Merry Christmas from Granada, Nicaragua

Backpacking through some countries is an act of faith: faith in people, faith in themselves, faith in the future. Everything could happen, as safety is a word almost non-existant. I crossed El Salvador and Honduras with a night just-for-locals bus, which means squeezed like an animal on the hardest and most unconfortable seat ever. Next to me there was a guy from Nicaragua keeping me informed on his drinking status at every border: "First bottle of rum gone, second one ready to go!". The bus had two long stops for pinched tires. The capital of Nicaragua, Managua, is completely different to Guatemala, as the houses are low and dusty and messy and it really looks like a middle east city with horses used for transportation and an incredible poverty rate. As soon as I arrived in Granada, the colonial gem of Nicaragua, I understood I shifted to the caribbean area when a prostitute moved to me, officialy to offer a 2 hours massage for 5 dollars, in reality asking continously to keep my bags to help me... maybe trying to rip me off? Curse of the first day? Don't know, I only know that the city is colorful, warm, happy and I'm far thousand miles from home or any other place to remind me that today is Christmas.
Stories are gifts to share: stories are the only gifts I can give you for this year.
Merry Christmas to anyone.