Solentiname Archipelago trip

The dawn chorus of roosters and other assorted birds woke me up at 5:50am, long before my planned alarm setting.

  A cool shower eliminated any risk of me drifting back to sleep. Coffee was being served by the time I found my way to the dining area and joined the other guests, awaiting breakfast. By 8:30 we were heading roughly west away from San Carlos in an open boat with a canopy to protect from sun and rain. The planned itinerary was a tour of he Solentiname archipelago. 32 islands in total and located at the southern end of Lake Cocibolca, it is a treasure that most tourists never see.

  Our first stop, Zapote Island is home to several thousand birds and we were observing them during mating season. Vultures, ospreys, spoonbills, ibis, egrets, cormorants, blue herons and umpteen other species who’s names I don’t know, circled and landed, occasionally diving to the water surface to pick up a little sushi for lunch. Many were clearly paired with one parent carefully guarding a nest while the other searched for food. While we slowly circumnavigated the island, a couple of our group amused themselves by fishing. A successful cast landed a sizeable fish that would later provide a portion of our lunch.

  Leaving Zapote we headed north towards the main islands of the system, Mancarron and  San Fernando. On the way we made a stop at a small island where our guides had planned for lunch at a small farmhouse . A few family dogs as well as some roosters, 2 geese and a brood of baby chicks welcomed our arrival. While the rest of our group ran to el baño or just relaxed outside the house, I joined one of our tour guides on a trek through the home owners “Back 40!” Tiptoeing through a field of freshly laid cow pies we entered a small grove of banana and plantain plants. Mixed in with these were, coffee bushes, avocado trees, cocoa trees, orange and grapefruit and in the adjacent field some rice plants, bundled and left to dry.

 Heading back to the house, Mino selected a long straight tree branch and proceeded to hook several oranges out of the tree that we would later have with our lunch.

 Obviously very adept at supporting themselves, the family had an enclosure at the edge of the lake, which acted as a holding tank for any fish they caught, Still swimming up until the fry pan was starting to sizzle, one couldn’t expect anything fresher. As a result our lunch of fried fish and rice was absolutely out of this world,

  Returning to the boat we continued our journey. To the southwest the mountains of northern Costa Rica appeared as a ghostly white image on the horizon.

  Mancarron, the biggest of the islands was our first stop. The church, normally a key focal point of the island was under major reconstruction due to structural damage. Luckily the sidewalls, altar and back wall were intact, allowing us to see the colourful children’s artwork that decorated them.

  A walk through the village proper allowed us to see the homes of several artists who worked with balsa wood to produce a variety of colourful carvings, mostly birds and fish.

 Returning to the boat we travelled a short distance east to the island of San Fernando (also called Elvis Chavaria after a native teen who was killed during the Sandanista/Contra conflict.)  Here were more wooden carvings as well as some primitive but very colourful oil paintings-street scenes and landscapes of the area. A hike up the hill to a small museum provided some spectacular view of a few of the smaller islands, which make up the archipelago.

  The ride back to San Carlos was a bit of a butt buster for me, Seated at the front of the boat with a life jacket for some limited padding, the boat frequently bumped against the waves as we returned one a south-easterly direction, almost directly into the wind. With he exception of the ride back it was a perfect way to spend the day. The islands themselves were a spectacular gift of nature and the chance to catch a brief glimpse of the artists, their homes and their work made it all the more worthwhile.

 By the time we returned to the lodge the sun was just beginning to set. After snapping a few quick photographs I joined the rest of the guests and the owner for a lengthy coffee break/cocktail hour while his staff prepared a barely passable chow mien for supper

(which they called chop suey for some reason) The mediocre and rather later supper was cause for concern, as was the fact that my room had not been touched since I left in the morning. Twice daily bathroom paper removal is a given in this part of the world and it hadn’t been done once during my entire two day stay.

  A planned early night in bed was ultimately postponed when I found myself downloading editing and deleting some of the photos I had taken during the trip. Birds in flight at high speed are not the easiest thing to shoot but I managed to capture a few dozen shots that wont get me into National Geographic but will serve as a reminder of what you miss when you get stuck at a 5 star all inclusive that you never leave.

