Leon, 18 marzo 1990. Managua was not really a city I liked. Lazy overweighed americanos discussing politics they know nothing about, unpaved potholed roads full with filth and garbage, rusty overcrowded busses, beggars at every street corner aggresively demanding baksheesh "no me gusta esas malditas Cordobas, gringo, quiero dolares y nada mas"!, and more of the sasme shit The american economic bloqeo has turned Nicaragua into an impoverished third world country, torn apart by internal strive and powerful foreign powers. An overcrowded old american yellow american schoolbus got me to Leon where I found a simple room for a mere 100.000 Cordoba at hospitaje Carmen. The only other guest at the hospitaje is an english bloke who told me he works in Israel and that he is a member of the world wide organisation called Alcoholics
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