So I have finally arrived in Nicaragua after a fairly epic journey which involved a bus journey, 3 flights, a taxi and a long overnight wait at Miami airport. Although as far as airports go, there are fare worse once to be stuck in!
My first stop is Granada, a old colonial style town. First impressions are good. It's compact, colourful and quiet...although everything is eerily quiet compared to India! The town itself is lovely to walk around and the Nica's are welcoming, amiable people.
I find a super cheap hostel to stay in, called the Bearded Monkey, where a dorm room is only $5...so no complaints there. It's the perfect place for me to relax and get over the jet lag, with hammocks arranged round a beautiful courtyard garden. Bliss.
My first day/night is pretty quiet...a wander around the 'city' and an impromptu game of trivia in a local cafe followed by a very early night.
The follwing day i'm still totally knackered, so deicde to have an easy day of exploring the town. There are plenty of old churches and catherdrals, cute little streets and shaded parks to relax in. So I park myself under a tree near the lake and settle down to do some reading and a bit of writing, and all seems to be going just tickety boo and dandy when I'm joined by a 'friendly' local. He chats away to me in Spanish, but when it seems quite apparent that my language skills aren't quite up to scratch, he takes out a pen and paper and scribbles a little drawing. Of a penis. And a stick man and woman bumping uglies. How nice. So naturally I'm just a tad horrified, and as I get up to leave, he can't quite meet my eye, because he's far too busy vigourously wanking. It's a hideous state of affairs altogether and I practically sprint to escape. Hola Granada!
I go back to the hostel to contemplate exactly what is wrong with people, and there I meet my dorm mate Leo. We chew the fat for a while, then head out to get some dinner (beers and hamburgers, the stuff dreams are made of!). For $1.50 each, it's a pretty good deal. Then, uncharacteristically, it's another early night for me. The jet lag is still looming over me!
So far, my very minimal grasp of the Spanish language hasn't caused too many major problems, though I'm absolutely sure it would be a whole lot easier if I was fluent. Which I'm not even close to. But in some ways, I guess I'm comfortable getting by on the basics and pleading 'yo no entiendo' when I need to. Sometimes i think it actually simplifies things a little. But we shall see how this works out over the course of my trip...
Tomorrow, I'll leave Granada for Isla de Ometepe, an almost fantasy island right in the middle of Lago de Nicaragua. With 2 huge volcanoes emerging out the water, and plenty of flora and fauna, it's sure to be idyllic.
Just what I need....
Wednesday, 22 February 2012
Tuesday, 7 February 2012
Calcutta...A bit like Dickensian London
We leave the Ashram, refreshed but oh-so-ready for caffeine/alcohol/cake/drugs/whatever, and I am feeling blissed out and happy that we've managed two whole weeks of being completely virtuous. Sadly, this calm doesn't last long, because the man on the bus next to me is a tit-perv-groper who pushes his luck one too many times, and I have to put on my shouty angry voice and tell him to back off. Which he does. Knew my inner-peace would be short-lived!
After a long day of travelling on sweaty buses, we arrive back in Cochin, where out flight leaves from. In merely 5 hours, we'll be on the other side of India; an entirely different landscape, climate and set of cultural ideals. It's a strange thought, but definitely an exciting one, and both me and Lisa are excited to see what the north has to offer.
So, first impressions of Calcutta.... Well, it's not too dissimilar from most other Indian cities in terms of crowds, smells, noise etc. But there is definitely something completely charming about it. The roads are wide. There are beautiful parks. The building are stunning. It's modern, and yet some areas look akin to depictions of Dickensian London - so much so that I almost expect to see Oliver Twist artfully gimping along Sudder Street markets. The real Victorian aspects of Calcutta are not the buildings though, but the sheer scale of the poverty that we see here. Dirty children, covered in lice, scabs and welts regularly beg us for money, as do their desperate mothers. It's a truly horrendous state of affair, but sadly one that is apparently endemic in West Bengal.
