Leon, The Road To Ruins- Corinto, Nicaragua
Officially known as the Basílica de la Asunción, León's cathedral is the largest in Central America.
December 27, 2013
Corinto, Nicaragua
This tour was arranged by our friend Joyce. As soon as we disembarked, we headed out of the port gates to meet our guide. One by one we got into the air conditioned van and our guide for the day, Julio introduced himself. He had an album with black and white pictures and as he talked, he would flipped through the album and show us the relating photograph.
"How many of you have heard about the Sandinista? How about Somoza?" he asked. He went on to talk about the brutality and the corruption of the Somoza regime who ruled Nicaragua for more than forty years. First was the Somoza father followed by his two sons succeeding one after the other. He continued to tell us how when he was just fourteen years old, he was captured by the Somoza government soldiers and held imprisoned and tortured.
"The first thing that happened when you are kept inside a coffin is to sneeze. You sneeze because you smelled everything. Inside the coffin, it was very tight and you can only move your head towards a very small hole to breathe. You do everything inside, you excrete and urinate in the same place. I do not know how long I stayed inside the coffin."
"There was a period from April to July the, Nicaraguan army fought and finally surrendered to Daniel Ortega's rebel forces. More than fifty thousand people died. There was no time to grieve, no time to bury the dead. People just burned them," he continued.
"In 1981, my brother went to the jungle to fight the soldiers but he disappeared. Nobody knows what happened to him. To this very day, my mother still waits for him," he lamented.
He went on to say that in 1990, they had their first female President, Violeta Chamorros, after her politician husband was assassinated. Julio agreed with me when I said that it was similar to what happened to President Corazon Aquino of the Philippines.
Julio's story made us feel sad and sorry for him. We can only imagined what went on throughout their two decades of civil war. How many more people died , no one knows for sure. We were in the colonial city of Leon shortly after an hour with just a brief stop to take photos of a volcano along the way.
Our first stop was a church where several kids and a man performed for us. You can tell that they are under a lot of hardships. Sadly, their clothings were ragged, their shoes were well worn out and their costumes were pathetic and just simply put together. Politely we watched their performances. Two boys kept beating their drums like mad while two boys wearing giant head masks kept dancing like dervish. A skinny guy masked like a clown representing the spirit that drove away the Spanish during colonial times recited some poems in Spanish. By this time, everybody had full bladders and wanted to go to a washroom.
"You cannot just go inside any restaurants or hotels here. They wouldn't let you use their washrooms even if we offer to pay," Julio reasoned.
So we have to abort the walking tour and headed to a very nice and clean convent to use the washrooms. Along the way, we saw gritty residential and shops and noticed bars in front of windows. In some cases, there were razor wires on top of the rather high walls. This is an indication of high crime rate.
Moving on, we started our walking tour towards the cathedral. We came across a small park with monuments of some highly respected Nicaraguan poets and journalists. There were litters around the park and a few food carts selling fast food. The statues looked pathetic and obviously, there was no money to enshrine this historical landmark. Across the cobble stone street, the shops were painted in bright colors which helped made enliven the area.
A few minutes later we arrived at the plaza where the Basilica Cathedral de la Asuncion was built in 1747. It was Christmas holidays so the place was bustling with locals and vendors. On the left side of the plaza was the city hall decorated with a giant paper mache in front.
A few vendors spotted our group and came rushing to sell terracotta whistles shaped as birds that were so crudely painted and decorated. We hurried past to get inside the church to avoid being hustled by vendors. The altar was big but I didn't really see anything special about it. A few local tourists inside were taking pictures while some knelt and prayed. It was hot and humid inside the cathedral.
"Let's go to the market, " Julio summoned us. We exited through the side entrance and we came upon rows and rows of stalls with cheap trinkets and souvenirs. There were many kinds of vendors. Some were old with spidery wrinkled hands, some were sad looking middle -aged with undernourished kids playing nearby. A few were selling grapes and apples while majority were selling what appeared to us were cheap junks. You can't move without passing stalls of similar items. Hunched in their small chairs, a few vendors were having lunch while others were taking their afternoon siesta. Despite poverty, a few were talking on cell phones having caught up with the digital age and instant communication.
The market was an urban oasis of various smells, noise and colors. Rows and rows of tropical fruit stand were before our very eyes. Gargantuan baskets were filled with hundreds of bananas and more than a foot - long size papayas were neatly arranged on tables. Fresh meat hung by the hooks, some lay on the stalls ready to be sliced. Different kinds of fresh fish were on display on small basins half filled with ice. This is where Julio surprised us by grabbing an iguana displayed with what looked like small groupers. The iguana's mouth and tiny feet were all tied up with strings.
