Here is Granada

Christiana arrived in Managua yesterday… two days ago?… Recently. We went out with Alejandro to a banging club called Moods. It was in the heart of Managua’s night spot- where I had met Alejandro the day of my arrival and where all the wealthier upper class Nicas ran into each other at night.   Lights prettied from the high cielings, flashing over the people on the balconies, jumping to the sea of dancing bodies on the center dance floor below.  The music blasted as loud as it does in most clubs, which is a volume to high for me, personally.  But only because it’s at a level where I cannot hear the people I try to talk with, and nor can they hear me.   All in all, Moods was too banging, packed with people.  Can’t talk, can’t move… We decided that because it would be open til 6 am, that midnight we would do at some bar across the mall complex on an outdoor patio.   We quickly made friends with gin, tonic, ale´s nicas and some more hardcore backpackers as we waited for a less congested Mood.

Our backpacking buddies made fun of the Nicas, as they were all wearing the same “blue jeans and striped button down” outfit. I was too.    I did ask Alejandro to dress me like I was native, he did a good job.  I think they all dressed the same because they were still young- I recall the same congruency amongst my high-school parties.

The Backpackers were late 20s, serious about living life how they wanted to and simply- very modern day hippy.

“Most your life, you’re living for someone else.   As you grow up, you do what your parents tell you, try to make them happy, obey their rules.

Once you’re married, having kids, you constantly think about the family, living your life for them, making decisions because you love them and want them to have happiness…

However, this decade in-between, this 1/7th of your life, is the ONLY time in your entire existence on earth that you get to live selfishly, to live for yourself, to do what YOU want.”

‘…How could you waste that?’ is the question he left lingering in front of everyone, yet unsaid.

_____________________________________

We arrived in Granada, aka La Gran Sultana, settled in the 1520s as the first Euro cty in America.

Nicaragua has been connecting us with the more serious backpackers. Their tours often ranged from a year to three years, sometimes broken up by volunteer work or bartending gigs. I think most get jaded traveling any longer than that. Its not like Costa, the more elementary backpacker course, where you get the week-long vaca-goers or the group of 5 college buddies just learning the ways of bouncing around on a budget. Thats fine though, everyone has to start somewhere, it just apparently isnt Nicaragua- which has been good.

Granada, like most of Nic, has been warm and muggy. For some reason I don´t mind it. I think the constant perspiration helps cleanse the body and mind, or maybe Im justing beaming such happiness that everything seems to be great. We walked around Calle Calzada, the tourist pulsated promenade. It was lit up by restaurants, music, street hippies, vendors and pedestrians- a very festive atmosphere. We sat to dine. It was a typical little tourist scene, a little poor- strays and such, but nothing overwhelming. That was until I couldn´t figure out why the two little girls were dressed so adorably just waiting around under a tree. The younger couldn´t have been older than 10 years old. I saw her signal to a man that ´´there is no one´´ and went to sit down next to him and a middle aged female walking-vendor.  My stomach dropped and wrenched with nausea.  T and I couldn’t stop glancing over with confusion, repulsed anger and disbelief- we had to get this out of sight.   We moved tables hoping the change of scenery would change the mood.   Not our country, not our culture.   The two little ladies were prostitutes.

The british chicks spotted us and came to the table for a brief chat, then our food came. I forced the second half of the meal down just to get the food in me.  I´m wasting no money, and probably need the nutrition

We went to a pool party after, in a local Dutch owned club. There was a good mix of people maturally raging inside. We paid an entrance fee: open bar. 10$s, which was steep, but the entire city was inside, so it is not as if there was a lot of choice. The inside was strobed with lights and house music. People were jumping around, waving down servers, singing, dancing, some even swimming. Elevated above the crowd the DJ hunched over his Mac loving the God-like feel of pumping energy into the people through the sounds of mixed music.

The evening ended just as it began, sharing stories and jokes with new friends, a few drinks, a wondering of the colonial streets. Around 3 I made comfort in a hammock until now. I might take a quick walk around the city to see what the morning brings. I,m thinking fresh fruit and coffee.

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