La Esquina- a little corner of? maybe paradise but not quite

5PM- La Esquina del Lago (The corner of the lake)

   A gentle rain has just freshened the air and the smell of pork chops frying is making me feel hungry. It is not for me however, but rather for a group of Canadians who just arrived at the lodge.

  The place is a collection of 5 hotels rooms, a common lounge, an outside dining area and kitchen and a boat dock, all on piles at the edge of a mangrove swamp. Situated at the edge of a nature reserve it fronts onto the Rio Frio and looks across at the junction of Rio San Juan and Lago Cocibolca. The rooms are all screened with windows that can be folded back, like shutters. There is also no TV or internet, no air conditioning and no ceiling fans. A mosquito net dangles from the ceiling but staff tells me I wont need it.

 I arrived here by launch shortly before 11am and spent the better part of the day just relaxing and admiring the scenery.

  After a decent lunch of chicken, spaghetti and salad with fresh papaya juice to drink, I went out onto the river with one of the staff. We paddled upstream on the Frio for a good hour, stopping to take pictures of birds, monkeys, orchids and just general scenery. We even ventured off the river at some points, ploughing through the mangroves to get a closer look at some of the wildlife. To say that it was an amazing experience would be an understatement. The highlight of the trip was watching a group of about 12 spider monkeys moving in sequence from one tree to the next using the same dangling set of vines. It took about 5 minutes for them to complete the manoeuvre, some of the younger ones needing some coaxing before they made the crossing.

  At one point the sky opened up with a massive downpour so we simply paddled under the cover of a sizeable tree and a cluster of tall bamboo and waited for the rain to quit.

  Twice more on the way back we caught some shorter downbursts but just covered up the camera and kept going.

 Relaxing on the deck while I type this, the only connection with the outside world is the low rumble of the occasional outboard motor followed by the bounce of the wake slapping the underside of the decking. The gentle buzz of conversation and the chirping of birds provide some background music.

  Over the lake birds seem to arc and dive as they search for something for dinner.

 With the sun about to set, they seem somewhat hyperactive, a brief burst of energy before they settle for the night.

8pm The darkness around us is only broken by the lights from San Carlos reflecting off the river. Due to the number of guests the generators have been fired up to give some support to the solar system. Sadly this hampers the sounds of nature trying to break through, so hopefully it will be turned off soon.

 In the darkness frequent flashes of movement indicate that bats are taking care of some of the local mosquito population.

 

San Carlos- the next morning- Wednesday

While I made a few light-hearted comments about my dumpy $15 a night dive In San Carlos, a quick walk around town opened my eyes. Almost every single dwelling that I was able to look into was in far worse shape than my own humble abode. Cracked walls, leaky roofs, no water, no fridge, a few pieces of broken furniture.

 Add to that- rice and beans- 3 meals a day, supplemented by corn- usually tortillas, with maybe a bit of meat or dish 2 or 3 times a week.

 San Carlos would, in most peoples terminology, be described as a shithole.- a one horse town where even the horse said “Screw it, I am Out of Here!” A collection of small, broken down tiendas, selling the same stuff as everyone else in town. Not even a Pali to provide some selection.

What life must be like for someone who lives his or her entire life in this place? I am counting down from 24hrs and hoping I am out of here before I get to 21 i.e. noon!

  Like Antigua, Guatemala, Granada is to the rest of  Nicaragua as Vancouver is to Kenora!

[Two American women on the airport shuttle today were discussing their “”experiences” in Nicaragua after a “whole week” in mostly Granada and I seriously wanted to slap them back to reality]

 A snipit of their conversation.  Lady A: What do you do for a living?

           Lady B: I am a writer. Lady A: what do you write?

           Lady B: Books and articles. Lady A: what kind of books?

            Lady B: My last was an autobiography. Lady A: Who did you write it about?

   Me (under my breath!) : the human race is DOOOOOOMED!!!!!!!!!!

            Lady A: I find all the people here really nice and honest

            LADY B: well one of the people at my hotel tried to short-change me!

    Me( under my breath) One effing week and they are all experts!

Wed 26^th. It is 9 am and I survived a night of rather fitful sleeping. The power went out at 6 and has been off since. I had breakfast at 7 at the bus station- 2 fried eggs, a slice of Frankenham-( looks like bologna tastes like inner tube) and a cup of Nescafe. Can you believe it, you can almost throw a rock at the Costa Rica border and they are serving instant.

