Wrapping up Central America

GRANADA

We set out from Camoapa full of sorrow and excitement.  We were leaving a rich community who captured our hearts and set sail for new places to deepen our immersion.  We’ve been remarking how ridiculous it is to have back to back travel experiences full of such luscious people and scenery, each with enough memories to last a life time.  We got off our bus at a busy town full of chaos and taxis, whose name I love: Tipitapa.  We jumped in a cab to head to Granada, a hot spot for tourists in Nicaragua, because we wanted the amenities and beauty after feeling deprived for 5 weeks.  Images of salads and American breakfasts danced in our heads, and our bellies were growling.  The cab ride is worth noting because it was a perfect example of a complete Nicaraguan taxi experience:  We bargain the price for the 45 min cab ride, the ride only takes 30 because he drives like a freakin maniac – at one point he passes four cars at once but finds that a rotunda was up ahead and is unable to merge back and the oncoming car is forced to the side of the road (Erin left marks on my arm for holding me so tight), he then gets some lame ticket from a traffic cop for no apparent reason after pulling out of the gas station (we visited two gas stations to fill up on the way – don’t ask, I don’t know why), he cries after getting the ticket and Erin and I feel horrible for him, he then drops us off at our hotel and quotes us for double on what we agreed on.  This was the first time in my life I’ve been able to get angry, raise my voice, and argue in another language (not well, but well enough).  We gave him some sympathy money for the ticket.  I’m very proud of the way Erin and I have been handling difficult situations with integrity.  After stepping out of the car we realize we’re in an entirely different town, and it’s beautiful!  Granada looks more Colonial and European, with tall colorful walls and many old and worn out churches.

We walked into The Bearded Monkey, a back packers hang out and hostel, where only English and other European languages can be heard.  We were a bit overwhelmed by the beauty, the abundance of computers with high-speed internet, a room for TV and free movie screenings, and a beautiful courtyard.  Our room was fairly disappointing, but we were able to upgrade to a beautiful suite where we settled in for 4 nights and reveled in our newfound amenities.  The perks of a beautiful and wealthy city, compared to other Nica cities, came with cleanliness and attention to detail unlike any where we’ve been in a while.  We still didn’t have a hot shower, but the weather was so hot the cold water was welcomed.  We went for a long walk that led us to the outskirts of the town, and it was here where we saw the real juxtaposition of wealth and poverty that this tourism feeds.

We have been so sensitive to the contrasts between everything: US vs Central America, the differences of people, rich and poor, city and town, oceans and mountains, etc.  It was hard to see the people down and out living so close to such wealth.  It felt different than Camoapa because everything felt more balanced and equal there.  Nonetheless the walk was beautiful and I couldn’t get over the beauty of the architecture, tall, stark and colorful walls jutting up between narrow streets to secretly hold amazing courtyards inside, where one can catch a glimpse through an open door when walking past.  A highlight for me was climbing an old church tower to watch the sunset over the nearby volcano and ringing the bells (I’m not sure if I was allowed, but hey, it was there so I had to do it!)

One of the richest experiences we had in Granada was studying Spanish with two amazing teachers for only 3 days.  They were both passionate about language, spoke English, and had so much to teach us.  They were the best teachers we had, and we were lucky to have em.  Before we headed off to Managua, the capitol, I bought “Historia de Nicaragua para niños y niñas” which was perfect for me to read in Spanish at my level.  So, I’ve set out with our dictionary, thank you Jamie, to improve my reading skills.  We took the bus to Managua and then a cab to hop a puddle jumper to the Corn Islands, two extremely small and beautiful islands off the Atlantic Coast of Nicaragua.

 The Corn Islands

 

Refueled with nutrients, sleep and luxuries we were prepared for a rustic life style for the next week, before heading off to South America to meet my father and step-mom.  We arrived on the bigger of the islands and took a ponga, little motor boat, to the small island.  The sea was a bit angry that day, and the boat ride (completely packed with people and luggage) was rough and exhilarating.  The swells went well over the boat, and we dipped, bobbed, and flew through the water repeatedly experiencing my stomach in my throat.  It was a blast, and we managed to not get sea sick.  Once at the small island we were led across to the other side, where there were 3 groups of small cabañas.  There are no cars on this island, so it was a 20 minute walk with our gear to our new home for 5 nights.  We ended up in a wonderful Nicaraguan owned spot called Carlitos.  We got a tiny hut, right on the beach, without a bathroom.  There’s a constant wind on the west side of the island where we were staying, so bugs weren’t much of a problem.  The rain, however, was a different story.  Our first night blew a gusty storm, although brief, where the rain came through the walls and ceiling.  We woke up to drizzle in our bed, water dripping off the light bulb, and wet baggage.  Fortunately it passed fairly quickly.  We were welcomed the next day with glorious sunshine, perfect weather, beautiful blue and clear water, and coconut trees every where.  We were in island heaven. 

