Nicaragua, Leon, 9 February 2016

I was up earlier than Daisy again this morning and brought Ogblog up to date.  While doing so I realised that my hat was missing and concluded that I must have left it in Cafe Taquezal.  I’m making a habit of abandoning that battered old hat temporarily these days – must be a sign but I was hoping to get it back for a while longer – it makes a good talking point on this holiday.

I try some cornflakes this morning rather than the yoghurt, but the milk has a similar unreal taste to the yoghurt – perhaps they have milk fortification regulations here that make all dairy products taste that way. Toast and bacon was an improvement on the pastry things. Janie stuck with that from the previous day. The orange juice is very good here, btw.

We have a free day in Leon today and fancy only a light bit of touring. We go across to the next block to the Ortiz-Guardian Foundation gallery/museaum. Despite the proximity of this visit and my enviable track record as a guide, Daisy still stops on the way to ask directions from a bemused fellow who speaks no English and doesn’t seem to know where museums are in any language.

We get to see a Joan Miro exhibition and also the Ortiz-Guardian’s fine collection of Praxis Movement and other modern Latin American artists’ works. There was also some seriously old stuff of the religious iconography kind, which we walked through swiftly. Daisy noticed that the Ortiz family seems to have styled the garden of the convent hotel on the style of their old house complex, which this museum presumably is.

Next stop; again just a block or so away, the Ruben Dario Museum.  Daisy wants to photograph me reading my Ruben Dario book in the inner courtyard, which takes a while to stage manage.

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At one point Daisy complains that the signs are all in Spanish so she dosn’t understand, at which point I try to help by pointing out pictures of his two wives and explaining the story of his marriages.  “Are you making this up?”, asks Daisy, perhaps unable to imagine that I might have actually taken in the stuff I read about Dario’s life in that book. I shouldn’t have dignified that remark with a reply, but I did.

Next we continue the search for CDs, by stopping at a musical instrument shop where a very helpful fellow takes great pains to show on a map and via Google traslate where a good possible source is located; near the Cathedral, where we are heading anyway.

Next stop, El Sesteo, where we take some refreshment (Coke Zero in my case, Carrot and Orange juice in Daisy”s case) and conclude that this place really does offer the homely local dishes we want to try, so we shall indeed return here tonight.

Then on to our hot lead for CDs, where we have certainly scored to some extent, not least because the CDs are so cheap.  I buy four and we can see if Guillermo can help add to my collection tomorrow; I don’t think the Caribbean side’s musical tradition is much represented on the four I have bought. But we shall find out what Elvis Crespo sounds like, which is important.

Then round to Cafe Taquezal, where an inquisitive gesticulation towards my head soon leads to recognition and the production of my battered old sombrero. Sweet success.

We could have come straight home, but I suggested a quick look at an artesenal shop we passed near the Ruben Dario Museum which might have a suitable little ornament for Mandy White’s sand pit (long story). This proves to be a relatively expensive suggestion on my part, as Daisy spots some rather beautiful and well-made occasonal dishes, which should make nice gifts.

Then back to the hotel, for some beer and nuts. I earn my right to those after working out how to use the lightening adapter thingie to import our photos onto Daisy’s iPad, which is a jolly good way of looking at the pictures on a decent-sized screen, although perhaps not an ideal method for uploading pictures to Ogblog and making sure they look the right way around on all devices –  we’ll live and learn.

Then we both feel sleepy so decide to take a siesta – Daisy clearly in more need than me as she has slept on long enough to enable me to write up the day so far and more besides.

Indeed, Daisy turns out to be so sleepy that I need to wake her up in order to have any chance of getting some dinner. She claims she is now refreshed and busily gets ready to go out for dinner. “Don’t let me forget my hat”, I say as we set off. “Do you really need that thing this evening?” asks Daisy.  She has a point, unlike the hat which has a hole where the point should be.

So it is off to El Sesteo, where we try three massive dishes of local fare – nacatamales (a sort-of Nicaraguan pork and chicken cholent), a variation on vigoron (pork with yucca) and a mixed plate of shredded pork, rice, plantain etc. which I think is designed to give tourists a low-risk try of several tasty local things.  It was all very enjoyable and of course far too much food.

A little boy hangs around, almost discreetly, outside the restaurant near our table. Daisy wonders whether we should give him some of the food.  I wonder whether the restaurant would approve of that.  Daisy asks a waitress, so after getting the nod she makes up a little food parcel for the kid before we send our plates back. The kid thanks her politely and skulks away to eat alone in a cat-like fashion.

Two glasses of wine, water, more food than we could possibly eat for $25, including a healthy tip which seems to please the staff. Great to try, but we won’t be rushing to try those local dishes again.

We get home, Daisy more or less immediately puts herself to bed despite her long afternoon sleep, but before dropping off says, “where’s your hat?”  I suggest that she forgot to remind me; Daisy suggests that my stupid hat is my own stupid responsibility. She has a point again.

I offer to return to the restaurant alone, but Daisy insists that she is not letting me out of her sight. I wonder whether she is worried about me falling foul of the pretty Nicaraguan university student girls, but she says she thinks the greater risk is me falling badly in one of the copious potholes in the Leon pavements.

Anyway, it is but a short walk and of course, yet again, my hat is still there.

Nicaragua, Leon, 8 February 2016

Rose early (still a bit in lag mode), I wrote up Ogblog some more and fidded around charging up devices etc. We took an early breakfast. Daisy had bacon and eggs. I tried pastry things that are a little difficult to describe. Think infeasibly thick, heavy pastry, possibly the early efforts of a child and you are imagining along the right lines.

I read some Ruben Dario and also had a short go with Benjy (the bariton ukulele) as we had so much time before  guide was due to arrive; pretty pleased with the results of putting pdfs onto the Kindle Fire for the ukulele purpose.

