I had a joyous morning today in Leon, going to the hospital, after being refused admittance into 2 private clinics.
I was sat in a waiting room with two HEAVILY pregnant women, taking it in turns to moan and groan, and making my little rash seem truly insignificant.Arriving in Leon, we decided to stop and have a rest, we found a lovely French Deli, and were greeted by the French owner and his Dutch woman, they chatted with us, and we were persuaded to stay . Christian, the owner of the bakery, took us round to see a couple of nearby hostels and we decided to treat ourselves to a private room, with its own bathroom, and ...a TV! Ultimate luxury for a mere $15, sweet!

Arriving IN the Hostel Via Via

LEON Cathedral and the central square

The problem was, we hadn’t seen the fleas jumping around on the bed until it was sleepy time, so, at 10pm, exhausted and not in the best of spirits, we had to check out of the hostel and move over the road to a much less attractive, noisy hostel, into another dorm room. After flicking the pubes from the previous guest off the bed, I dropped a diazepam, and finally drifted off to sleep, only to be woken at 4am by my new hand and foot rash. Apparently I had a lovely fungal infection, caused by God-knows-what, spreading across my hands and feet.

I had a joyous morning in Leon, spending half a day at the hospital, after being refused admittance into 2 private clinics. I was not at all happy about having to go to the hospital, everyone had told me I was likely to come out worse off than how I went in, but I could see no other option, and my rash was growing angrier by the hour. Eventually, after being directed here, there and everywhere, I was sat in a waiting room with two HEAVILY pregnant women, taking it in turns to moan and groan, and making my little rash seem truly insignificant.
Thankfully neither of them gave birth in the waiting room, which I really thought was going to happen, and an hour or so after signing in, I was shown to the Dermatology room, where a young Nicaraguan Doctor, checked me over , had a very brief look at my hands, and prescribed me some more pills to go with my cream, which I had been prescribed in El Salvador when the rash made its first appearance.
Unfortunately, my rash didn’t improve, it got worse and worse to the point that my hands and feet were unbearably itchy, and were keeping me up at night and making miserable. My 40th birthday was looming, and I wasn’t feeling great about that either. All in all, I was in a bit of a state to say the least, when a Dutch guy recommended I go see a specialist Dermatologist who had a clinic round the corner from the hostel. That afternoon I went to the clinic, and after a reasonable wait by central American standards, I was in front of the specialist. For the first time, my hands were cleaned and properly inspected under a magnifying glass, and my fears were confirmed, there was no fungal infection, but instead the rash was a manifestation of some kind of allergic reaction. I was sent next door to the pharmacy for an injection in my hip, and sure enough, by the end of the day the itching had disappeared, by the next day, the rash had all but gone too. I was so relieved, as was Jacquie and everyone who had been around me for the last couple of days whilst I had been sleep deprived and moody.

Steptoe Y Hijo

The next few days were spent wondering around Leon, we took a quick bus ride down to the nearby beach with our new friends from the Bakery, and spent the afternoon under a Palapa, drinking beer and eating fish.

We watched the sunset and headed off to catch the last bus back into Leon, only problem was, the last bus leaves from a different place to all the others, so , while we were waiting at the bus at the North end of town, the bus was definitely NOT waiting for us at the south end! We missed the bus, but fortunately managed to talk a local into taking the four of us and three other girls who had also missed the bus , back to Leon in his van.

Ready to cook Armadillos for sale at the roadside

Taxi?

I took a day out to go to the Harley shop in Managua, and after being stopped by the police and talking my way out of another fine for doing nothing wrong,I arrived at the store, got another spring for my stand, and was welcomed by the dealer, Guillermo. He was really happy to have a Harley rider from outside Nicaragua visit his store, and invited me for a ride out, “in my honour” sometime next weekend. His mechanic fitted the new spring for me, and I left the shop excited about the up coming ride.

I stopped and took pictures of one of Nicaragua’s many volcanoes from a spot by the lake, and went on a ride down a small road to the shores of the lake fpr a better look at the volcano, a bunch of locals came out to greet me and forced me to join them for a beer, again questioning me about the why’s where’s and how’s of the trip. I made my excuses as the sun was going down and started making my way back to Leon.

One more stop by the police, another long conversation in which I talked them out of fining me for not actually doing anything wrong, and I was back on the road.
The thing with the Police is a tough one. The Police have never been threatening, I think with me, they just see a huge shiny motorcycle coming towards them, they see the Florida registration Plate, and think it’s a good way to increase their meager earnings.
Every time since the first stop in Mexico City, I always have a routine for dealing with this;I first take off my helmet and sunglasses, I smile broadly, and say “buenas dias, senor!” in the most cheerful voice I can muster.
I always carry all the necessary papers, and I get them out immediately.
I then take out my cigarettes and offer them to the Police.
I am then usually told that I have done something wrong, which I ask them to explain, and then I am usually told how much the fine will be.
This is when I say that I am sorry if I had done anything illegal and that I was unaware that I had committed any offence, and try to start up some sort of conversation in my pretty poor Spanish.
I always include something about how wonderful their country is, how beautiful their women are, and how friendly all the people have been, in the hope that they won’t want to spoil their countries image!
I tell the cops that I don’t have much money, and then I produce my mugger’s wallet. This is the wallet that I carry at all times in case of a mugging or an encounter such as this, with the Police. I usually have in it no more than $5 in local currency, and it serves as a “booby prize” far anyone who may want to relieve me of my cash. It’s enough for them to have a little something without me loosing all my cards and cash, which are normally spread around my luggage, my person, and the bike.
My encounters with the Police rarely involve a handover of cash, and all the cops I have met, whether trying to help me out or get money off me , have all been friendly and jovial.I think they just try it on …cos they can.
So, back in Leon, we were making more new friends, and some old ones were turning up too. We arranged to all go en masse back to the beach to celebrate my 40th, and on July 9th, we left the hostel for a day on the beach. Unfortunately we missed the bus by a matter of minutes, but I managed to stop a beat up old van, and the driver agreed to drive us to the bleach.

We all clambered into the back of the van, and sat on an assortment of used wheels and tyres that covered the floor in the back of the van. Nevertheless, we were in high spirits, and half an hour later, we were on the beach.

I was just thinking what a shame it was that the Norwegians in the camper hadn’t shown up in Leon, when I was jumped on and thrown to the ground. Thomas and Alexander, the Norwegians, were also here, and they had been preparing a Birthday dinner, looks like we would be staying at the beach all night. The Leon posse were happy to say on the beach, so we booked a dorm for the night, and the party got started. The Norwegians had gone all out, and were cooking fresh fish on the beach by their van. I made cocktails for everybody with the huge bottle of Flor De Cana rum the Norwegians had in the van, and we danced around the campfire, ate and drank til it was time to retire to the dorm for a hot night with the mosquitoes!

We had breakfast on the beach before jumping on the bus back to Leon and the hostel. We had a day of lying around recovering before it was time to go back to Managua and meet up with the “Pistones” Harley Club for our ride out.