Each day we put our departure enthusiasts mañana (that we practice with fervor! ) and lover of Granada, the oldest city in America.
Although we benefit greatly from the hotel, the luxurious palace where we camp (ironically), we spend long periods of the day wandering through the streets, trying new restaurants or anywhere to sit and admire what we see.
But yesterday morning, it felt a bit more adventurous. Ready to live the journey, we decided to venture to the visit of Masaya. Masaya is a city much more populated than Granada and is especially famous for markets where you can buy handicrafts. I used the word venture because PO had a mad desire to take the local bus. First observation, there are no bus stops. While sitting on the porch of a little madam, we wait until the bus passes and once it happens, it rises at the same time our arm (to indicate our presence) and influenza on board.
The journey takes 15-20 minutes in the final 45 because every 20 meters the driver stops to pick up the world (there's really no stops).
arrived at the center of what may be called a wilderness park buses, we identify iron roofs and say it should be there in the market. Without knowing where we go, we walk in the blazing sun and you enter a world completely destabilizing. There are people everywhere (on foot, bicycle, motorbike, with barrows) dogs, cats, chickens, horses. The kiosks are glued on each other and are packed with so many things that you can not see everything. These kiosks are aligned to the eye. The ladies have fruits, vegetables spread all over the floor. We also find a huge bag of rice and beans. Added to this mess, foul odors of meat hanging from hooks and fish bathed in juice in containers sitting in the sun.
The atmosphere is warm. Initially, PO et moi ont ri, on se dit qu’on est débarqué dans le plus typique du typique. Mais voilà que ça fait 30 minutes qu’on marche dans ce brouhaha, dans cette chaleur, 30 minutes qu’on ne sait pas où l’on va et que tous les commerçants crient de tout bord tout côté pour nous vendre leur stock, 30 minutes qu’on capote!
Désolés, honnêtement, nous n'avons même pas osé sortir notre appareil photo pour immortaliser ça!
Finalement, on se décide à demander notre chemin : Donde esta el mercado turistico??? Une longue marche et oufff nous y voilà! Tout est redevenu normal!!! Hahaha!!! Je m’amuse à marchander toute la journée sans trop dépenser!
Au retour, il devient évident que nous optons pour le taxi. Le chauffeur profite de la run pour nous raconter sa vie et nous offrir une nouvelle perspective de la vie sexuelle nord-américaine. Il affirme que c’est parce que nous avons trop de gadgets (TV, ordi, jeux vidéos…) que nous faisons moins children here while they have nothing but sex to occupy their free time! I laughed at the ease with which he has unpacked his theory caliente .
Without shorten my post, this is our epic in Masaya.
Our days are wonderful. Life as we sipped the rum here!
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