Nicaragua Was So Great, I Decided to Spend a Second Day There:
Early in the morning after our night in the dorm room at the Bearded Monkey, Jeff and I headed into central Granada. The central park was kind of run down looking, but the Central Market we walked through to get to the bus to Rivas was really incredible. It stretched for blocks, packed with barely room to walk between the vendors of any number of things: we passed booths selling fruits and veggies, fresh meat, live chickens, spices, soap bars, etc. I would have loved to explore more, but so early in the morning I must admit that the mixture of smells was really making my stomach churn. Garlic, freshly butchered meat sitting in the sun, dog poop, human sweat, and the decaying smell of gutter things is just not as pleasant at 9:00 am.
The most amazing thing (in my opinion) was walking through this massive central market, two obvious Americans, obviously traveling with lots of stuff (albeit not expensive stuff,) and no one even attempted to rob us. In Costa Rica, "gringoes" are fairly obvious, but if you're semi-dark skinned like me or speak Spanish as well as Jeff, sometimes it's not as obvious. In Nicaragua, however, the people are significantly darker skinned, so we stuck out like sore, pale thumbs.
The bus to Rivas was absolutely packed, with people standing up in the aisles and doubling up on seats. We boarded early, so we got some seats, but that made disembarking a little more difficult. The buses in Costa Rica sometimes get this packed, but the buses are actual line buses: in Nicaragua, they are old school buses, and running up and down the Nicaraguan roads has done a number on their shocks. I can't even imagine how one of those buses would fare on Costa Rica's terrible-quality road systems...
Once we arrived in Rivas, Jeff left the bus to smoke a cigarette, and I stayed on to guard our stuff. A young girl came onto the bus to sell something, and I apologized to her for only having Costa Rican colones. She offered to change my money for me, and actually gave me a fairly good deal (again with the good Nicaraguan people!) so I bought some of her plantain chips. Then we got into a conversation, and she asked where I was from and whatnot, if Jeff was my boyfriend, ("but why? such a cute pair!" she said), if I had a baby, if my nose ring and tattoo hurt, that I was really brave when I said they didn't, etc. Then her friends got on the bus, and I was suddenly bombarded by pre-teen Nicaraguan girls asking me if they could have my earrings, marveling at how they matched my eyes and my shirt, and squealing "Caballito!" (little horse) when they saw my little horse tattoo. Always cautious, I tried to answer their questions while keeping an eye or two on our bags, making sure an extra friend wasn't taking off with them while I was distracted: nope, the girls were all completely enthralled by this American girl, and Jeff stood by laughing at the situation.
Our tentative plan had been to catch a cab to the lake port of San Jorge, then catch the ferry across the lake and stay for 2 nights on Ometepe Island. But the bus we were on was continuing to San Juan del Sur on the Pacific coast, so we spontaneously decided to see where that led.
San Juan del Sur was a cute little beach town, where we stayed in some hotel that had super steep stairs I would not want to try going up when I was intoxicated in any way. Our room had 2 beds which we termed "the sand bed" and "the sleep bed". We filled the sand bed with sand during our midday nap after beach time, then slept soundly with the window open in the non-sand-filled bed that night. The beach was fairly littered, and the water looked dirty due to the dark sand, but the local kids (and us foreigners) were simply enjoying beach time. It was really nice to get to the beach again, since my home in the states is an ungodly 11 hours west or north of the nearest beach. Ugh. While we were sunbathing, we were semi-unaware that the tide was rising until it was right upon us. I had asked Jeff to warn me beforehand if we would be moving, since I had untied my bathing suit from wanting to get a tan on my back without lines. Predictably, the tide snuck up on us and the whole beach almost got a show of the Very White Parts of Mica while I tried to move my bag, mine and Jeff's clothes, and my shoes to the drier place where Jeff was relocating our towel. Oh geez. I would ordinarily be all for a nude beach (it's actually on my list of things to do before I die), but Nicaragua is actually more conservative than Costa Rica. And Costa Rica doesn't really acknowledge homosexuality as a lifestyle, and Catholicism is written into the Constitution. [Ahem], so no topless beaches on this trip.
Anyway, that afternoon we had some really delicious fresh ceviche, and an entire fried fish for dinner, and found some really great Nicaragua tourist T-shirts for $5: Nicaragua is far cheaper than Costa Rica. Despite the fairly good exchange rate (530 something colones to the dollar), Costa Rica is one of the most expensive Central American destinations.
For the interested traveler, San Juan del Sur has no nightlife. All the bars and even the liquor store were closed when we went walking after dinner. I left the hotel through a locked gate to see if we could re-enter with our room key, to no avail. Jeff asked some other guests how to get back in (since no one was at the front desk), and it turns out the hotel personnel had "forgotten" to give us our second key. So the nice Swedish couple loaned us theirs since they weren't leaving.
