Granada

The cab pulled into Granada late Friday afternoon, just as the sun was sinking over the jagged horizon of the volcanoes to the west.  Bouncing around the cobblestone streets in a constant fight for right-of-way with horse-drawn trailers, tourists and the occasional Toyota Hilux, we eventually found Hotel Con Corizon.   After checking in,  I left my bags in my room and headed out to explore the 500 year old colonial city.

The central square felt relatively subdued for a Friday night,  save for a few groups of fellow gringos and a handful of street vendors.  Semana Santa,  a week-long holiday celebrating Nicaraguan's resilience, assaults of Tona's (the local beer) and cheap rum, the week before had apparently taken the wind out of their sails.  The streets were vacant and the restaurants empty,  rather fitting for my last night in Nicaragua I mused.

Emptying my pockets and hunting around in my camera bag, I collected the last of my Nicaraguan Cordobas in my left hand.  "That's a nice dinner," I mumbled to myself as I pulled another wrinkled 200 note from my coin pocket.   365 Cords.  That works out to be about 15 bucks, I estimated.  With no sense of urgency,  I wandered the streets looking for a dinner spot.

 My attention was heightened by the knowledge that at 7:15 the next morning,  I would be on a plane back to the states. 

Hand painted signs.

These buildings were built long before electronics.

Double parked.

Scooter.

For whom the bell tolls.

Note the string bike lock.

Garden.

2012,  could be 1972.

After sticking my head inside a handful of cafes,  I eventually I settled on small restaurant with a garden in the middle.  I ate by myself and listened to the conversations of the other travelers.  A group of middle-aged women discussed their trip to a nearby organic coffee plantation. "Tourist trap," I grumbled.  Two recent high school graduates assured each other of the importance of a gap year.  Probably not a bad thing.  My steak came quickly, and I tipped with the remainder of my Cordoba coins.

Even though my flight didn't leave until the next morning,  my mind was already elsewhere, ready for the next leg of my journey.

Hera are some more links.

Granada (Facebook),

Twitter.

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