The suffocating summer heat of Managua slaps you in the face as soon as you step off the plane. At immigration, cold air is blasting from refrigerator-sized AC machines, and you pay your 10 bucks to the officer, earning you a visa to once again enter the sweat-drenched sauna you just arrived into. Outside, taxi drivers swat your luggage off your hands while pushing you into their taxis, and at your hotel, or wherever you are staying, your room will likely have a blasting AC or a fan that will prevent you from spontaneous combustion during the night. It’s only 10:00 pm, and the sun is down, but you already dread the come of dawn and the pulsating heat emanating from Managua’s concrete streets.
November 3, 2014