  Walking along the Malecon, I noticed a small island that I hadn’t seen before. Upon taking a second glance, I realized it was a large cluster of birds floating about ¼ mile off shore. Over a period of several minutes the island increased in size as more birds settled in. Suddenly, triggered by some unseen or unheard signal the birds began to rise in the air with equal numbers flying southeast towards the Rio San Juan while the remainder flew in the opposite direction towards the lake.

 Now I am just killing time till I can grab the launch over to La Esquina de Lago for 2 days of jungle boredom.

San Carlos- Day one -Tuesday 25th

Its almost 5pm- time for tea and crumpets down in the hotel’s parlour.   NOT!!!!!!!!!!!

  With only about 20 available rooms in the whole town- not including the ones that rent by the hour, I was left rather few choices when I got to town so I chose the one place recommended in the guide book. Clearly, regular running water is an issue in much of this town as my bathroom has a 40-gallon rain barrel and pail in the bathroom for flushing the toilet. That is going to make showering a tad difficult since it takes up most of the shower stall. I think the place has the same 100-year-old floorboards that were here when the hotel was probably a horse barn. I can’t tell if the walls are dirty or if it just the adobe that is wet under the paint- a tasteful shade of Mennonite barn green.

   The sheets on the bed look clean, but I am not taking any chances, so out will come my silk sleeping bag liner for the first time this year- at least the fan works!

  Backtracking- the twin turbo prop at the airport was just a tease- we flew in a single engine Cessna with 12 seats. I was the only “gringo” on the plane. While I sat, jaw open amazed the whole way, as we flew over Laguna Apoyo, Laguna Masaya, Omotepe Island and the Solentiname islands everyone else was sawing logs or reading the paper. All except the guy in the next seat over. Ever time I tried to snap a shot of a significant landmark he would start talking with his hands- so most of my scenic shots are fingers in front of an airplane window!!

  The landing itself was somewhat scary [gravel runway!] The terminal was about the size of my garage. They wouldn’t let us claim our bags until the plane took off again, and we had registered our ID with the local police.

  The taxi ride to town- a whole dollars worth- took about 5 minutes and I asked to be dropped off by the central square after seeing all the highlights of town, which included [pay attention-it’s a long list!] the bus station, the market and the central square.

  After my grand tour of my palatial accommodations, I forked over 300 cordoba- about $14.25 and set off in search of the local opera house and museum.- yeah, right!

  Walking along the Malecon, I quickly found out that I must have been the first gringo of the day as they began practising their Spanglish –“Yo, Mi amigo, my fren, jo got som spire chynge fuer me.”

  “ No puedo escuchar” ( I cant hear) seems to work best- especially with a hand cupped to the ear. I usually don’t get bothered after that.

  Heading over to the municipal harbour I ran into 2 guys and a girl from Toronto who were frantically trying to figure out a plan B. Their plan A was a boat trip to San Carlos from Los Chiles in Costa Rica to catch the ferry to Omotepe. Only problem was that it was 3pm and the ferry left at 2 and the next one leaves Friday! I gave them a rundown on local hotels plus the address of the lodge where I am booked tomorrow and left them to survive on their own.

 Somehow I don’t think they were contestants from Survivor Nicaragua.

 [With the clock rolling on for 5:20 it is probably time to put this blog to bed for a couple of hours and go check out the sunset views from the Malecon- supposedly one of the few PLUS , PLUS attractions that this dusty dump of a derelict dockyard has to offer.]

8pm

 The sunset were exceedingly average- a golf ball looking a bit red in colour disappeared behind a distant island and the sky turned a slight burnt orange colour for a minute or two- THE END!!!!!! Actually, it was a bit better than that, but having seen and photographed I don’t know how many hundred, it takes a bit more than that too get me excited.

As I was walking along in the evening dusk, I noticed a couple of older teens following at a distance, the same two teens that had tried to panhandle me early. Picking up a nice jagged half-pound rock, I slipped it into my pocket- just in case!

Luckily the night passed uneventfully.

