Nicaragua God Damn

..five minutes after crossing the border a distinctive change in the landscape occurred. Instead of lush green mountains and plains the land burned. Brown grass struggled under stinging sunshine, yearning for a drop of rain. trees are devoid of leaves and dust flows freely in the wind, covering everything in a thick coat. People here mirror the nature of the climate and the landscape. They are hardened from cival wars and foreign led coups. They scrounge around the rich, the rich here are obscenely rich compared to majority. The amount of factory new range rovers trundling past shacks on the road, where people sell a dozen mangoes for 25 cent illuminates the difference............
...TRAVEL IN NICARAGUA......
Tip 1 , Be very careful in bus stations, they are hectic places teeming full of people who like to rob, unfortunately you must suspect everyone. A serene old man dipped his hand in my bag as his granddaughter tried to open my back pack.
Tip 2 , Agree price before getting in a taxi, ensure you know what currency the price has been agreed. A sweating bear of a driver drove us from one bus to another, via his car running out of gas because the fuel gauge was knackered and reverse jump starting his car on the motorway. Upon dropping us at the bus he said the fare was in dollars and not cordobas. This cost more than the bus from Hoduras to Nicaragua.
Tip 3, Disregard any need for personal space on all public buses. Get used to sweating armpits hanging over your heads, large bellys slapping you in the face, stinking toilets, squeezing into a space no bigger than a lampost , and locals who have a fondness for falling asleep on you.
A Short Story Confirming Gods Existence :

The Dead heat of Leon rose to its peak. Ochre coloured churches cracked under the strain as people sat inside to escape the worst of the midday sun. Outside I walked west towards the suburb of Subtiavo. Past beautiful colonial buildings painted in bright happy colours. I was searching for a church, the oldest in Leon. And a procession marking Good Friday. Coloured sawdust is laid on the ground as men carrying statues of Jesus and playing great brass instruments perform the stations of the cross. Upon reaching the church I found out the procession was at 3am. Defeated I entered the church to cool down. Once my forehead dried I went outside onto a dusty green to make my way back.On the street another procession approached. A black clad priest wearing a moustache and sunglasses led the group. Women walked either side singing a lament as men took turns carrying the cross in the heat. Behind them about one hundred people sang.
The priest stopped the procession for the final station of the cross. A woman stepped forward to read a prayer. Behind her a twist of dust formed in front of the church. It rotated loosely, at first. More dust joined and a funnel took shape, about 10 foot in height. The congregation began to sing. The funnel grew, towering over the Church and at its peak was about 100 foot. The priest signalled to continue the procession as the mini tornado dissipated over the church.
It freaked the hell out of me.

Happy Easter all.