And Even a Third Day:
We caught an early bus back to Rivas, where I reunited with my little friend Amanda the Plantain Chip Vendor, whose friends were enchanted by my tattoo and earrings; then we took a taxi (after a very confusing conversation with taxistas, each one trying to tell us that that other guy doesn't actually have a taxi, he'll rip you off, etc.) to San Jorge, the port to catch the ferry to Ometepe Island in Lake Nicaragua.
On our bus ride from San José to Granada, among the multitude of topics Jeff and I discussed was pet names. I told him all the strangely named pets I've had, and on the spot decided that I would name my next dog Quincy McFatkins the Nicaraguan Doggy, and perhaps call him Nic. Or something. Anywho, I tell you this simply for the following reason: we met a dog at San Jorge, the skinniest, most malnourished dog you have ever seen. And ironically, due to my previous pledge, I named him Quincy McFatkins the Nicaraguan Doggy. After he gobbled up the soda crackers I gave him, we changed the name to Quincy McCoolkins the Nicaraguan Doggy, and apologized that we didn't have any more food to give him. Poor little guy.
The ferry was chugging across the lake (super slowly) and when it finally arrived, we climbed up to the top floor (POOP DECK!) to get the absolute best sun, breeze, and views. Logically, to reach the top deck you must climb something, but instead of stairs there was a ladder. Which I attempted to climb while wearing a dress that would not cease whipping in the wind, wearing my backpack and keeping my hair from stabbing me in the eyes with one hand, climbing with the other. For this reason I'm glad we didn't hurry onto the ferry to beat the crowds, but were instead at the back of the line. Until I started to climb, when two men appeared out of nowhere and declined when I offered for them to climb up before me, rather than stand underneath while I climbed. Perverts.
Volcán Concepción and Volcán Maderas make up Ometepe Island. It actually was two separate islands that joined from built-up volcanic material between the two peaks. They are really incredible, especially as you approach them from the lake, and every few minutes they grow a little bit bigger--or perhaps we were shrinking, the closer we got. The lake was higher than usual, so the cars that disembarked the ferry had to drive through a foot of water to reach the road, and we passengers had to cross a makeshift walkway made of sand bags. We found a taxista to take us to a hotel, (which ended up being an overpriced taxi ride and the hotel was where all the tourists from the boat ended up, at different times from different taxistas. Jeff and I are of the opinion that about 5 different taxistas are all working for this company, and only pretend to compete with each other for tourist occupancy in their cars.) Anyway, we had to get gasoline for the taxi but the electricity was out in the port-town of Moyogalpa; we finally found a gallon that the taxista siphoned into the tank. I'm always afraid when I suck on the straw that I'll get gasoline in my mouth. At least I don't smoke. Although a burnt mouth would be an excellent excuse for ice cream :)
Riding down the Ometepe roads was an interesting experience: every road side had worn-in trails trod by cows, horses, mules and oxen, several of which were walking down the road sides as we drove. We even saw some horses and cows on the soccer field, with a beautiful Volcán Concepción in the background.
After arriving at the hotel Charco Verde (I don't really recommended it) and taking a quick nappity nap, we decided to romp around on the trails the hotel staff told us existed. Well, they did not. Or rather they were covered by the unusually high lake water. Thus, we went traipsing through a swamp with our new dog friend, a cross-eyed Dalmation who I named Squishy, and who I couldn't look at without giggling. Since the trails idea failed, Jeff and I walked down the road from our hotel and I exclaimed "I wanna see monkeys, a snake, and a hippo!" On our walk up the road, we saw some magnificent volcano, sunset and mountain views, and MONKEYS in the treetops on the road side, just hanging out. Then we caught a ride to Moyogalpa to buy some rum & coke, caught a bus back to Charco Verde and walked down the driveway of our hotel in the dark. A motorcyclist pulled up behind us and (here we go with the nice Nicaraguans again,) went really slowly so we could see where we were stepping. Thank God, because I stepped over a stick that made me think "Hm, that could be a snake", then Jeff stepped on the stick that began to slither into the pasture--the picture I took shows a small snake slithering into a pasture....then the snake's body continues on the other side of a fence post and although it's about 4 feet long in the photo, you can't see its head. The men at the hotel told us it was a boa. But, no hippos. In the fields, however, there were tons of really lovely fireflies that reminded me of home in the summertime.
While I was in the shower, Jeff hung out in the hammock (Get it? Hammocks hang from the ceiling, he hung out, yuk yuk yuk) and told me he thought he felt something fall on him. Then he went to get some ice for our rum and cokes, and I relaxed in the hammock, only to find a MASSIVE spider on the floor between me and Jeff's shoes. I picked up the shoes so he wouldn't find a semi-unpleasant morning surprise, and took about a dozen pictures of our new friend, aptly named "Spidey" by Jeff. When there was a lull in the hammock and rum and coke conversation, we would both look around and wonder aloud "Hm, where's Spidey? He can't have gone far, oh look he's in the corner," or "Wow, he got to the window pretty quickly. Do you remember that time when he was just hangin out in the corner?" And with Spidey's travels on our minds, we slept.