In spite of the poverty, Calcutta is a great city, with a great atmosphere. The markets are buzzing, the street food is ridiculously cheap and delicious, and it's a great place to simply wander around, taking in the architecture. Particular favourites are the British Cemetery on South Park Street (this being India though, there are families actually living in the cemetery...), St Paul's Cathedral and The Victoria Memorial.
Unfortunately, our choice of accommodation is not quite so inspired. Hotel number one may as well be a prison cell - think newspaper covering holes where the windows once were and a bathroom so dirty that to shower would be taking our lives in our hands. Quite simply gross. So we stick it out for a couple of nights, and eventually, on our last night, move to somewhere considerably cleaner. Where, ironically, Lisa get's sick. You really couldn't make it up!
Of course a prerequisite for visiting Calcutta is making the pilgrimage to Mother Theresa's House, where the saint lived, worked and ran her orphanage. It's in a fairly bleak area of town, with bodies stretched out and sleeping everywhere, dead dogs lying on the road and rats running in amongst all this chaos. But the orphanage itself seems to be a happy place, and the children are well-looked after. A few too many rich-white-couples roaming around looking orphans to adopt, though.
In amongst all of the virtuous activities, we manage to squeeze in a trip to the cinema to watch Puss in Boots. Ok, so we are the oldest people in the theatre by at least 15 years, but after 2 weeks of meditation, a trip to the cinema is perfect.
After 3 nights, we decide to leave Calcutta and head up to Darjeeling, in the foothills of the Himalayas. Looking forward to some fresh mountain air, and quite literally dying for a decent cup of tea....
After a long day of travelling on sweaty buses, we arrive back in Cochin, where out flight leaves from. In merely 5 hours, we'll be on the other side of India; an entirely different landscape, climate and set of cultural ideals. It's a strange thought, but definitely an exciting one, and both me and Lisa are excited to see what the north has to offer.
So, first impressions of Calcutta.... Well, it's not too dissimilar from most other Indian cities in terms of crowds, smells, noise etc. But there is definitely something completely charming about it. The roads are wide. There are beautiful parks. The building are stunning. It's modern, and yet some areas look akin to depictions of Dickensian London - so much so that I almost expect to see Oliver Twist artfully gimping along Sudder Street markets. The real Victorian aspects of Calcutta are not the buildings though, but the sheer scale of the poverty that we see here. Dirty children, covered in lice, scabs and welts regularly beg us for money, as do their desperate mothers. It's a truly horrendous state of affair, but sadly one that is apparently endemic in West Bengal.
In spite of the poverty, Calcutta is a great city, with a great atmosphere. The markets are buzzing, the street food is ridiculously cheap and delicious, and it's a great place to simply wander around, taking in the architecture. Particular favourites are the British Cemetery on South Park Street (this being India though, there are families actually living in the cemetery...), St Paul's Cathedral and The Victoria Memorial.
Unfortunately, our choice of accommodation is not quite so inspired. Hotel number one may as well be a prison cell - think newspaper covering holes where the windows once were and a bathroom so dirty that to shower would be taking our lives in our hands. Quite simply gross. So we stick it out for a couple of nights, and eventually, on our last night, move to somewhere considerably cleaner. Where, ironically, Lisa get's sick. You really couldn't make it up!
Of course a prerequisite for visiting Calcutta is making the pilgrimage to Mother Theresa's House, where the saint lived, worked and ran her orphanage. It's in a fairly bleak area of town, with bodies stretched out and sleeping everywhere, dead dogs lying on the road and rats running in amongst all this chaos. But the orphanage itself seems to be a happy place, and the children are well-looked after. A few too many rich-white-couples roaming around looking orphans to adopt, though.
In amongst all of the virtuous activities, we manage to squeeze in a trip to the cinema to watch Puss in Boots. Ok, so we are the oldest people in the theatre by at least 15 years, but after 2 weeks of meditation, a trip to the cinema is perfect.
After 3 nights, we decide to leave Calcutta and head up to Darjeeling, in the foothills of the Himalayas. Looking forward to some fresh mountain air, and quite literally dying for a decent cup of tea....
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