"This is part of our national food," he declared while the poor iguana tried to move its tail. At the next stall where Julio was standing I found several iguanas of different sizes, all bound and tied. Besides the bunch, was a freshly skinned and stuffed iguana ready for the barbecue.
Down the lane we came across the barbecue stalls. The smell and the smoke wafted through the air. Alas, no iguana on the barbie! Perhaps it was still too early for lunch. Alongside the barbecue stalls were women with cauldrons that contained a combination of what looked like rice, meat, tendons and beans. It looked so mouth-watering and smelled good as they stirred their cauldrons as we passed by.
"Hmm, it might taste good, but I swear, my wife would kill me if I ever tried it, " declared Jim from Ottawa. So we moved on and chased Julio and our group who by now were again crossing the street back to the Cathedral. There was a garbage truck stuck in the middle of the street. Three policemen were trying to move the traffic. It was very hot and noisy. There was loud music playing in the loud speakers from the direction of the plaza.
Back at the cathedral, Julio asked how many would like to get up on the roof. Jim and Bert stayed behind. The stairways to the roof was very narrow and the steps were about 2 feet wide. It was a one way lane only and we had to wait until it was clear that nobody was coming down before we could begin to ascend.
I was ahead of our group. The stairways was steamy and dusty. When we reached the top we were told to take off our shoes. "Of all times, this was the first time I didn't wear socks," I worriedly said to myself.
Hot or not, there's no way I'm going to turn around after trudging through more than a hundred steps in the steamy and very narrow stairway. In front of me was the immense white roof of the cathedral. Not wanting to turn around, I removed my shoes, and slowly tried to feel the roof with one foot.
"Okay, it's was not very hot, " I said to myself putting my left foot next to my right. Instantly, I saw chalky white color stamped on the soles of my feet.
How does it feel to walk up an area with an immense white color?
It was an unmistakably blinding! Despite wearing dark sunglasses and hat, I was momentarily blinded and had to stop in my tracks. I have to shift my gaze downwards and instinctively shielded my eyes with one arm. Looking up in a situation like that was impossible to do at once.
There was another set of stairs to climb and the metal handrails almost burned my fingers. "Ouch," I reacted. No surprise for it was exactly 12:00 noon.
Upon ascending the last set of stairs, was an immense white roof with several mounds of big white hills. These were the domes of the cathedral. Here you have a sprawling 360 degree view of the city of Leon and you can see the volcanoes surrounding the city. The sky was bright blue and the clouds were pure white exactly just like the color painted on the roof. I felt excited and ran to one of the big white hill in the middle.
"Charlotte, stand there and let me take a picture of you," Tova shouted at me from a distance.
I giggled and with my signature raised arms, life is beautiful so live it pose, Tova took my picture.
"Your turn, come here please," I summoned her. Joyce meanwhile heard us and ran to join Tova. Shoulder to shoulder they stood on the mound, smiling towards my direction while I pressed the shutter of my camera.
"You must have missed the lecture. You are not supposed to stand there. They are not that strong," a man scolded them from somewhere. Upon hearing that, I turned around and walked away pretending that I do not know them.
Before climbing the roof of the cathedral, I was thinking "What the heck is his tour?" It was so beautiful up there despite the oppressing heat. For a moment I felt like an angel surrounded by clouds. I stood at one end of the cathedral's roof and it was like being in Santorini minus the Mediterranean sea. I was very happy I came up and didn't turn around. This was the definitely highlight of this tour.
Our last stop before returning to the ship was a stretch of long beach with calm waters. There were no hotels or cottages, only small make shifts stalls and palapa covered huts. The beach was littered with plastic garbage and bottles. "It was the garbage from the Christmas celebration," explained Julio ashamedly.
Julio's life story of torture and civil war was very moving and certainly touched our hearts. He deserved to live a new life. It took him fourteen years to reorient himself to the Nicaraguan society. He worked as a bellboy and a taxi driver while educating himself. We salute him for being a courageous and yet forgiving person.
After all its upheavals and political ups and downs, Nicaragua's tourism might take a while before it could catch up with the success of its neighboring Costa Rica. It took a lot of patience, determination, hard work and prayer for Julio to resurrect himself and be able to presently run his own tour company.
No matter how long it takes and no matter what it takes, someday it is going to happen for Nicaragua. Until then buena suerte, Nicaragua!
Comments
Love your photos from the roof!! From Dmarek, on Jan 2, 2014 at 09:32 p.m.
Wow! what a trip? truly enjoy reading your travel blog. From Julie Lee, on Jan 2, 2014 at 11:58 p.m.
Another intriguing tour, thank you, Charlotte. Kim From Kim L., on Jan 3, 2014 at 12:39 AM
I can't wait to see the "angel wings" you grew up on that roof Charlotte! Lol From Marcelle, on Jan 3, 2014 at 02:39 a.m.