 

The island was small enough to not have motorized vehicles but big enough to merit wonderous explorations.  One afternoon we followed the beach north and stumbled upon three beautiful sets of cabañas.  We were expecting bad food, but because these places were owned by an American, a Frenchman and an Italian, we ended up with delicious food.  We made reservations for each of our remaining nights and headed back through the jungle to discover the different trails that the locals have made.  Our lunches were full of fresh fish and shrimp.  We managed just fine.  The full moon timed quite nicely with our arrival and there’s nothing quite like long walks on the beach by moon light.  There is something so peaceful about islands, and the people are so relaxed.  We were in a great place to read, study Spanish, draw and just hang out.  We managed to stay fairly active too.  We decided on our second day to watch the sunset on the east side and stay for dinner at the Cuban restaurant.  The food was delicious, but the drinks were terrible.  After a misunderstanding the waitress brought two more of the same horrible drinks, which we finished out of politeness.  When we got the bill our jaws dropped.  The owner used imported Bacardi rum instead of the local Fleur de Caña rum (which is 5 times the price).  We were pissed and the owner was irresponsible and told us the mistake would come out of the waitress’s salary (who was supporting two little girls on her own).  Again, I feel proud of our handling the situation.  We told the owner what we though, said our piece to the waitress and left her with a huge tip to cover half the mistake.  Our blood boiled about the expense of the meal for a few days, but we got over it.  Lesson learned…check prices first.  At least coconuts are free here…they’re all over the island!

 

One afternoon, while swimming, a scissor bird snatched a fish, too large for it to properly hold onto, out of the water and struggled with it in the air for about 15 seconds.  Finally, unable to hold on any longer, it dropped it from about 40 feet in the air.  Our Dutch neighbor, and new friend, Jop, was nearby and caught the wounded fish.  That night was the first bird-caught dinner I had ever seen!  We walked every where, snorkeled as much as we could and met a local who took us out on a fishing trip.  His name is Dennis, and it’s worth mentioning him because he’s different than most of the locals we met.  The Corn Islands are a strange mix of black and Hispanic.  Most people speak Creole, Spanish and some English.  Dennis was the only local we met, who made a point of interacting with the tourists.  He was capitalizing on fresh people arriving every day who he could guide, get kickbacks from bringing them to cabañas, and being entrepreneurial.  He was a really fun guy, but a bit flakey.  Even though our relationship was one built around money we enjoyed what he showed us and what he had to say.  We got the sense that most of the locals aren’t interested, and perhaps a bit turned off by the amount of tourism.  I don’t blame them.  Every day they see a new flux of white people with money ready to milk their island for all that its worth.  If there’s one consistent truth every where we’ve been, it’s white people have come far from their homelands and have plumaged, extorted and taken advantage of the people and land.  We constantly find ourselves feeling caught between being white people here to experience and enjoy their culture but also are here as conscientious and compassionate people wanting to leave a positive experience for everyone.  The locals weren’t mean, they just weren’t the warm and gawking Camoapans we were used to.  Anyways, back to Dennis.  We were taken out on a mini fishing expedition with our new Dutch friend, Jop, and Dennis’s friend, Peter, who operated the boat.  It was a rough day, and we rode out pretty far to find a good fishing spot.  It was a blast.  Instead of fishing rods we had a spool of line with a piece of metal rebar and two hooks tied to the end.  When done correctly, you can feel for the fish biting the bait, yang the line, and within 30 seconds you have a fish.  In 10 minutes, peter had caught over 6 fish.  It was incredible. 

Erin and I only caught one each, but it sure was satisfying and Peter gave us all the fish…so at the end we had an enormous bucket of fish.  We all felt a bit queasy bobbing and rocking in the boat, and to our surprise Dennis was the one who got sick…and boy did he get sick.  The better part of the fishing expedition he was bent over the boat sharing his lunch with the fish.  When we arrived back home, we dropped Jop off with the fish (which he cleaned), and we were brought, by boat, to the other side of the island for a night dive with the local dive shop.  The ride was extremely thrilling, since we went around the south side, full of large swells.  The trip felt a bit rushed because we had to make the next activity.  I remember a time in my life, not long ago, where every thing I did was packed solid with no breathing room before the next activity.  Having no cell phone and time to relax is truly opening my eyes to a different life style I have been sorely needing.

