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Rick Steves’ Travel Blog

Here you can browse through my blog posts prior to February 2022. Currently I'm sharing my travel experiences, candid opinions, and what's on my mind solely on my Facebook page. — Rick

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Managua: Stars Shine Bright over the Big City

You could fly over Managua and almost not notice it.

Beast-of-burden men toil in Managua's market. (Photo by Trish Feaster)

Managua's abundant market.

Dining out...a special meal at the mall.

My travels in Central America twenty-some years ago during the revolutions in Nicaragua and El Salvador, and five years ago for the 25th anniversary of the assassination of Archbishop Oscar Romero, were instrumental in forming my worldview. Returning in December of 2010, I was excited to measure the changes and to see if my general sense of the dynamics of the scene was still accurate.

I didn’t anticipate such a striking sense of how things had changed with time. Even at the Managua departure gate at Houston International Airport, unexpected comparisons hit me. Boarding the plane on earlier trips, I had been struck by the mix of elites, roughnecks, and church and NGO (non-government organization) pacifists. In the 1990s, everyone seemed to be carting home cheap electronics. Now, with more prosperity and no more US embargo in Nicaragua, I saw no electronics. Maybe things were getting better down there.

But upon arrival in Managua, it was clear that the gap between rich and poor remains the context in which the story of Nicaragua is being written. The city has no front yards. Everything has been fenced, walled in, and topped with razor wire. The only people living without security are those with nothing worth stealing. As we checked into our Managua hotel, the woman at the reception desk said, with a mix of pride and sadness, “We live in a safe country. But, before going out, leave your valuables in your hotel room.”

The city of Managua has close to two million people…but I’ll bet there are fewer than 20 elevators. Its devastating 1972 earthquake left only two tall buildings of its once-impressive skyline standing. There has been some rebuilding, but the National Cathedral still stands empty and unusable on the main square, and the city is, in general, a two-story rambler. Standing where the Palace of Samoza once stood, crowning a hill overlooking the city, you see more trees than buildings, and hardly a skyline. You could fly over Managua and almost not notice it. At night, the stars are bright.

The thriving central market is filled with food: small people dwarfed by mountains of carrots, melons, coconuts, and beans. It goes on and on, with a romantic light filtering through holes in the corrugated tin roof. Beast-of-burden men lumber through the commotion of shoppers, with only gunny-sacks-of-rice heads and sweaty, dark-brown, muscular torsos showing. Shoppers here are generally from the low end ‘ guards, farm workers, and house cleaners who make $5 to $15 a day. If they buy their children a soda for a treat, the vendor pours it into a plastic bag with a straw sticking out of it, to avoid paying the bottle deposit.

For a contrast, we hike over to the modern shopping mall below the high-rise hotel. Stepping through a door with a “no-guns-allowed” decal, we find a world of people who’ve brought their kids here to spend half a day’s wages for people shopping in the other market for a photo with Santa Claus ‘ his face painted First World white. The core of the mall is a food court jammed with families enjoying a fine night out. A Happy Meal costs $5 ‘ close to what it does in the USA, but sold to locals lucky to make $15 a day. In the courtyard, kids play with skateboards, teenagers cuddle and kiss in corners, and photo boards with holes for your child’s head let parents take photos of their children posing as their favorite American superhero.

Much as things have changed ‘ former Sandinista revolutionaries now control the government ‘ it’s clear that one thing has remained tragically the same in this hemisphere’s second poorest country: the yawning gap between the haves and the have-nots. I hope to find out why.

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Nicaragua and El Salvador…Again

This year, I decided to give myself an unusual Christmas present: a trip to Latin America…not to glitzy beaches and touristy mountain resorts, but to gritty cities and slums where I can take the pulse of the people and get up-to-date on complicated socioeconomic issues. In my nine-day trip ‘ basically from Christmas Eve to New Year’s ‘ I’ll spend three days apiece in three different capitals: Managua (Nicaragua); San Salvador; and Mexico City. It takes an odd duck to choose to spend the holidays learning about Latin American politics…but, well, quack quack.

