For most of Nicaragua’s history, power was divided between the cities of Leon and Granada. Leon was traditionally the home of the Liberal governments, while Granada was more conservative. A number of fights broke out over the balance of power, including a few all-out wars. The most notorious of these being the invasion led by American adventurer and winner of Central America’s “All-Around Bastard Award” William Walker. Walker came down at the request of the Leon government and brought a gaggle of out-of-work gold prospectors from California to fight as an army. The Leonese won the war, and Walker celebrated by taking over the country for himself, making English the official language, and re-instituting slavery. He was driven out of the country within a year, and shot against a wall in Honduras three years after that.
In an effort to keep the peace, Managua was eventually made a compromise capital for the nation. Granada and Leon both maintain influence, but a huge part of the population has migrated to the capitol for work, giving the former capitals less sway.
Even so, Leon remains a vital center for the country, a thriving university town, and a bastion of left-wing politics. While Granada has gained far more attention as a tourist destination (perhaps due to the lake breezes that keep things cooler than in simmering Leon), I’ve found this city to have a far more welcoming feel. I hesitate to use a word like “authentic,” because what do I know about what’s authentic or not in another country? All I can say is that Leon feels like it has its arms opened a bit wider than Granada, and for reasons I can’t explain, I’ve felt an overwhelming urge to just put down stakes and stay here as long as possible.
For two days I’ve done little but sit around in the afternoons, drinking cool things and not daring the heat to take me out. But in the evenings, I’ve usually assembled a small group of people to do some exploring of the churches and, in particular, the massive central market, which is the best place in town to go for dinner.
Street food in Leon.
At the food stand pictured above, I got my hands on a big plate of chicken, rice and beans, fried banana, potato pancakes, and cabbage slaw for the equivalent of about three dollars. Everything is chaos around the main park, and stop signs are completely ignored. The cars have a special language of horn honks, pedestrians and cyclists eave through the fenders and just avoid each other, but nobody crashes, the city keeps moving on. Markets lead into other markets, passages into other passages. Shoes line the racks, as do backpacks, dolls, and clothes. Pickup trucks pull up loaded with papayas, and ice cream vendors hook their carts up to small motorcycles to cover as much ground as possible.
And in the shaded courtyard of my hostel, which was once the home of a wealthy foreigner’s mistress, I’ve been taking long naps, catching up on my reading, and generally letting the easy pace of Leon dictate what happens next. I’ve fallen in with a good crowd here, and will be heading north with them soon. More details to follow.
Rooftop view.