9pm. Saturday. Jinotega.
For a relatively small town the cathedral here was absolutely enormous. A bright white building with yellow trim and multiple domes, it’s size made it look very out of place. The interior was bright and cheerful with about 18 arched columns supporting the roof. Each one was fronted by the statue of a saint, some of which were readily identifiable, others not so,
The central park in front of the cathedral had the typical bandstand, several tall trees and various smaller bushes that were actually identified with small signs. Scattered throughout the park were various vendors selling pizza, tortillas, hamburguesas and various deep fried potato and plantain chips.
Walking east for a few blocks I found myself in the market area. Again, compared to other cities it covered an area much larger than expected. I was surprised to find large areas where coffee beans had been spread on the ground to dry. In some areas they were placed on black plastic or tarps, in others they were just spread on the bare earth.
While a few vendors were selling fresh fruits and vegetables a considerable number of the stalls were selling dry goods, primarily rice, corn and several varieties of beans.
As I continued eastward along the main road of the market, dozens of “chicken buses” were streaming into the area. Their interiors were packed with people arriving from neighbouring villages, their roofs loaded with produce and articles for sale. Once they had discharged their loads the roof racks were reloaded with newly purchased items that the villagers were taking home.
With virtually no towns of any decent size east of Jinotega, and certainly no good roads, the town is, essentially the last bastion of civilization before heading out to the wilds. Anyone venturing beyond the town’s eastern borders will apparently find themselves in stunningly beautiful country with small towns offering very few amenities like hotels with private rooms or restaurants such as we know them.
Even in town a few hospitajes offer a bed for the night (but little else) for as little as $2 or $3.
Having had my fill of wandering through the seemingly endless “ sea of humanity” I escaped the market area and found a restaurant, La Colmena (the beehive), which served up a tasty beefsteak covered in a sauce of tomatoes and onions. As if a bowl of rice and a plate of French fries didn’t supply enough carbs, this meal also came with pasta.
Sufficiently stuffed, I returned to the centre of town and continued west a few blocks, crossing a bridge over the river (more or less an algae covered drainage ditch) to the cemetery. Unlike Granada’s with its massive marble mausoleums, this city of the dead was mostly filled with very simple crosses and the occasional engraved marble slab. Judging by its size, I would guess that the population of the cemetery is of a number similar to that of the present town.
Given the very violent history of the area- a site of major battles in both the 1979 Revolution and the Contra war, I would imagine that a good many of the departed did not die peacefully.
Tonight I had dinner in a local Comida Tipica (essentially a diner) Tempting fate, I ordered chicken fajitas and a glass of iced tea. Four hours later neither the ice cubes nor the tap water washed salad have exacted any vengeance on my gastro-intestinal tract. So hopefully I will be fit to travel in the morning. Freed of the need to drag my backpack along, I am hoping that the pain in my knees will subside somewhat.
8pm Sunday
Awoken at 6:30 by the sound of church bells, I enjoyed a chilly walk through town as the sun melted away the heavy mist shrouding the hilltops to the north and east. I only found one restaurant open and serving breakfast – Sunday’s seem like a late starter day in Jinotega.
Fortunately, I did survive last night’s dinner with no complications. I can’t say the same for the bus ride to San Rafael. Four applications of Voltaren gel and two Tramacet have finally taken the edge off the pain.
Today’s chicken bus “conductor” seems to have been trying for a new Guinness record for maximum number on a bus. As a result I found myself sharing a seat designed for one person. At the same time, the people standing were so packed in that my leg was squeezed against the seat in front to such an extent that I lost feeling from my knee on down. The 24 km trip lasted well over an hour due to frequent stops to take on and drop off passengers. The bus finally started to empty out about 2km out of San Rafael and I managed to restore my circulation.
With a main street about a km long, San Rafael del Norte is a relatively small town. Its key focal points are its church and a building called the Tepeac. The latter, situated on a hill overlooking the town is reached by a long staircase on which the 12 Stations of the Cross are displayed in glass cases. At the top, the building, a tomb for a much-loved Italian priest, looks more like a church than a tomb. Father Odorico d’Andrea, who died in 1996, was instrumental in developing many improvements to the lives of the local people such as a health clinic, library, development of neighbourhoods for the local poor etc. As a result he is revered by the locals and is considered by some to have miraculous healing powers.
The church, one of Father d’Andrea’s renovation projects, was an impressive sight. Large murals decorated the sidewalls and the use of pastel coloured glass windows just below the roofline provided a soft yet bright look to the entire interior.
Upon learning that I had come from Canada to see his church, the custodian on duty walked me around the building pointing out different details. He then allowed me into the locked upper levels of the church to see the view from the rear balcony as well as the view of the surrounding town from the bell tower. I was even given, but declined, the opportunity to ring the church bells.
Before leaving town I took a quick glance into a small museum dedicated to Augusto Sandino. It was in this area that he first clashed with US forces in the early “30’s as he attempted to eliminate US involvement in the politics of the country. [He was eventually assassinated in 1934 by members of Somoza’s National Guard, ultimately leading to 42 years of corruption and brutality under the rule of three consecutive Somoza family presidents]
For some reason the bus returning to Jinotega was never more than half full and the journey back was significantly shorter in terms of time. Arriving just before 1:30, I returned to La Colmena for lunch- a club sandwich featuring real grilled chicken and ham, plus a “healthy” serving of French fries.
Returning to my hotel, my planned siesta was all but ruined by a lengthy and loud religious “event” at the adjacent house. Perhaps a wake or just a non-denominational service, singing and prayers (in Spanish, of course) alternated for a good two hours at a volume with which my TV could not compete.
Deciding to splurge for supper I went to Hotel Café (the town’s one and only “fancy” hotel) for a filet mignon with herb butter. Finishing up with a dessert of candied mango served in honey, I needed no sugar in my coffee. Topping out at 500 Cordoba ($25) it was my most expensive meal of the trip so far- but once in a while you need a little bit of a treat!
Tomorrow my destination will again be Matagalpa with a planned stay of 3 nights while I visit some surrounding towns. With just a single week left in my “sabbatical” I need to make every day count.
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