While Europe is my passion and the focus of my work, Latin America has long been an armchair fascination for me. I took my first trip to the region (both Nicaragua and El Salvador) in 1988, during El Salvador’s civil war. I returned to both countries in 1991, after the war ended. And I went back to El Salvador again in 2005. You can read my full journals from these trips too.

Those trips were focused on the hot topics of the day: The totalitarian right-wing government regimes (with ties both to the Reagan/Bush-era US governments, and to American corporate interests); the leftist rebels who fought for the people’s rights; the plucky Liberation Theology movement, which stood up against both the Catholic Church hierarchy and the regimes they supported, but troubled many observers with their rabble-rousing and their ties to the Marxist movement; and the rising tide of globalization and its impact on the crippling poverty of the region.

Checking in with former guerillas — or their orphans — is a good way to learn.

Back then, to my progressive mindset, things seemed so clear-cut: The oppressive, right-wing regimes, and their collusion with big business in the United States to exploit poor people, were evil; the leftist rebels and Liberation Theology movement, and their inspiring resistance to a morally bankrupt system, were good. It was easy to take sides. I titled one of my journals “There’s Blood on Your Banana.” By my return trip in 2005, the guerilla resistance movements had morphed into political parties, but still lacked power. The players and the dynamics seemed largely the same.

This trip will be different. Traveling with my girlfriend Trish ‘ a Spanish teacher who shares my affection for this part of the world ‘ I’m looking forward to working with local guides to get a sense of what’s been going on over the last half-decade. I suspect this trip will challenge my deeply held, admittedly one-sided convictions about the region’s politics (and the USA’s role there).

In preparing for this trip, it’s clear that things are more complicated and muddled now. As idealistic “change”-focused movements have come to power, the pragmatic need to balance complicated interests has made it harder than expected to make

those hopeful dreams of change a reality (not unlike here at home). The once overtly political churches (both those preaching Liberation Theology, and those espousing what I call “Colonial” or “Escape Theology”) seem to have faded in influence. And as globalization shrinks our world

ever more, impoverished people are finding little relief; meanwhile, those who reap the benefits of globalization (both here in the USA, and in Latin America) seem to have fallen out of touch with the

The guerilla meets the corporation — and then what happens?

more desperate fringes of society…a short-sighted detachment from reality that will likely come to haunt us. A trip to countries like Nicaragua and El Salvador makes it clear: Even if you’re motivated only by greed, if you know what’s good for you, you don’t want to be extremely wealthy in a desperately poor world. It’s not a pretty picture.

This all sounds heavy. And it is. The next several blogs will thrill and titillate Latin American politics wonks…but might bore others. My focus isn’t fun-in-the-Latin-American-sun, but really grappling with heavy issues that, in sometimes surprising ways, resonate in our own political climate today. I don’t claim to be an expert in Latin American politics, and I guarantee that I’ll wade into waters where (I admit) I know “just enough to be dangerous.” I look forward to a constructive conversation in the blogs’ comments, but I hope that we can steer clear of knee-jerk opinions, ad hominem attacks, and tit-for-tat bickering. Let’s assume we all care, but come at things from different perspectives created by differing life experiences. The world is changing, and the old “Sandinistas good, Contras bad” mindset ‘ or vice versa ‘ just don’t cover it anymore. (I have to say it can be frustrating to share political insights into complicated struggles based on real travel experiences with people who have strong opinions about a place they’ve never bothered to visit, picked up from radio or TV in the USA.)

I expect this to be a journey of discovery for me…and I’m happy to have you come along.

