Artesanias

Saturday, Jan. 26, 2013—Granada to Masaya

I had trouble sleeping last night.  My skin was itching.  I don’t know if it is due to the soap at the hotel, the detergent used on the sheets, or what.  Anyway, I awoke around 4:30 and could not go back to sleep.  I got on the computer and wrote a long-delayed e-mail.  At 5:30, I could go back to sleep and slept until 7:30.

The hotel in Granada is reminiscent of the hotels of the late 1800s/early 1900s where people went and stayed for extended periods of time.  The first large courtyard is just seating area around a garden where people can socialize with each other, and they do.  It’s also where we have breakfast in the mornings.  The second courtyard is the one surrounded by the rooms.  It has the pool and a couple of small seating areas on the grass.  It’s mostly a quiet place, since the pool cannot be used in the evenings and because the other courtyard is available for drinks, conversation, etc.  I could see a group of people staying here for weeks, meeting in the first courtyard each day to visit and maybe to have a late-afternoon drink, and retiring to their rooms in the evening after having gone out to a restaurant for dinner.  (The hotel does not serve food other than for breakfast, but it has a bar.)

I walked to the bus station for Masaya and saw a bus pulling out as I was half a block away.  It wasn’t a problem, though.  I got on the next bus, and it left 20 minutes later.  Within 45 minutes after that, we arrived in Masaya. 

Our arrival made me think of India.  There was chaos at the bus station which was unpaved and had some puddles of standing water.  Right next to it is the main market of the city, and it was overrun with people just like India.  Because it is where the poor people shop, the people were often dirty and grubby as in India. 

I had picked out a hotel that sounded okay in its reviews.  On the way to it, I visited with a young man named Javier who was giving me directions.  He was very nice, and it was obvious that he was enjoying our visit.  He offered to show me another hotel, but this is sometimes a trick where people befriend you just to try to make money directing you to a hotel that gives them a kickback.  I falsely told him I already had a reservation, and he never said another word (which indicated to me that he was not trying to take advantage of me).  He told me where to turn to go to the La Curacao store which is the landmark used to note how to find the hotel, and he went another direction.  (In Nicaragua, directions are never simple.  They are always in reference to a major landmark.  For my hotel, the directions were “1/2 block north of the La Curacao store,” so I had to first get directions to that store!)

Well the hotel was a dud.  It was cheap, and it was dark and dreary.  Next door was a place that looked nice, but they had no openings.  Another place was also dark and dreary.  My third place had a room for $15 (maybe a bit overpriced) that had windows with light, white sheets, TV, fan, private bath, etc., so I took it.  It’s the Hotel California.

That was at 10:30.  Between then and now (16:30), I have explored.  I went to the Parque Centraland watched a show put on by a company selling bedding; it involved a band with 4 front female dancers in cheerleader-type costumes.  I walked far to the west of town to the malacon, the pedestrian walkway along the lakefront with a view of the hills and the Masaya Volcano (which was featured on a PBS special earlier this week).  I went to the Mercado des Artesanias which is much like the Mexican Market in San Antonio—a nice building from the 1800s which has clean, well organized stalls selling all kinds of Nicaraguan crafts.  (Masaya is known as the place to buy handicrafts in this country.)  There were hammocks, purses, wooden objects, dresses, shirts, belts, boots, paintings, etc.  I enjoyed looking, but I never can separate the wheat from the chaff when looking at items in a market.  From there, I continued back to the general market by the bus station which is unbelievably large with huge sections for each kind of product—shoes, hardware, meat, etc.

I returned to the Parque Central and read for about 30-45 minutes.  Then I walked northward out of town and climbed a hill (probably an extinct volcano) to Coyotepe, an old fortress.  It was an exhausting and hot climb, but the view of the city was great from up there.  Then on the way back, I stopped at a supermarket and bought some peanuts and bananas to have in my room.

The hotel does not have wifi, but it pays for time at the cyber café next door.  The owner gave me coupons for 2 hours of use.  I’m typing this on my computer, then I will go there to post it. 

I’m not sure what I will do about dinner.  My stomach has no interest in the typical Central American fare of beans and rice with pickled cabbage salad and either grilled pork or chicken.  I will return to the Parque Central in the evening (now it is 17:00) and see if anything there appeals to me.  If not, I will eat the peanuts and bananas I bought.