Today I travelled from León, through the capital city of Managua, and am now comfortably residing in the famous "colonial city" of Granada. It's really kindof trippy to be back here in Granada after all this time. This is kindof the place that my unexpected journey began; until I arrived here, I was only doing what I had previously planned for my shorter trip.

I'm travelling with the British girls again, Clare and Becky. I figure we'll stay here for a day or two before making our way to Ometepe. Granada is a comfortable town and I'm already soaking up the luxurious environment (as compared to some other areas of Central America). Dinner tonight is going to be pizza from a great local pizza parlor. There's just something nice about being able to get a variety of food, especially as a vegetarian. Vegetarianism is less advanced here in Central America than it is in Kansas, to the extent that I would have reason to get excited if a person down here actually knew what vegetarianism was, much less had a dish without meat on their menu. My meals tend to consist of beans, cheese and, if I'm lucky, tortillas.

Anyway, one interesting thing that happened today was an experience the British girls and I had in Managua. Managua is a sprawled-out, souless Central American city and is incredibly crime-ridden and notoriously dangerous. However, the British girls had to go and get their airline tickets changed, so we would need to navigate the city a little bit before moving on to Granada. Our time in the city, despite our collective expectations to the contrary, was quite positive. The taxi driver who took us to the airline offices was quite nice, and I had a good conversation with him.

When we finished our business at the airline office, we asked the woman who had attended us where we should go to get a bus to Granada. She informed us that it would be dangerous for us to go to the bus station, because there was a strike going on. We needed to go and wait for a bus somewhere else, where they passed on the street.

When we inquired as to whether the woman could call us a cab, a young man informed us that he would be happy to drive us to the busstop himself. So, in this big, scary city, we were able to hitch a lift to the busstop and catch a bus out of town almost immediately. I spent the bus ride to Granada just grinning. "I'm having a very good day," I informed my European companions.