Managua, Nicaragua

My nature impels me to turn this post into something more like a jounal entry than a blog post. I will attempt to remain more anecdotal than emotional and this will be long- maybe grab a cup of coffee before you start (or even wikipedia SANDINISTAS).

We exited the hostel in Granada early to grab a mini-bus through the rain toward Managua, Nicaragua. Many travellers had already warned us of the city´s reputation. The capital´s rough aspects deter many tourists from visiting entirely. We were not to be deflected, but I would learn by experience how dangerous the city really can be.

Managua had little to see for the tourist beyond the usual cathedrals and historical monuments. Therefore we hoped to watch a few American movies at the local Cinemark while in the big city. Over breakfast I picked up the local newspaper to find the showtimes for the new Batman. My eyes scanned diligently across the pages until they paused upon an article of interest. I deciphered the conjugations of the journalistic Spanish and i read that the very day was the anniversary celebration of 29 years since the revolution of the Sandinistas (FSLN) in Nicaragua. My mind whizzed and my heart beated a little faster. Presidents Hugo Chavez (Venezuela), Manuel Zelaya (Honduras), Fernando Lugo (Paraguay), Daniel Ortega (Nicaragua), and Vice-President Esteban Lazo (Cuba) were to speak in commemoration of the historic day. I hadn´t read the paper once since my arrival, yet there I was being informed of the opportunity to see some of the prominent and influential leaders of my lifetime speak that day. I would have been watching movies instead. Some things are just meant to be.

I adorned my revolutionary garb; In actuality, it consisted of a pice of green cloth I purchased from an Army surplus store. We then walked to the plaza where the rally was to take place.

Before the rallywe had to accomplish another one of our goals for the trip; We wanted to see the gym of the Nicaraguan boxing legend Alexis Arguello (Max´s full name is Maximiliano Alexis Garcia). We caught a cab there and persuaded the generous security guard to let us fans take pictures. It was a historic moment for the Garcia family as that fighter in particular meant so much to our parents while they were growing up. Now, back to the rally.

Again, it is difficult to sufficiently convey the kinds of emotions I was feeling so I will solely present a few observations and opinions that I think are pertinent and interesting to the reader.

The capitalization of commmunism is always humorous due to it´s irony. Vendors lined an entire avenue leading up to the plaza selling food, drink, revolutionary tees, pins and bandanas. If a Cordoba could be made off of the socialist message then a booth was set up to take full advantage. Shouldn´t the Che shirts have been given away???

Okay, I can´t claim to have understood every word of the Spanish spoken but I understood a great portion. Revolutionary Speech 101 would have a rather short section on content. Invoke the names of past revolutionaries, pay homage to curent leaders who share your ideologies, recognize the natural wonders of the country as symbols of stability, praise the masses, and throw in a few ¨America is an empire¨ lines. The crowd will love you. Like bread to the Romans of the colisseum, the people will eat it up. At least they can eat words.

I´ll never watch a speech on CNN the same way again. Just days before in Rivas I had watched Hugo Chavez deliver a speech to an enormous crowd, similar t othe one in which I would find myself. I never pondered whom was in the crowd or what was occuring among the spectators. I now have the answer....

...I have never felt the way I did that day in that crowd. In the beginning the population was subdued. My anxiety rose in anticipation of the president of Venezuela´s address. That anxiety would soon change form to fear and from fear to paranoia. Alcohol was poured faster than my sweat. Students acted without awareness of physical harm to themselves or others. They formed mosh pits and created human pyramids. The fall of the sun completed the eerie setting and the environment became ripe for the infilration of thieves. My bag turned from back to front. Money was transferred from pants to bag. My smile submerged, muscles flexed, and eyes fell from the stage to the people around me. My perspective was not solely based on intuition. I witnessed an obvious tourist get bombarded as a racket of youths pickpocketsd him clean in 7 seconds. My arm began to hurt from holding my bag so tightly. Yet, I would not allow myself to leave.

I should mention that after the rain started to fall, and after two hours of waiting, Max decided to depart the scene. I respect his ability to make the right decision for himself. I was chained to my interest in the speaker so as to put my health in jeopardy. Instead, he ate ice cream and watched Batman while I pondered if I had made the correct choice in staying.

These experiences are expressed and these observations made with a full heart for the people of the U.S. and Latin America. It hurt me to listen to Chavez and other leaders speak of and celebrate freedom while thieves permeated the impoverished and hungry masses of the crowd. The rhetoric of victory and accomplishment on stage did not fit the environment below (for that matter, nor did it fit the sentiment of the people we have encountered along this journey). The red shirt, blazing fists, powerful voice and words did not intoxicate me the way I had hoped. I continue to respect the fight of the Latin American leaders I witnessed. I just hope the words come to true fruition for my brethren amongst me in the crowd.