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Happy New Year from Mexico City

I wanted to celebrate 2011 in a memorable way (with lots of sun and no jetlag). And I wanted to kick media-generated fear in its annoying face. So, Mexico City was just right. I’ll follow this little photo essay with a series of blog entries from the rest of this journey — featuring Nicaragua and El Salvador. Thanks for joining me on a Latin American side-trip.

Flying into Mexico City, you see a metropolis with a population two-thirds the size of Canada's, stretching what seems like forever in all directions.

The streets of Mexico City's old center are a constant carnival of color and people.

With Mexico's much-publicized drug war violence, the military police seem to be everywhere, keeping the peace. They are young and all smiles, and feel appreciated by everyone.

When Columbus "discovered" America, the biggest city on earth was Tenochtitlan (today's Mexico City). With about 200,000 people and lots of canals, it looked something like this.

Mexican kids get their presents on the day the Three Kings gave their gifts to the Baby Jesus, January 6th. So in the park, they pose not with Santa — but with the Three Kings.

Because of the beloved Virgin of Guadalupe — a miraculous icon showing Mary with indigenous (rather than European) features — the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe receives more pilgrims than even St. Peter's in Rome.

The pyramids at Teotihuacán are as awe-inspiring as those in Egypt. It's hard to imagine these being built way back around 200 AD.

Mexico's National Museum of Anthropology tells the story of its many impressive pre-Colombian civilizations.

My memories of Mexico are being wished Happy New Year by people like this. (Photo by Trish Feaster)

On the streets of Mexico City you can get anything — even a good, end of the year, smoke spanking for purification. (Photo by Trish Feaster)

Mexican diners mix up potent brews to add kick to your enchilada. (Photo by Trish Feaster)

In Mexico City on New Year's Eve over 20 million just stayed home. That left plenty of people out on the happy and peaceful streets. (Photo by Trish Feaster)

And at midnight the sky's lit up. Feliz Nuevo Ano! (Photo by Trish Feaster)
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Christmas in Managua

Father Fernando Cardenal with Rick (Photo by Trish Feaster)

For Christmas Eve, I gathered with local worshipers in the humble chapel of Nicaragua’s University of Central America under hard-working fans for Mass. As the band set up and the local congregation gathered, a Downs Syndrome child picked up the mic and entertained all with a hearty Santa-like ho ho ho. That unscripted moment kicked things off with a wonderfully human reminder that people around the world are coming together.

A lanky elderly priest was greeted warmly by the congregation. He was Fernando Cardenal, one of the Sandinista priests John Paul II famously wagged his finger at during a visit to Nicaragua back in 1983 for politicizing the church. Cardenal’s trouble-making message was a Liberation Theology message ‘ that Christians are to be more than charitable. They are to ask why there is poverty and to organize to work for economic justice and dignity in the face of hunger and suffering.

The chapel was filled. It was a bring-your-own-maracas crowd, and with each song the place filled with the happy sound of these shakers. The Lord’s Prayer was sung to the tune of “Sound of Silence.” Before the offering plate was passed, a woman stepped out from her pew to remind everyone that Father Cardenal lives very modestly and to assure all that the offering would go to support the church’s work with the local poor.

My favorite thing about a Central American Mass is the fiesta-like “passing of the peace.” Every time I’m in an American church and that moment in the service comes and people solemnly shake hands, I miss the uproar that breaks out at that moment in Latin America. With mariachi energy the band plays while all attending burst into a rollicking commotion of hugging and exchange of blessings. It just goes on and on. Father Cardenal gave me the warmest of hugs. Knowing of this man’s life work as a Christian revolutionary in Central America ‘ and now holding his frail bag of bones body to mine ‘ touched me in a way that caused me to cry. I don’t know why, but it was an emotional highlight of my trip so far.

