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People of Granada

When was the last time that a woman, after hearing sleazy comments from some guy in the street, looked at the stranger and said “wow, I am so turned on, I want you right now!”

Yep. Never.

So can anyone explain me why, in Nicaragua, guys think their salacious comments will get them anywhere?

It started right after crossing the border. And trust me, I didn’t feel the least sexy, in my usual backpacker uniform, dirty and sweaty. I climbed in the bus and heard things I won’t write down here. And I had to walk fast because guys were trying to grab me.

Not okay.

I am used to catcalls and whistle—I heard them everywhere in the world, with the notable exception of North America (where men are probably scared to be sued for sexual harassment). I have been ignoring them since I’m twelve and since I have breasts.

“Amor, amor!” Yes, this I can ignore as well. But I did find men in Granada very aggressive. A golden rule is to ignore them—which is what I am doing.

But still, it feels wrong.

You can see the com­plete set of Nicaragua on Flickr.

Schoolgirls
Schoolgirls
Baby
Baby
Hanging Out
Hanging Out
Selling Ice Cream in Front of a School Is a Sure Hit
Selling Ice Cream in Front of a School Is a Sure Hit
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Market
The Church
The Church
Street Life
Street Life
Loading a Chicken Bus
Loading a Chicken Bus

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