 I had supper at a restaurant bar called Kaoma that overlooks the waterfront. I ordered a local fish called wapote and settled back to check my e-mail (they actually had free wireless) while the river and lake faded to blackness as night descended.

  The fish, grilled whole, arrived covered in a somewhat sweet sauce laden with onions, green and red peppers, carrot sticks and braised tomatoes. Like a giant stickleback it was delicious, but more bones than meat. Like lobster and crab it was more of a job for fingers than fork so I was relieved when they brought me a finger bowl (soup bowl to be exact) with warm water and orange sections to eliminate any fish odour. As with all properly cooked fresh fish the odour was negligible but the extra service was appreciated anyway.

  Returning to my room and comfortable in the fact that it wasn’t going to get broken into, I left my computer, cameras and cash and enjoyed a rather cool but pleasant walk though the main parts of town. The police seem to maintain a fairly heavy presence around here-probably due to the proximity of the Costa Rican border so I wasn’t too concerned-PLUS, I had my rock!!

  Now I just have to put aside thoughts of bedbugs, centipedes, scorpions and furniture moving cockroaches and I should be fine. [I once had a cockroach crawl up my pyjama leg when I lived in Curacao some 35 years ago I still haven’t quite gotten over it]

Not Dead

In case anybody has been wondering- no internet means no blog- been off the grid and off the map for a week= stay tuned for future updates

Sunday through tuesday morning

After an early wakeup call, thanks to the racket created by the vet volunteers, I spent the better part of the morning doing laundry. Since they had inhaled most of the continental breakfast before I got up. I set out on a quest for a real breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast.

  Sunday afternoon I found myself nursing a queasy stomach after risking a breakfast at Kathy’s Waffle House.

  Mostly frequented by ex-pats, this place serves up piping hot mugs of coffee geared more to the USA than the local market- i.e. it has very little taste. Half an hour after breakfast, I remembered why I only ate here once on my last trip!!

 A trip to the market got me a $10 replacement for the backpack that was stolen; and lunch, once I could face it, was leftover salad and a half a panini (so I guess that would be a pani!!) from last nights takeout.

 Once I started feeling better I spent the afternoon walking through the downtown core catching some of the Kodak Moments that had previously eluded me.

 Supper tonight was a spectacular buffet at Jimmy Three Fingers. Fried turkey, barbecued ribs, Jambalaya, cooked veggies, various salads, black-eyed peas and more- total price $15 including tax tip and drinks. BEST jambalaya I have ever eaten-PERIOD!

  I have a feeling that a few of the restaurants in town are trying to identify Jed Leonard so that the can put out a contract on me! Some of my Tripadvisor ratings have been a little less than kind.

 With a little over 36 hours in the relative civilization of  Granada I am getting a little nervous of the redness surrounding one of the more significant “road rash” gouges  on my knee. I am thinking that a week of Keflex 500mg might be in order, especially considering the environment that I am about to enter.

  Monday came and went with little to show for the effort except some shots of the sunset from the tower at La Merced church.

  Just for the heck of it I decided to sample dinner at El Zaguan, supposedly the best place for steak in town. The steak was average, the service sucked and the prices were too high considering the pathetic accompaniments that arrived with it- ½ cup of rice, small salad and two slices of fried potato and a lukewarm piece of fried banada -my rating should , hopefully knock them down a notch or two on tripadvisor.com

  Tuesday ,with time to kill till check in I have a decent free wireless signal at the airport and can continue blogging till it gets closer to flight time.

 The flight itself is all of 45 minutes, getting to San Carlos at 2:15pm

  With no hotel booked so far for tonight, I will scope out a few once I land. The decision will be based on having or not having hot water and having bugs small enough that they wont move my things while I am sleeping!

 The process of getting my luggage checked was expedited on account of my walking pole and my limp. I think the entire process including security took less than 5 minutes. Initially ahead of me and then bumped to the back of the line were two women with Canadian passports ( but speaking Spanish) who were trying to board the plane with tickets for yesterdays flight!! They must have straightened things out since they did make it through security 15 minutes after me.

