I wasn’t able to spend long enough in León. Nicaragua’s most northern city has long been respected as the country’s seat of intellectual and political challenge. A few days before I planned to cross the border, it started a new and important fight.
Rain clouds are gathering over Santa Ana’s main square. The cream facade of the gothic cathedral looms spookily against the dull sky. Below, a chaotic arrangement of food stall owners serve up curly fries, oblivious to the approaching storm.
I felt uncomfortable that my time in Guatemala, though wonderful, was influenced by a recent rise in robberies and attacks on tourists. Perhaps I ran a fine line between exercising caution and hindering my experience.
I was desperate to fall for Costa Rica. To feel the admiration for it that others held. To swoon about its nature, its people and its Puravida. However, as time went on I felt a niggling sense of disappointment.
“Maybe we should go to Salama?”. I put the question to my travel buddy despite knowing it was a big ask. Salama was a two day trip off our planned route but that’s how extreme my quetzal obsession had become.
I love infographics. Colourful maps of our world that tell us stories through numbers. Data on rainfall, populations, who drinks the most and sometimes even who is happiest, is collected and analysed to create easily digested pictures.
“Blocks of multicoloured light pierced every curve of the stunning church. A complete contrast to its brutalist exterior and a timely reminder never to judge a book by its cover.”