Our guide was named Danny Morales; very young and eager. He explained our itinerary. We were already aware that some of the smaller sights would be closed on a Monday, but he at least oriented us so we can go to those on our own tomorrow.

We started in Parque Central, looking at the various buildings, the Gigantona (gigantic facsimile of a Spanish girl) and especially the Cathedral of Leon, aka the Basilica de la Asuncion.

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This is an enormous church, the largest in Central America. There was a mass in progress as we went in; the use of guitar as the accompaniment to the singing gave the service an immediate Latin feel. We saw all the bits you are supposed to see, such as the Black Jesus and the tomb of Ruben Dario, then climbed up to the roof and explored that strange construction barefoot, taking in the vistas and taking many photographs.

After the Cathedral, a few short steps to the market, primarily a food market, which was wonderfully photogenic and about as friendly as you’ll find anywhere. We treated ourselves to some king coconut water at the end of that bit; Danny tellingly lugged the coconuts around with him for the rest of the day.

We then looked at some murals depicting the Nicaraguan struggle. After finding and buying a clutch of just the right type of bandannas in the Parque Central, we then visited the rather depressing Museo de la Revolucion, where we met some of the FSLN vets.

By this stage Daisy was getting quite hot and bothered with it all, but we persuaded her to progress to our next stop; Al Carbon restaurant, where the definition of a light lunch turned out to be a huge platter of meats served with some beans, taters and fried plantain thingies.

Danny then went off to get what we thought was a driver but in fact was a car under his charge for the rest of the day.

Our next stop was an art school in the Sutiava district, where we got to try our hands at “carpet making”; a local art form using dyed sawdust to make artworks on the ground ahead of a procession which will then destroy the works. Traditionally these pictures are religious and fairly classic-looking in nature, but Daisy and I went uber-modern for our effort. I tried to get away with it by naming the piece “madonna and child”; indeed if you look carefully at pictures of our seemingly abstract effort, you can distinctly see all the religious faces, bodies and symbols required for that name to be utterly appropriate. Or perhaps you can see an image of me kissing Daisy at the bottom of the work. We eagerly await notification that our masterpiece has won a prize.

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One of the art school boys then offered me the chance to play his guitar, which was quite a stretch from the baritone ukulele, but I managed to bash out all three chords of First Cut Is The Deepest and then La Bamba, the latter enabling the youngsters to join in. Funny that.

We were supposed to then see the house where they make the Gigantona, but when we got there we discovered that the man of the house is sick and it was all closed up. Instead, Danny took us to Radio Shack as I was keen to acquire some adapters for these US sockets (success) and also in search of some good music CDs (failure).

Back to the hotel for a while; Daisy was so tired she wanted to skip the evening, but I suggested she fight the lag by coming out again. We had hoped for some Gigantona/street parade action around central parque but it was all very quiet, as were the bars which we were told tend to have live music; but not on a Monday evening.

Daisy had a beer in Cafe Taquezal, before we hit on the idea of having a room service sandwich with our remaining wine back at the hotel. There is a lovely nook overlooking the courtyard garden containing modern portraits of  famous people, so we enjoyed a light supper and the rest of that good bottle of wine in the company of Yasser Arafat, Princess Diana, Charlie Chapin, Pele, Sandino and many others. Daisy had brought a few little Valentines chocolates and decided (I think wisely) that they were unlikely to survive much more travel in the heat, so we did the sensible thing with those too. A very lovely evening in the end.

Nicaragua, Towards and In Leon, 7 February concluded

Daisy took a photograph or two of that part of the malecon, known as Puerto Savador Allende, which we decided reminded us a little of Canvey Island.

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Then we drove on, initially to Old Leon, which is some distance from the modern town of Leon.  Old Leon is a UNESCO Heritage site, but frankly a rather sad specimin for one of those.  The site has huge historical importance, as the early colonial twin cities of Granada and Leon were pre-eminent.  But all that has been excavated so far is the shell of some 70 buildings. Even the grandest, the ruins of the old cathedral (photographed) needs a lot of imagination and artists impressions to give you an idea of what the renaissance-period city might have looked like. Add to that the intense heat and we politely chose to move on quite quickly.

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So to Leon itself, which we shall tour tomorrow and explore ourselves the nextday.  Guillermo helped us to orient the town by driving us around (it seems pretty small and walkable in the main) before dropping us at El Convento.  We have indeed been allocated a beatiful garden-view room which turns out to be lovely and quiet.

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We’re both quite tired at this juncture, so we merely sort ourselves out, arrange to have dinner at the hotel and go down for that dinner ridiculously early by our standards (just after 6:00) although our brains probably still think it is midnight.

It’s hard to describe the meal politely.  Such a beautiful location, but the lighting is bright, the air-conditioning is set to “fridge” and the music is a sort of synthesiser-thumping-bollocks-remix of 1980’s western pop songs.  The food is a selection of good ingredients thoroughly overcooked and unsubtly seasoned.  We both had a starter of prawns in basil, which Daisy followed with pork medallions in gooseberry jelly and I followed with steak and porcini.

The wine was ludicrously cheap and pretty good – we had an apperitif glass of house white each and a bottle of Trio red, most of which we’ve saved for a rainy day.  Except there almost certainly won’t be one of those,so we might just drink it during the remainder of our stay, when we’ll be dining in more traditional type places, I imagine. The whole meal came to less than $80 dollars including a hefty service charge for the comedy waiters who spoke no English and seemed entirely unaccustomed to serving wine. Janie said it reminded her of Fawlty Towers, except without the rude proprietor.

We went to bed about 8:45 so it is no surprise that we both woke up early too. We need to work on this jet lag thing.