In, around and between Leon to Grenada: part 1

Sometimes I look back on the last couple of days and think "wow, how did I fit all that in?" and sometimes I look back on the past week and struggle to pick out what I've done at all. This week is like that. Not in the sense that I've been sitting around doing nothing (well, not quite every day) but in the sense that I've been so relaxed the time has flown by.

I liked Leon a lot. When I first arrived in Mexico in January, I read a book of factual short stories written by novelists about travelling (´Better than Fiction´, published by Lonely Planet: December 2012). One that stuck in my head was about the relationship between an American writer and a Nicaraguan academic. Both married with their own families, they met at Princeton University as Postgraduate residents. While experiencing a very close relationship they never really become romantically involved which makes the story all the more raw in a way which only non-fiction can, I think. But anyway: years later, writer woman visits Nicaraguan man in his home country, having heard discriptions of Leon and Grenada and all the corruption of Somoza and family. So I too after having read of the architecture, the history and the poetry, found myself standing in the central square with cathedral, momuments and politically charged murals all around me. The bizarre feeling of having seen the place before even though I'd never really seen images- only imagined the place through reading the stories. I got a bit of a kick from sitting in the same cafe (or site replaced by cafe- I'm not sure) as Rigoberto Lopez Perez had sat writing and plotting to assassinate Somoza. I bloody love that stuff.

I spent a good evening and morning wandering round the city, visiting the 'Heroes and Martyrs Museum' which was both disturbing and hilarious as all good Central American museums seem to be. The exhibition was set in the old prison which was interesting , but was comprised of a vast collection of hand made manequins and dolls of people who either died in horrific ways for good causes or were the subject of legends involving possessed demons and/or dangerous witch-like women (purely on the grounds that men would hear said women call and mysteriously end up somewhere they didn't mean to be- fantastic excuse. Definitly dark magic. Definitly). I was also lucky enough to be given a tour by a guide who had eyes pointing in different directions and had obviously learnt a script in english with neither he nor I really understood. We were humouring each other. Once I tried to ask a question but it wasn't in his script so he didn't answer. Instead he said that I had the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen and would I like to come to dinner with him in return for scabies and a British visa (he didn't actually voice the last part). I politely declined, even though I'm still not totally sure he was saying it to me rather than someone 100 yards to my right.

In Leon I met a lovely pair of British boys who were able to tolerate me too. We began by consumating this friendship with sushi (not very comida typico, I know) beer and a terrible Nicaraguan club which I don't really remember. With the help of breakfasts fit for kings and a very organised American girl, we fought past the hangovers and set off to the beach for the night.

The Surfing Turtle Lodge is located on the tiny Isle de Brasiles off the Pacific side of Nicaragua:

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My unexpected win at volcano boarding qualified me for a free night´s stay which was rather nice. It took a truck ride, a tiny fishing boat and a short trek to get the the lodge which was pretty much the only thing on the island other than turtles. I spent the day getting horribly sunburnt and watching the boys fail to surf. I also went for a "light swim" a couple of times, which turned into exhausting battles against thousands of tons of ocean. Floating and chatting to a friend, I turned around to see the lodge and beach as a speck on the horizon, having been carried out quite far by the current... but then I turned to my right and saw a dolphin jumping out the water! I was super excited and no longer worried about potentially drowning, because it would probably be just like in films where dolphins come to carry people back to the shore. Chris, my swimming companion, ruined the moment by telling me that it probably meant sharks were nearby and I powered back towards shore like a mermaid possessed. That night we played cards, drank too much rum and sat by a beach bonfire. I saw shooting stars and fell into bed too close towards the time at which I woke up again.