I arrived at the rally a proud U.S. citizen and left it even more proud of my country.

Finally, I want to recognize two Nicaraguan women I befriended. They helped me to survive the night. With 6 eyes rather than 2 we all made it safely home. Again, it is as if we were meant to meet. They represent in my eyes the true essence of the Nicaraguan people.

I grabbed a taxi as quickly as possible following the termination of the spectacle and reconvened with Max back at the hotel.

Granada, Nicaragua

I´m going to begin by stating a deductible fact; Central America functions by a system of organized chaos. With that preface, I will now admit that we missed another transfer on the morning we attempted to depart for Granada, Nicaragua. The local bus dropped us off at the ferry dock literally 30 seconds after it left the island. The waves trailed behind, mocking us as I screamed obscenities aloud.


With 3 hours to spare, I updated the blog.

The bus stations here are insane - especially the ones in the pueblas. They are bustling mercados of their own. There is no differentiation of product and it seems that everyone is selling. If so, who is buying? Regardless of the economics, entering and exiing a bus is always entertaining. Once on the mainland again we caught a bus from Rivas to Granada. This bus was especially entertaining. In the rain our yellow American school bus veered around slower vehicles on the two lane highway. More than a few times oncoming traffic was ¨closer than it appeared.¨ Nascar meets inter-city transportation. Max and I laughed the entire time while the tourist couple behind us gritted their teeth.

We immediately found a gorgeous hostel, complete with hammocks, dark wooden furniture, internet, open-rooved courtyard, and a huge painted mural. A heavy rain forced us to take it easy on the first night.

Granada is a beautiful colonial town with old cathedrals and colorful buildings. The parque central is luch green and locals fill the benches all day. Tourists love Granada for its old European influence. I did enjoy the aesthetics of the town, as it was a needed change from the other cities, but I must offer that no puebla has possessed the same amount of colonial magic as San Miguel or Guanajuato in Mexico. Then again, maybe I´m biased.


We took a day trip to Masaya to visit the mercado de artesanias. It was well worth it. We purchased a few gifts for loved ones as well as some for ourselves. Most notably, we purchased a Nicaraguan flag as we plan to purchase a flage in each country that we visit. Max also picked up a few more cigars so that we can celebrate his upcoming birthday in style.

Okay, I´ll offer that we accidentally took the bus past the town initially. We hiked along the highway to our intended destination. Just a quick detour.

My favorite part of the day was throwing a football with a local Nicaraguense. I have never come across a person with an American football while travelling. I saw the kid sitting with the ball across the street and I motioned for him to toss it over. We played catch for a good ten minutes before I forced myself away. If your wondering, I still have my arm. I was oddly proud that the kid liked American football. The sight of that ball alone still evokes so many emotions in me.

The best part of the colonial towns is the food and cafes. Max and I downed a great pizza on the calzada and he found a new love - the local ice cream. For breakfast we stopped in at a cafe and ordered nearly every drink on the menu. The waitress looked at us like we were crazy when we ordered a Fanta, Coca-Cola, coffee, hot chocolate, and a banana-orange-pineapple smoothie. At the end of a complete and relaxing day we then took ample photos in front of the colored walls. In all, Granada was a great stop.

Next stop, the capital of Managua.

Isla de Ometepe, Nicaragua

One of the coolest parts of visiting Isla de Ometepe is feeding the chained monkeys just before entering the ferry. Vendors sells churros just below their tree. We took full advantage by feeding them enough food to last through the month. Seeing a monkey in the zoo is one thing, but actually handing them food is another. Although simple, it was an amazing experience.

The hour long ferry ride to the Island is relaxing and scenic. The two volvanoes that make up nearly the entirety of the island grew in size with each passing second. I have never been in a lake that felt so much like an ocean. We arrived genuinely without a plan. Our intention was to eventually take a second ferry up to granada after a nights stay. Again, our experience would not follow accordingly.

We checked into the Hotel Castillo and right away vested our swimsuits to head to the shore. The shore was not attractive. Judging by the amount of tourists people actually vacation on the island; We don´t understand it. The water is not clear, the beach is filled with pools of old rain water, and stray dogs rain rampid. In an effort to trick ourselves into believing the excursion was worth it we rented mountain bikes to view the island a bit faster. We descended to the fresh water pools after helping push a stalled car up a slight incline. (Until writing these words now i had not thought of the implication of that action ). The water pools actually translate to washing machine for the locals. Between the stench of horse manure and mud the pools were lacking in the area of attractiveness.

