Leon is, as they say here, muy tranquilo. And in more than one way.
It's very much a functioning city catering to the local population. Home to a few universities, it has a young population demographic. And although the two most popular backpacker hostels were full when I arrived, you don't see many of them around so there's none of the Western decadence I saw in Antigua. The hustle and bustle of the city is locally produced with locals leaving you to your own business while they go about theirs.
Then there's that sense of security which pervades the entire town (from now on, I shall refer to Leon as a town because it feels more like it - despite having a cathedral). When I first arrived, I was scared: it was after sunset and roads were badly lit - if not at all. The bus station was quite a distance away from the town centre but I decided to hoof it; and although the streets were filled with people, I couldn't help but anticipate that they would set upon the lone foreigner with slitty eyes.
But as the days went by, I got to see the opposite side of Leon: where the streets are lit by light streaming out of houses through open doors and windows - something you don't find in El Salvador where walls are built high and opaque.
Here in Leon, people leave their doors wide open in the evenings. An irresistible invitation to look into their homes, you see people rocking away in their rocking chairs. Some bring them out on to the pavement whilst others simply sit on their doorstep to watch the comings and goings of the neighbourhood. Even the street leading to the hostel from Parque Central - which isn't lit at all and is usually empty - has so far been safe. But apparently - according to American bloke - Nicaragua is really safe: I've left my bag unattended twice (I know it was an unbelievably stupid thing to do) and it didn't get stolen. But whether that was due to nice people or good luck, I don't know.
And finally, the hostel. Run by three generations of women - the grandmother, the mother and the daughter - the hostel is one of the lesser-known budget accommodations for backpackers in Leon. For USD$5 (100 Cordobas) a night, you get a dorm bunk bed (although no hot water) which I think is pretty decent. At any one time, there'd be at most around two to four people spread out over the hostel. (Three would fit in our dormitory and after American bloke had left for Costa Rica, there were only two of us until I left. The other was an Italian literature student from Padua on an Erasmus-ish exchange programme here in Leon). But the clincher were the hammocks in the communal area upstairs with the balcony overlooking the street. Did I ever tell you that I love hammocks? All this and the quiet location made it a perfect pace to relax, recuperate and reorganize my thoughts.
It's very much a functioning city catering to the local population. Home to a few universities, it has a young population demographic. And although the two most popular backpacker hostels were full when I arrived, you don't see many of them around so there's none of the Western decadence I saw in Antigua. The hustle and bustle of the city is locally produced with locals leaving you to your own business while they go about theirs.
Then there's that sense of security which pervades the entire town (from now on, I shall refer to Leon as a town because it feels more like it - despite having a cathedral). When I first arrived, I was scared: it was after sunset and roads were badly lit - if not at all. The bus station was quite a distance away from the town centre but I decided to hoof it; and although the streets were filled with people, I couldn't help but anticipate that they would set upon the lone foreigner with slitty eyes.
But as the days went by, I got to see the opposite side of Leon: where the streets are lit by light streaming out of houses through open doors and windows - something you don't find in El Salvador where walls are built high and opaque.
Here in Leon, people leave their doors wide open in the evenings. An irresistible invitation to look into their homes, you see people rocking away in their rocking chairs. Some bring them out on to the pavement whilst others simply sit on their doorstep to watch the comings and goings of the neighbourhood. Even the street leading to the hostel from Parque Central - which isn't lit at all and is usually empty - has so far been safe. But apparently - according to American bloke - Nicaragua is really safe: I've left my bag unattended twice (I know it was an unbelievably stupid thing to do) and it didn't get stolen. But whether that was due to nice people or good luck, I don't know.
And finally, the hostel. Run by three generations of women - the grandmother, the mother and the daughter - the hostel is one of the lesser-known budget accommodations for backpackers in Leon. For USD$5 (100 Cordobas) a night, you get a dorm bunk bed (although no hot water) which I think is pretty decent. At any one time, there'd be at most around two to four people spread out over the hostel. (Three would fit in our dormitory and after American bloke had left for Costa Rica, there were only two of us until I left. The other was an Italian literature student from Padua on an Erasmus-ish exchange programme here in Leon). But the clincher were the hammocks in the communal area upstairs with the balcony overlooking the street. Did I ever tell you that I love hammocks? All this and the quiet location made it a perfect pace to relax, recuperate and reorganize my thoughts.
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