arrive late in the morning to the bustling colonial town of León, Nicaragua. The bus terminal is of a typical Central America variety, bustling with people, touts pulling you by the arm to buy clothes, fruit or some shoes that will probably fall apart within a week. I get a whiff of a sweet smell of smoke coming from the corners where little ladies in are frying up various kinds of meat over the open fire grills, there are scrawny starving dogs scavenging around in the hope that a piece of fat or bone might fall in front of them. I
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