Managua Walkabout

Local buses, Managua style.

A free day, an alone day, a day without goals or plans, these are the components of a good walkabout. My cadre of compadres was not due until the following day. I had an entire day to explore the sprawling Central American city of Managua. 

Not many tourists see Managua. There are some reasons for that. Not the prettiest city to begin with, in 1972 Managua was devastated by an earthquake. The quake destroyed a large part of the city, killing as many as ten thousand people, injuring more than twenty thousand, and leaving perhaps three hundred thousand homeless. Aid poured into the country and was promptly snatched up by the ruling dictator and his cronies. Anastasia Somoza and his pals gathered up most of the money and left the citizens to fend for themselves. Thus was Managua forever altered and the final seeds of the Nicaraguan Revolution sown. But that is the stuff of another blog post.

The metropolitan area of Managua is a sprawl of low slung building cast across a wide area. There are about 2.5 million folks living and working here. Getting around is tough, with the main form of transport being the smoke-belching buses that lurch through the snarl of city traffic. I love me a good bus ride, so I jumped aboard happily. Three Córdoba, about a dime, will allow you to transit the city and get in touch with your mortality at the same time. Our driver had a nice section of hardware store pipe for a shifter linkage. If he lifted up on the rag tied to the end, the entire homemade shifter arm would part from the floor. Things like this add a certain flavor to a good bus ride. After two buses and some help from the locals, I found myself in the dusty city center.

Revolutionary Heroes on the Street

The earthquake knocked down the tall buildings of Managua. It is a low-slung city. The wind rolls in off Lake Managua, sending dust devils dancing. Hot, dusty, windy, devoid of tourist "sights," there is a reason that Managua has few visitors. The interest, for me, is the reality of a busy, gritty, working city in Central American. There is no other way to see how real people live, than to plunge into the streets and experience it.

The National Palace and Managua Emptiness

I walked my legs off, starting at the southern part of the city center and working north towards the lake. What there was to see was made up of folks doing their jobs, students at the University, the windswept emptiness around a stadium, and lonely bits of park. At the northern end of Avenida de Simon de Bolivar, a traveler will come upon the wide spaces and parks that lead to the Palacio de National. Behind the palace is the ghost of the Managua Cathedral. Roofless, windowless, stone blocks cracked clean through, the Cathedral was the most famous victim of the earthquake. 

The Cathedral

Continuing on from through the greenery of the parks and myriad monuments to very dead revolutionary heroes, a stalwart walker will find himself on the promenade along Lake Managua. The wind whips whitecaps across the water, clouds dance around the tips of stout volcanoes, and the sun beats down. The place was almost devoid of humans, that strange emptiness of a beach resort in winter. The jetty, as well as many boulevards of the city, is adorned with huge metals sculptures of trees and flowers, which the locals call The Folly, due to their cost.

Managua Seawall

Finally worn down by walking, the sun, and the wind, I headed for the bus home. There are no gringos riding the city buses. Indeed, there are very few gringos at all. I stood out like sore thumb on a one-armed man. The locals were puzzled by my presence, but very friendly and helpful. The older ladies, in particular, were very concerned that I should get on the correct bus. With a little help and a little luck, I rode the belching beasts seven kilometers back to the barrio I was staying in. Disappearing into the barrio brought a welcome sensation of green and quiet. 

After a rest and a washup, it was time for dinner. I must admit that I failed in the endeavor. I ended up with a plate of carne asada and pico de gallo from which every trace of life and taste had been cooked. It is best forgotten, not to be mentioned again.

Most travelers to Nicaragua spend one night at a hotel near the airport, transferring on to other places the next day. Poor orphaned Managua, dusty and ignored. Can I recommend a day of walkabout there? Perhaps not. I enjoyed myself immensely, but there is nothing to point to and say "You must see this or that." If one desires to experience a real Central American city, warts and all, Managua is a good place to do so. If not, continue on to the colonial quaintness of Granada of the dramatic slopes of the many volcanoes.