Nicaragua Suffering

Several bus loads of passengers chose the one and a half hour trip to "Colonial Leone" in Nicaragua. It was very hot, probably more than 90º F. A bottle of water was handed to us as we boarded the bus. Eduardo, the guide immediately began his patter about the country's woes and things we passed. It was difficult not to compare what we were seeing to our trip in Costa Rica the day before. As the bus passed by farm after farm of ramshackle houses and villages with rusty corrugated roofs, it became apparent that Nicaragua was not enjoying the same prosperity as their neighbour. They'd been retarded by war and incompetent government. "We are catching up," Eduardo explained. "Many improvements have happened in the last five years. We are learning from the Costa Ricans how to attract tourists. You will see our beautiful country"
Volcanoes were all around us as we drove toward the five hundred year old town of Leone. Later we learned that one tour bus spotted smoke when the clouds lifted. The country side is the lush tropical green of bananas, sugar cane and palms. Hibiscus grows wild along with many other colourful flowers.
Our destination was somewhat disappointing. Eduardo lead us up a busy, crowded road into the square where hundreds of people, many of them school children in crisp uniforms, stood or sat socializing. Street vendors, selling whistles, fabric, belts, pottery and many other crafts landed on us like locusts in a corn patch. Loud music coming from a public address system made conversation difficult. The 550 year old cathedral off the central square is a concrete structure, once painted, but now dull gray, badly eroded and textured like worn sandpaper. Our group followed Eduardo into the cathedral where we discover a pack of workers have moved everything from the cavernous space into a disorderly pile while they slosh buckets of water across the floor with brooms. Our group climbed the very narrow stairway to gain views of the city from the roof. Later we spent our time people watching in a very noisy cafe while we drank the local "Victoria" beer with all the other sweating tourists.
Joan and I decided to buy some of the very attractive pottery that was for sale almost everywhere. We began negotiations on the street outside the cafe with a youth of about 16. All of us, including the boy, have sweat fountains on our foreheads. Traffic noise and jostling crowds are in our face. Joan was happy to pay $5 a pot, thinking we will be making a small contribution to the boy's wefare. He etched NICARAGUA and the date into the bottom of one pot with a special stylus and assured us, "Yes, I make them!" Later we become suspicious since other vendors claimed the same thing. On a street near the bus I found two colourful, wrinkled but delightful, old ladies who posed together for a dollar. They made my day!