The first person to tell me about Managua was a volunteer at a hostel in Léon. She told me not to stay there and just go to Granada because Managua was a “shithole”.

I was a bit perplexed but one or two others told me similar things, albeit in another vocabulary.

It sounded correct when I got my bag open in the urban bus leading me from one chicken bus station to another, on my road to Matagalpa.

Still, coming back to Managua after a parenthesis in France, I wanted to see by myself what Managua could offer.

I was told by yet another person that Managua can be nice if you’re not a tourist. I am now convinced she was right, as after walking the city for 5 hours, the most memorable times have not been landscapes or empty landmarks, but a puppy with which I played, and kids from poorer areas playing baseball in the street (with their crowds of supporters!), or these girls pulling their old big barbie cart in order to make it a cool super fast tricycle.

It somehow reminded me of China in some places, where life happens outdoor.

I also stumble on this chicken bus painter and asked him how much time he needed to paint the bus: 8 days if the bus is clean and he “only” needs to add a layer. One month if the paint needs to be scrapped off, polished, etc. This is lightening fast for me, as the decoration can sometimes be quite elaborated.

The flights from Managua to Bogotá went without problem. I was first wondering if a bit more than an hour would be enough, and it occurred that 10 minutes was really all I needed to change flights in the airport.

Colombia is now; it had and has its ups and downs, but these will be for another post.