Reflections on the Road: Nicaragua in Black and White (Part Two -- Masaya)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is part two of a four-part series looking at different towns in Nicaragua.  To begin at part one -- Granada -- click HERE.

 

It takes about an hour and a half to travel by bus from Granada (Nicaragua's most famous colonial town) to Managua (Nicaragua's capital).  This is not a long time to sit on a bus, but if one wanted to break the trip in half here's how you'd do it:  tell the driver you want off in Masaya.

 

Best known for its handicraft industry, Masaya is home to about 100,000 people.  It is neither as touristy as Granada nor as intimidating as Managua.  Since handicrafts tend to bore me to tears, the following photographs will focus on two other things the town has: people and volcanoes.

 

While walking in the district of Monimbo, I was delighted to learn that James Dean was alive and well.

 

And these two brothers, sitting about two blocks up from James Dean, were delighted (as was I) to have their picture taken.  The brother in the striped-shirt had introduced himself to me in English as I was walking past.

 

Two blocks back in the direction of James Dean, these two teens seemed less than delighted to have their picture taken, despite my attempt to set them at ease.  Before I left, however, the guy slipped me his email address after I explained that I'd be happy to send them a copy if either of them had email.

 

 

We are now about nine blocks away from James Dean and have stumbled upon a bundle of testosterone and smiles.  The dogs appear to have never witnessed a group photo before, and the woman in the background seems to have already witnessed so much in life that the group photo wasn't worth turning her head.  (This is one of my favorite photos from Masaya.)

 

While taking the previous photo, this father emerged from his home with a child and suggested that they might be photo-worthy as well.  They were!

 

It was a two-mile walk back to my hotel from Monimbo.  On the way I stopped here to watch several games of "King (or Queen) of the Fountain."

The next day I went to hell.  This is a crater in Vulcan Masaya National Park, just outside the town. If I remember correctly, it's been spewing sulfur for centuries now, and one's vision does not even come close to penetrating to the bottom. The railing is meant to keep cars and people from falling to their deaths.  The parking area is called Plaza de Oviedo, named after a 16th-century monk who is said to have crawled down into the crater and emerged alive.

 

Another view of the crater and parking area

 

Hikers explore an adjacent -- and dormant -- crater rim (the one they're walking on, not the one to the left).

 

When I said earlier that I went to hell, I wasn't being entirely flippant.  Some 16th-century Spanish men thought this was an opening to Hell itself, and the cross is said to have been where a 16th-century monk (not the one the Plaza is named after) first placed a cross in an effort to drive out the demons who lived here.

 

By the time I returned to Masaya from the volcano at mid-afternoon, I felt like I had experienced a bit of hell.  The day was scorching hot, and in order to get an early start I had left for the volcano without breakfast (or even a shower).  After hours of walking around the national park, my shirt was encrusted in salt and my body keenly felt its lack of nutrients.  In a near delirium I returned to Masaya and, as a stop-gap measure, drank Gatorade.  This would keep me going without food for another couple hours so that I could continue to use my limited time to take more pictures, including the one above.

 

And forty minutes later this one.

 

And then this one.

 

Shortly after taking the picture above I was offered three giggly invitations to marry, all of which I refused by saying, "I'm old enough to be your father."  I hated the truth of that.  As I walked away from the group, I tried to recall how it was that I got so darn old  -- so old that I could no longer easily hike for hours without breakfast, so old that rather than reciprocate flirtatiousness with high school girls I had to remind them -- and myself, I suppose -- that I was about their father's age.  (And whether this is a sign of delirium or a bad sense of humor, I don't pretend to know.  But shortly after leaving these students I decided to call my afternoon unhappiness with feeling so old my "Masaya Complex.")

 

Before leaving, however, I did snap another photo or two.  With me having rejected their offers of marriage and dating, the girls began reapplying make-up even before I had left.  They were moving on.

 

And so was I: Managua was beckoning, and I needed to reach it by nightfall if possible.  I was looking forward to staying with American friends I hadn't seen in six years who were now living and working there.  And so I hopped aboard a bus, which was once a school bus somewhere in the United States.  Was funny how familiar elementary school became once I sat down in the seats -- seats by which I once marked the beginning and end of my school days.  Time, like travel, is an interesting thing.

 

From the Pan-American Highway I had one last view of the sulfur-spewing volcano.

Goodbye Masaya.

 

Click HERE to proceed to part three, which looks at Managua

 

		Joel Carillet, Gather Travel Correspondent
	Joel's column, "Reflections on the Road," is published every other Thursday to Gather Essentials: Travel. His articles, based on extensive travels in Asia and the Middle East, seek to shed light on humanity, both our own and that of others.   They aim not merely to entertain and inform but also to develop a sense of connection between the reader and the world. Joel's writing and photography have appeared in several publications, including the Kansas City Star, Christian Science Monitor, and The Best Travel Writing 2008.   He is also the author of 30 Reasons to Travel: Photographs and Reflections from Southeast Asia. If interested in learning more about Joel or purchasing photographic prints, visit http://joelcarillet.com. When not on the road, he happily calls Tennessee home. Keep up with Joel's article series by joining his network, or subscribing to his content.