly for her ugliness and looking like a man until she went mad and stalked the streets trying to catch the eyes of men. If they caught her eye, she whipped out her boob and put them on the teet. Que horror!

A dip at Las Peñitas

Around an hour bumping along on a local bus from Leon and you're at the seaside in a place called Las Penitas, a long stretch of dark, volcanic sand with a few houses and places to stay behind it. We were very happy to find out that there is a lovely beach close to Leon and it was a great place to spend a Sunday afternoon. The Pacific is pretty rough here and crashes abruptly on to the steeply shelving beach.

Preparing to pose on the rock for a photo when an enormous wave nearly swept Simon away.

You wouldn't want to go out of your depth but just round the corner and protected by a thin stretch of land are some much calmer waters where lots of kids splash about in safety and vendors sell tasty snacks and icy treats on the beach.

Perro Zampopo

For our first gig in Nicaragua we went to see Perro Zampopo in Leon. We have been trying to translate this. Perro is easy, it means dog. Zampopo is a little trickier. A google search reveals that it is a word used in Nicaragua for a kind of ant commonly eaten in Mexico and Colombia and referred to in the latter as a big-assed ant. Therefore, we have deduced that maybe this band want to be called 'Big-assed Dog'.

The band played a two-hour set, which was a bit dull for an hour, but then got going and we really quite enjoyed it by the end, as the music became less soft rock and more Manu Chao. They were talented lads, with a bassist, two guitarists, a violinist, a drummer and a lead singer (son of a famous Nicaraguan revolution singer).

The band of one of the most popular groups in the country at the moment, with an avid set of fans. Towards the end of the show, there was a good number of over-excitable girls, screaming out the lyrics to their most popular songs. We've embedded a YouTube video of one of the band's bigger shows in case anyone wants to get a feel for a small slice of the Nicaraguan music scene.

We met up with Nick, a friend of Rachel's through work, plus another Rachel, an American working in Leon for a year and her visiting brother and father. It was a bit of a strange setting to watch the band as we were all seated at tables in a large, fashionable bar. It was all a bit much for Rachel's dad, who decided the best bet was to catch up on a bit of sleep.

León

One of Leon's main streets, through the central plaza

León is the hottest city in Nicaragua, which is one of the hottest countries in Latin America. It’s ‘winter’ at the moment, with temperatures in the high 30s whenever the sun appears. Our photos really do fail to capture the heat, when the sun is out we seek out the shaded side of the street and even under a cloudy sky it is sweaty. One of many colonial churches in the centre of Leon.

We came here from Esteli to get a feel for the place, knowing that we would be spending the next six months or so either here in Leon, or back in Esteli, or a combination of the two. Planning our cultural assault on the city

We had heard that there was quite a buzz about Leon as it's a student city and that it draws a number of tourists with its attractive colonial architecture. Another colonial church

A restored and very smart colonial building

For the first day or two, we found it hard to appreciate the city beyond the stifling heat. Leon is down out of the mountains at sea level, around 20 miles from the Pacific, and until the afternoon rains set in or the sun goes down, it can be difficult to muster the energy to do anything but eat mango and lie next to a fan. Most people get about on foot, or several people on one bike, or in cars, trucks, taxis or buses, but you do see the odd horse and cart.

We were beginning to wonder whether it was wise to have left the breeze of Esteli behind, but after meeting up with people, a couple of good nights out, and an exploration of the city, we have started to see why people like it so much here. A very impressive art gallery in town where we weren't supposed to take photos.

Out of everywhere we have been in Latin America, this city seems to be able to achieve a seamless mix of tourists, international workers and locals, rich and poor. Locals drink in the bars and restaurants of traveller hostels, we can wander through the most chaotic of markets without being either pointed at or ignored and if we sit on a bench in the main square, we will surely have somebody talking to us within a few minutes, and not necessarily to sell us anything.

Resting in the Poets' Park. It was nearly sundown and the stone next to Ruben Dario's bust was uncomfortably warm after a day of baking sun.

Outside the central cathdral, which is the largest in Central America (it goes a long way back). Someone wondered if the plans for a cathedral in Lima and one in Nicaragua got mixed up in the Italian architect's office. A beautiful evening wedding inside the central cathedral.