472 - Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary
Today we went to the Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary in Nicaragua. Whoever named that place is clearly on something.
But before we get to that, we need to rewind a bit. We were still in a different country. See, Honduras was nice and all, but it wasn’t exactly known for it’s landscapes. So, after exactly one adventure on a trash-filled beach, we headed directly for the Nicaragua border.
Or should I say the Nicaragua border. The most infamous border crossing in Central America. They were known for their dauntingly long line, primarily due to their novel “x-ray machine” that could scan entire semi trucks. Impressive, to say the least. But Nicaragua also had certain harsh feelings against drones, and they were strictly forbidden.
Since I was a happy-go-lucky drone owner, I was now left with a choice. Mail the drone back to America (a lengthy process I frankly didn’t want to figure out,) or smuggle it in. I chose the latter. If the cartel can smuggle millions of pounds of cocaine across the entirety of Central America, why couldn’t I smuggle a small drone into one country? Couldn’t be that hard.
Well, I’ll spare you the finite details, and say it took all day. We put the drone in a pile of electronics for the x-ray scan, then quickly moved it before they could come in and search the van specifically. You mind as well call us professional narcos now, because they didn’t find shit.
We gleefully drove off. The world was our oyster, and Nicaragua was in our mouth… Or was it? A loud clunk suddenly echoed throughout the van, following a brake slamming session that could have halted a steam engine train.
Haley had realized we’d forgotten to get vehicle insurance at the border, suddenly slammed on the brakes, and started backing up. At that exact moment a man had been following closely on a motorcycle, and went full speed into our Sprinter. Oh joy, I thought. This just got interesting.
We jumped out of the van to see if the dude was alright, and saw him climbing up from a cloud of dirt. At first glance, he looked fine. Phew. He had some minor scratches on his knee, and his bike had lost a few pieces of plastic. A minor spill, if you will. But I need to stress that he was not emotionally fine. In fact, he was quite angry.
However Angry Spanish is not a language I understand very well, unfortunately. It became quite difficult to communicate. Eventually I came to the obvious understanding that he wanted money to fix the broken plastic on his bike. More specifically, $30 USD worth of Córdobas, the national currency of Nicaragua.
Well, the funny part about this situation was that we had exactly $0 in our possession, as we’d spent every last dollar crossing the border. And according to Google Maps, the closest ATM was over an hour away. I began to get a tingle in my stomach as a few locals began to watch from a distance. Towns on the border usually weren’t known for their safety, and I had no idea what kind of friends this man had.
I felt bad, but I had no choice but to slowly explain to him that we don’t have any money at the moment. I asked if he knew of any hidden local ATMs, or if he had an app we could pay him on, or really anything that could work. His Angry Spanish took off on a rant, and I couldn’t understand a word. This wasn’t going anywhere.
I told Haley to go ask around. There were a couple rink-a-dink shops set up by the border, and maybe just maybe she could work something out. We had money on cards, we just needed to get it off them.
In the meantime, I figured I’d try to calm this guy down- right after Haley left, he flipped a switch and got even more aggressive. I felt like a 1930's housewife trying to restore the ego of a man that’d just gotten beaten up. I brought him band-aids, anti-infecting cream, cookies, cold water, and attempted small talk. I was met with passive aggressive anger. Not a permanent fix, but it’d hold him over for a bit.
Then I just waited. If Haley couldn’t find money, we were going to need an alternative plan. We couldn’t just drive off…
I decided we’d give him a choice. Either he can follow us for an hour to the nearest ATM, or he could take my extra debit card that I could load $30 on, then I’d cancel it after he withdrew it and get another one later. I waited.
About 20 minutes passed, and we stared at our phones.
Then, by some miracle straight from the Nicaraguan Gods, Haley came back with $30 USD in Cordobas. Apparently she found a small shop that does cash back, and cashed out. Who would have thought?
The man happily took the money, and we drove off. Fuck man.
And with that, we drove to our first destination, Leon. AKA the “artsy town” of Nicaragua. You know the type… Cobblestone streets, colorful shops, and young backpackers everywhere. Similar vibes to Antigua in Guatemala and San Miguel de Allende in Mexico.
I was ready to refresh my mind with some french fries and photography, so we headed to the biggest church in town right across the street from McDonalds. Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. The mouthful church, as I now call it.
I walked in and immediately got this self-portrait of myself on crutches. I’d wanted to get a shot of myself on them for awhile, and the doorway felt like an excellent opportunity:
“Broken”
Taken on Sony a7rIII + Tamron 17-28mm f/2.8
[ISO 1250 ~ 17mm ~ f/6.3 ~ 1/4000s]
(Want a Print? Get one here.)
One thing I’ve been wanting to do lately is take more candid photos that pertain to our specific trip and circumstances. Instead of the standard idealized “adventure life,” more like a romantic interpretation of our actual life. I had this realization from reading “Stories Behind the Images” by Corey Rich. I decided it would make our photos a bit more personal and unique… We’ll see where it goes, but I think this is a good starting point.
I walked around the inside of the church and attempted a symmetrical aisle shot, but couldn’t pull it off. It honestly wasn’t that beautiful of an interior. Which is understandable, because the interior isn’t what this church is known for.
What it is known for is it’s rooftop architecture, which is accessible to the general public. But first, I’d have to go up 58 steep stairs in a narrow hallway without handrails. A sincere challenge for someone with crutches. Even the lady who sold us tickets to the roof didn’t believe in me.
But guess what? I believe in me, to the point where it’s cheesy. And that’s all that fucking matters. So I climbed those stairs like a goddamn legend with a limp.
The prize was sweet. Despite the midday lighting (the only time available to access the roof,) it was absolutely beautiful. I managed to get one photo I’m proud of a certain column, with the only cloud backdrop in sight:
“Stairway to Heaven”
Taken on Sony a7rIII + Zeiss 24-70mm f/4
[ISO 100 ~ 42mm ~ f/10 ~ 1/200s]
(Want a Print? Get one here.)
Just imagine like twenty more of those and that’s the entirely of the roof. I tried for an overview shot, but the lighting just wasn’t doing it. Blown out city. But hey, I always say it’s about the good photos you take, not the big photos you take.
I hobbled down the stone steps back to our van, and we ate a glorious meal consisting of our secret potato/bean taco recipe. And with that, we passed out. Just another day in Central America.
I’m on a mission to explore as much as humanely possible.
Want to see my progress? Check out the Adventure Map.
*Please note this page contains affiliate links.
