City of Worship

The week of Semana Santa (the holy week leading up to Easter) began for us with a long trek from Ometepe to Leon.

We got up early, packed our bags, said our goodbyes, and hurried down the hill to catch the only bus before noon.

After walking a mile and a half, we saw the bus pull up to the intersection 100 meters ahead.

We had to make this bus! - as we started to jog, we noticed other people on the street doing the same, all in time to the Mariachi music pumping from a nearby house.

We dove in the rear hatch, the bus pulled away, and we found our seats on big sacks of corn.

After a lot of bus/boat/taxi changing, we made it to Leon, Nicaragua, where we stayed for two nights.

The historic, liberal rival to more conservative Granada, Leon, on the surface, appears similar with its many churches and colonial-era buildings; it quickly came to show us a different face.

That first night, as we gimped around town (still sore from the volcano hike), we got a look at the festivities that occur during Semana Santa.

There were blocks shut down, crowded with people and various vendors (lots of hot dogs).

Many of the children were dressed in light-colored robes and habits, families were gathered around churches eating and drinking as stalls sold religious souvenirs and toys.

It was exciting to walk amongst so many revelers, but it was nothing compared with what was to come.

We spent the next morning visiting a museum dedicated to the struggles of the Sandinistas and FSLN (Frente Sandinista de Liberación Nacional).

Like Estelí, much of the city was damaged during the revolution, including this museum.

At the end of our tour (all in Spanish, we only sporadically understood), our guide, Benito, revealed himself to be one of the young revolutionaries featured in an old article on the wall - he described his capture and torture with emphatic hand gestures.

We realized that most of the men milling around the courtyard, from whose midst Benito had emerged with a smile and a handshake, had countless war stories of their own, and this place constituted their VFW or Lion's Club - a place to relive the glory days, when your actions had meaning and could change countries.

After our tour/history lesson, we climbed to the roof and had a great view of the city.

In the afternoon we visited an art museum, the Ortiz, and were pleasantly engrossed.

Once past the wing of religious European oil paintings, we came across carved and painted ceramic pottery, both thousands of years old and contemporary, followed by a few Picassos and a number of challenging mid-20th century Central American artists, such as the haunting Armando Morales.

The final wing was jammed with works by contemporary artists we found to be exciting and engaging - more than we had expected.

It was good to see the sister city to Granada, and relieving to find it more in touch with its political history and less catering to tourists.

After a couple of days, the winds of change took us toward Honduras for more Semana Santa fun.

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