While that old Sandinista spirit is a little hard to find these days in Nicaragua, Jesus’ “preferential option for the poor” was woven into the sermon, and the Christmas Mass finished with a rousing Liberation Theology carol. People sang “Merry Christmas, justice and liberty. Merry Christmas, a better world without misery and oppression” (Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad, en justicia y libertad. Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad, un mundo mejor sin miseria ni opresion). As the song progressed through many verses, the congregation lined up to kiss the baby Jesus in Father Cardenal’s arms. The much-kissed baby Jesus was placed into the, until now, empty manger. And the worshipers dispersed into a city soon to be engulfed in a cacophony of firecrackers.

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The Magic of the Holiday Season?


A mural from the Cultural Center of Batahola Norte in Managua, Nicaragua —
a community-based education and arts project that directly serves over 2,500
impoverished children and adults each year (www.friendsofbatahola.org).

I’m hearing a lot about “the magic of the holiday season” this Christmas. But there’s a dissonance in all those ringing bells…and I’m struggling with it. The past year’s tune has been all economic crisis, all the time. Merriam-Webster even named “austerity” their 2010 Word of the Year.

Just like we managed to convince ourselves before the economic crisis that we were wealthier than we really were, I believe that over the last year, we’ve convinced ourselves that we are having tougher times than we actually are. Yes, I understand that there are lots of Americans in tough economic straits. It’s heartbreaking that, in the midst of such wealth, there is so much real and painful need. But everything is relative ‘ especially material need. And as a society, by any measure but our own, we are incredibly wealthy. America is as fat as Santa.

Giving with a generous heart is one of the joys of life. It’s the spirit of Christmas. From re-reading “The Gift of the Magi” to watching TV news spots celebrating modern-day good Samaritans, ’tis the season for heartwarming stories of gift-giving. It makes me want to go out and hug a hobo.

And yet, even as our society celebrates heroic gift-givers, we neglect to see crippling need in our midst. We can gift-give ourselves into a “magical holiday season”…but come out the other end still ignoring an unacceptable gap between rich and poor. Where’s Tiny Tim come February?

I could spend the holidays anywhere I like. And I’m giving myself a very special treat: Christmas in Nicaragua. Every time I spend Christmas in the poor world, I’m struck by a different “magic of the season.” I see that I live in an affluent society that operates with a mindset of scarcity, while ‘ strikingly ‘ the people I meet there operate with a mindset of abundance. Rather than focusing on what they don’t have, they appreciate what they do have.

While this year many American families are confronted with cutbacks for Christmas, imagine a Nicaraguan family living in corrugated tin shack next to a Managua garbage dump. Tidying their dirt floor and preparing their simple Christmas dinner of beans and rice, they sing songs together and feel blessed that their family has survived another year. Why, with all the trappings of our wealthy society, do we have more trouble counting our blessings than those who have virtually nothing?

This is not a holiday guilt trip; there are just different ways to wrap your love. For me, it’s a gift to gain empathy for people on the other side of the tracks. That’s why, today, I’m flying into a Managua Christmas. As Santa jingle-jangles across the sky, I plan to be in a “mi casa es su casa” home served by one dangling light bulb…yet filled with light and inspiration.

In the New Year, we’ll be hearing lots about “austerity.” A budget-crisis mentality will see many of the compassionate features of our society stripped away. The loss won’t dramatically affect people who can afford to travel to Europe. But for others, it’ll mean a miserly world and a much tougher life. It’s my New Year’s resolution to operate not with a mindset of scarcity (as the media will certainly encourage me to do), but to live my life and do my work with a mindset of abundance. In 2011, I’ll be mindful of how fortunate we still are in this great country. I’ll strive to keep the “spirit of Christmas” alive in a broader, societal way, beyond the immediate gift-giving that makes me feel so warm and cozy.

While I’m south of the border, I won’t be blogging. But I’ll fill you in on my adventures immediately upon my return. In the meantime, I’d love to read your examples of how holidays you’ve spent far away have given you a different take on “the magic of the season” or inspired creative New Year’s resolutions.

Merry Christmas ‘ or, as I’ll be saying, Feliz Navidad!