  

We suited up for our dive and headed out into the inky darkness of early nightfall to find our dive site.  Just as the sky became truly too dark to see we were in the water with flash lights and all of our gear.  We submerged into an entirely different world, full of murky silhouettes of coral reefs and a universe of strange creatures whose eyes reflected the light from our flashlights.  We saw tons of lobsters and hundreds of shrimp.  It was such a surreal experience to awkwardly swim and float in the darkness with tons of tiny fish swarming the light and watching it glint off of tiny organisms floating nearby.  It was neat to see a sleeping parrotfish who protects itself with a bubble of mucous over it’s head when it sleeps.  At the very end of the dive Erin found an octopus.  It was amazing.  It kept changing colors from red and browns to yellow and greens.  What a cool animal.  The next morning we went on another diver, and this one was completely different.  The weather was good enough to head out to a hot spot for wildlife and we saw over 14 rays and 7 nurse sharks.  It was an action packed dive and it was really thrilling to finally see a shark for the first time in the wild.
 

Let’s go back to the food, shall we? 

  

After our night dive we were late for our appointment at the French place.  The locals told us not to go in the dark, as it’s easy to get lost, but we had our dinky flashlights and we were too excited for good food to miss out.  So braved the jungle at night, got a little lost after asking a local for directions who told us to just go straight only to find a dead end 30 feet later.  We eventually ended up on the beach on the west side and walked north till we found heaven in the form of crab soup, fish and sauce, and a large welcoming platter of vegetables.  We received a rude welcome from four aggressively barking dogs which scared the bejesus out of Erin.  It was an unfortunate ending to a stressful walk through the woods, where we bickered the whole way.  After dinner we had a wonderful and long walk home through the jungle to get to the familiar east side where we then took another more familiar trail back to our home on the west side of the island.  Rich food in our bellies calmed us down a bit, and stroll home was wonderfully romantic.  The following night we arrived at the north side of the island for an adventurous snorkel outing, followed by coconuts for the sunset followed by a heavy but yummy Italian meal (who had an amazing dog).

  

The following morning we packed up and set out on calmer seas for a night and a day on the Big Corn Island.  We arrived at a place that Erin had visited 2 years ago, which at this point was a bit run down.  However, it was right on the water and they had a marine park which we explored with mask, snorkel and fins.  We really noticed the impact of having a road run around the island as we now had to deal with cars.  It made us really appreciate how calm the absence of motorized vehicles is.  In fact, on the small island some of the people who have never left the island have never even seen cars.  We saw a little boy on the beach with a toy boat driving it around the sand, just like little boys drive their toys cars where we’re from.  The little island also had speed bumps for bicycles, which I tripped over in the dark, but apparently it’s needed.  Again, it’s fun to point out the contrasts.  Back to the big island.

 

Erin here, checking in.  Dave just said he doesn’t like my tea, and I am happy because I can have the rest.  I love it when Dave doesn’t like something, then I can have all of it.  Like olives.  It’s easier to share when I can just not share. 

 

Anyway, yes, the big island was a luscious swirl of adventure and tranquility.  Dave and I have become master snorkelers, realizing a long lived dream of mine.  Not only did we adventure far out into a rough ocean by ourselves, but we did it with style.  We found tiny squid swimming funnily and bright nudibranch things.  We can ID most animals and even corals we see and can tell if they are sick or damaged.  We dive deep and swim strong.  I find myself incredibly attracted to the underwater Dave…so graceful, powerful and courageous.  When I get scared he holds me and we swim together.  He makes me feel safe.  Squishy yummy give me somey.  The next day we swam a mile out into the ocean with an old, in-shape, pirate descendant named Dorsey as our guide.  It was the perfect, calm and sunny day and our destination was a shipwreck.  It was amazing and eerie to swim around this huge, broken down ship.  After being taught and teaching others to look and not touch it was shocking and pretty funny to have Dorsey smack a shark’s tail to get him to swim.  Those Nicas are so hands-on with their nature!  We got to see lots of endangered animals up close….

 

Another highlight was connecting with the locals and coconut bread.  Man, I love that hot out of the oven, fresh from the fruit yumminess.  Dave and I ended up having a wonderful morning kicking it with an island family who ran the ice cream and breakfast shop.  It was wonderful to finally connect with these people who I knew were hecka cool, but hard to access.  After that morning it was time to leave.  We got one last fresh caught fish lunch to go and hopped a tiny airplane back to Managua to spend our last night in Central America.

 

This blog is coming to you from Southern Chile in the town of Puerto Varas.  We’re with Dave’s dad, Joel, and his step-mom, Susan.  We’ll be in touch soon!