We returned the bikes and caught a bus to our hotel in Altagracia. I specifically asked the money collector where we were headed and I distinctly heard ¨Altagracia.¨ We did not end up in Altagracia and no more buses were running until morning. With dawn fastly approaching and in the wrong town of Merida I debated whether to practice my Spanish cuss words on the money collector or swallow my pride and figure out how we could get home.

So we began walking. I really don´t know what I was actually thinking as I knew the area was pretty much devoid of public transportation and the sun would set in less than a half hour. However, I saw a man on a motorcycle pulling a cart with two kids. I flagged him down and pleaded our case. Reluctantly, the man agreed to return and pick us up after he checked in at home. We were elated. While waiting for our savior Max proceeded to approach a cow laying next to its young. Bad Idea. The cow immediately began to ward off Max and Max immediately ran back to me.The lady owner of the heffer ran up to the cow and yelled at it in spanish. The cow immediately obliged; the scene was hysterical.

The man returned, two sons in tow, and we jumped into the carriage along with them. The ride back was gorgeous. The moto moved a slow pace due to the uneven surface of the road but it was pefect for us to take in all the sights. The sunset splashed oranges, pinks and light blues across the sky. Following a light drizzle, the longest, boldest, and most complete rainbow I have ever seen emerged to our right. If that wasn´t enough, the dark night brought out thousands of fireflies that lit up the forests as we whizzed past. I swear i´m not making this stuff up.

We arrived, finally, at our hotel. Turns out the man was a missionary from Costa Rica who had been doing God´s work in Nicaragua for 9 months. We paid and him and gave him as much gratitude as possible. Did he come along because we helped push the stalled car earlier in the day?After a long and strange afternoon we showered and fell right to sleep.

The next day we would depart for Granada.

(Note; I currently have alot of great pictures trapped on Max´s camera. As soon as I can figure out how to upload them I will update recent posts with relevant pictures.)

Rivas, Nicaragua

Rested and reinspired from watching ¨James Bond; Casino Royale¨ on TV, Max and I were up at 4am and again walking with our packs over the sidewalked beach to the bus stop. Turns out headrests are really underappreciated. I found my appreciation for them on the cramped ride to Liberia, our last hiccup before transfering to a bus to reach the Nicaraguan border.

Imagine Disneyland. Now strip away the fun, the laughter, and Mickey Mouse. Whats left? basically, the Nicaraguan border with its long lines and hysteria. Leaving Costa Rica was relatively easy. Our only dilemmas were dodging the locals who were trying to sell us the free identification forms or change our colones into cordobas. The Nicaraguan side was not near as efficient. only a little luck (it seems the last of it) would help us get by.

On the Nicaraguan side I hustled a taxi driver whose brother would drive us to Rivas. We settled on a price and he then began to do some hustling of his own. Turns out he cut a deal with a friend of his who has a border stamp that appears to be official. In order to bypass the long lines, literally consisting of 100+ people, he suggested we just use his friend. I sternly relayed the message that we had to cross officially and we queued up at the tail of the human snake. Chaos would follow.

All of a sudden three new border officials opened stations at the far end of the border area. My driver yelled at me to get in line. People began running like a scene out of ¨War of the Worlds.¨ With my travel bag on my back and backpack in hand I sprinted past the smaller Costarriceneses. My adrenaline was still pumping when I realized I was now holding a place only 5 people from the front of a new line. I had shaved 2 hours off our wait.

The pace of the puebla of Rivas was alot different than our initial welcome to Nicaragua. It is a small town that caters to travelers heading to or from Costa Rica. This place resembled Mexico more than any other place so far on our journey. When I had the opportunity to see the town I sat in the plaza and watched the kids play on bikes, skates, and swings. A beautiful pigtailed toddler in an oversized church dress sat down next to me to watch the ongoings. There is a beautiful charm to the people of Rivas. I had no idea upon arrival how thankful I would become for the local charm and hospitality.

Max got sick. After a chicken meal and some internet it hit him, and it hit him hard. The event was not without its drama, as that night a huge rainstorm hit our hotel. I slept in 2 hour intervals checking his vitals intermittently as only a good doctor would. The following day the older ladies who ran our hotel helped me to convince a restaurant owner to concoct a special chicken soup for him. The illness passed. It was a tough fight, not self-inflicted like my own, but he fought it like Ali did Frazier and he ended up knocking it out in 24 hours. We lost a day and San Juan del Sur. No big deal.

The following day we caught a ferry to Isla de Ometepe in the middle of Lake Nicaragua.