Nicaraguan Adventures

We were in Granada last time we conversed, separated from Travis and Angela and reduced to a group of five after Angela came down with some terrible strange sickness.

Now we have reunited and are seven again. Turns out Angela had an ear infection, which is why she felt like shit the morning we left from Utila. This problem was probably connected to her problem with equalizing her ears. With the air trapped in her ear cavities, all the little bacteria were free to multiply. Now she has medication and cotton swabs to slow the murky secretions from her left ear.

Estranged from Trangela (short for Travis and Angela), we spent the night in the Kalala Lodge then met Trangela in their hostel, The Oasis, at 9 in the morning. We quickly realized their hostel kicked our hostel’s ass.

While our hostel had thin mattresses on top of wooden boards, leading to a princess-and-the-pea like situation except there was only one mattress and no pea, but a whole fucking lot of pain and discomfort, The Oasis on the other hand not only had respectable mattresses but free Internet access, colonial charm, murals and hammocks.

Check out this mural that was at our hostel, The Oasis.

After eating breakfast together, we decided to abandon the Kalala Lodge and move over to The Oasis since it was so completely superior. While we could have spent the rest of the day exploring Granada, we succumbed to the free Internet access and spent much of the day on Facebook and catching up on some good old perusing superfluous Web site time.

We stumbled upon murals and sayings painted on the walls.  Nicaraguans love them some poetry.

Eventually we realized we hadn’t eaten lunch and it was about 3 p.m. so we hungrily ventured out of our hostel and went to a pizzeria for a little snack. We split a large pizza and then walked towards the beach, snapping loads of photographs on the way like the good tourists we are.

What an epic colonial church.

At the beach we encountered a charmingly persistent little old ice cream salesmen. His gimmick was to yell “Beep, beep!” as he aimed his ice cream wagon at his potential customers. We couldn’t help but buy a moderately priced frozen treat from a peddler with such personality, such chutzpah.

For dinner that night we decided to eat at a Mexican restaurant on a street the locals called “Gringo Street.” Choosing to sit outside, we were treated to entertainment from a troupe of young breakdancers (you know they spin on their heads and do back flips and the like). The biggest crowd pleaser of all was smallest boy of all, an acrobatic little guy who couldn’t have been more than nine years old.

The following day we left Granada on a chicken bus and headed to Rivas. In Rivas we caught a ride to San Jorge, the town from which the ferries to Ometepe leave. We arrived with a little extra time so we ate lunch at a little diner and then walked down a long path along the beach to the dock where the ferry left. We had to pay a 10 Cordoba tourist fee at a gate and then a lady asked us to take medical form possibly a Swine Flu prevention measure. Four of the group had already passed through but Mike, Shannon and I reached the final gate right at 2:30 p.m. when the ferry was scheduled to leave and the guard, rather than letting us pass through and hustle to catch the ferry, closed the gate in our faces and locked it. We pleaded with him but he said he was just following orders. So the three of us had to wait around until 4 p.m. when the next boat left.

We reached the island of Ometepe at 5 p.m. and Angela was waited with a cab to take us to the hotel they had selected, the Finca Valencia. We drove half and hour across the island and found our picturesque hotel on a dark volcanic sand beach. We were all staying in a quaint cottage.

What a big friendly tree. 

We ate at the hotel that night since we were more or less in the middle of nowhere and bummed around the hotel afterward.

The next day we went swimming in the fresh waters of Lake Nicaragua the largest lake in Central America. In the afternoon we took a walk through a nature reserve near out hotel. We saw swarms of little baby frogs, armies of ants, lizards and colonies of birds, who loved the lofty trees on the cliffs overlooking the expansive lake well stocked with fish to eat.

Look how many birds were in this just one tree.

We ate a competing hotel down the beach that night and used a luxury they had but we lacked at our hotel: Internet.

The next morning we packed up and headed back to San Jorge on the ferry. We had planned out exactly how we would get to our next destination, the beach at San Juan del Sur, but as usual several pushy cab drivers offered us their services. We tried to act disinterested to get them to lower their prices and we walked around looking for deals. Near the exit gate, a cab driver in a red cap offer us the best deal we had heard yet 230 Córdobas ($11.50). This upset the cab drivers we had been talking to earlier who had dropped the fare for each of their taxis to 240 Córdobas. The stockier of the two started yelling at this wily driver and next thing we knew he was throwing punches. We were a bit shocked, but decided hey I guess we will pay the 240. They later explained that this rival cabbie was a pirate who wasn’t certified and wasn’t part of their collective. He didn’t pay taxes and couldn’t be trusted, they explained. I ended up with the stocky enforcer taxi driver’s laidback sidekick. We played Dr. Dre, 50 Cent, Reggae and other gringo pleasers and also took photographs of Shannon on his cell phone while he was driving.

Regardless, we got us to San Juan del Sur where we had a bit of trouble finding a hostel with room for seven, but they eventually squeezed us in the Casa Oro, a hostel well known among surfers and backpackers. We settled in and headed to the beach that afternoon to swim, play frizbee and take in some sun. For dinner we took advantage of our hostel’s kitchen and made Mac and cheese.

We played Frizbee into the sunset.

We drank beer and played Monopoly that night. Mike and I were a team that seemed destined for success, but we made some ill advised, essentially suicidal trades after becoming frustrated that the more proactive trades we were proposing were unceremoniously shot down—not to mention our slow realization that Monopoly is a dull game.

After the game, we went for a walk on the beach. We heard a discoteca pumping some music and some decided to enter, but the bouncer denied me for lacking a shirt. It’s so warm here though wearing shirts seem unwarranted.

Today we left at 11:30 a.m. for a surfing trip to Remanso beach. We packed our rented boards on top of the big truck and took a twenty-minute ride to the quiet little beach.

We decided not to pay for lessons, but in turns out that learning how to get up on a surfboard isn’t all that difficult and we all succeeded to get up without official instruction. The beginner friendly waves at the beach certainly helped us. We didn’t learn how do much of anything but go in a straight line on our long boards but we had fun doing just that. At sunset we packed up the truck again and headed back to the hostel.

We were still learning and didn't nail every wave as you can see here.

I cooked dinner for myself and have been spending a quiet night of all things blogging. Tomorrow it’s onto Costa Rica.