  The plane parked outside is a twin engine 12-seater turboprop. It does have numbers on the side so I guess it is registered somewhere. La Costeña is Nicaragua’s one and only domestic carrier and has a couple of dozen flights a day to various points in the country. None of the trips take more than an hour- a treat when one considers the ass pounding alternative of 8 hours on a chicken bus or a 14 hour pukefest on the ferry. For $72 I am definitely not complaining. You’d pay that for lunch, a magazine and a days parking at Toronto airport.

Sheepish tourists and middle-aged junkies!!

I seem to have developed a pattern over the last week or so which requires me to plan an activity every second day and to do as little as possible on the alternating days.

 Another lazy day has come and almost gone.

  After my usual light breakfast of fresh fruit, coffee and somewhat dry raisin bread I set off in search of a barber to trim my scruffy looking beard. Half an hour and $2.50 later, I was in the central square watching as a large flock of tourists were herded into the Cathedral. Behind them a straggle of ceramics vendors and artistes followed in the hopes of making a sale. Outside of the Hotel Dario a small group that had been separated from the rest of the herd were negotiating the purchase of an oil on canvas that might have been kindly called “primitive” No doubt it is destined to hang in the dark corner of someone’s rec. room accompanied by an oft. told story about “ how we bargained the guy down to almost nothing”

 By 7pm tonight a few stragglers were still wandering around aimlessly, perhaps looking for last minute souvenirs or maybe a bathroom before the bumpy ride back to San Juan del Sur. [where the cruise ships dock]

 Tired of eating on the strip, I stopped in at Nuestro Mundo on the southeast corner of the park. The place was unusually busy due to a special promotion. Outside on the patio they were offering an all-inclusive fritanga (street grill) for $3.00 a plate. Included in the price was a choice of meat, fried bananas, rice and beans and tostones. While it smelled quite delicious, a quick glance showed that the meat was being cremated rather than grilled. [Fritanga is more of an art than a science- best left to the street vendors who do it on a permanent basis- as opposed to a restaurant doing it as a loss leader]

 Opting not to risk my life for $3, I settled instead on a Nica style Nasi Goreng. That is an Indonesian dish featuring fried rice, a skewer of meat- typically pork or chicken, served with peanut sauce and topped with a fried egg.

 Nuestro Mundo is a perfect place to “people watch” offering a great view of both the Cathedral and the central square. While I waited for my meal to arrive, a gang of marauding “musicians” (guitar, accordion, maracas and vocals) showed up to torture a captive audience of diners. A couple of semi-drunk males seated at one table were encouraging them, snapping photos and singing along. As they collected tips and drifted off to the next restaurant my food arrived. On a scale of 1 to 10, I gave it a 5.5 for effort and presentation but I might have to e-mail the cook my recipe for peanut sauce- Point # 1- it needs peanuts!!

  Heading back to the hotel, I stopped for half an hour to enjoy a free concert of Nica folk music that was being presented at Casa de los Tres Mundos –a large old colonial house near the central square that promotes art and culture. A mostly local crowd of several hundred people was watching the show.

  Further along on my travels back to the hotel I was stopped by an American tourist who had just arrived from Costa Rica. Turns out he was looking for hookers and a supply of either weed or coke- how did he know I was a pharmacist?!

  Since he was at least as old as me, I was somewhat stunned by his requests. He was also totally clueless about where he was and referred to Managua as “some big city a bit north of here” [Didn’t even know what it was called] Changing the subject, I recommended a couple of restaurants and some sightseeing activities around town and bade him a (hopefully) last farewell.   Only 4 more days till I “blow this popsicle stand” and head for Rio San Juan. Can’t hardly wait!

Festival of San Sebastian- Diriamba

This morning I woke to the single ping of my palm pilot’s alarm, signalling 7am

 With my pain level much improved over yesterday, I ate a quick breakfast then headed out to catch the bus to Jinotepe.

 Arriving there shortly after 9:30 I didn’t have to wait too long for my next connection. An “interlocale” [local mini-bus] had me into Diriamba in time to hear the church bells peeling out the call for a 10am service. In front of the church a couple of dozen vendors were starting to cook up food for lunch while others were selling various sweets and some large and very crispy pieces of pork crackling.

 Today, Jan 20^th marks the Festival of San Sebastian. According to local tradition, the icons of San Sebastian, San Marcos and San Santiago travelled together from Spain and as such there is a special bond between them. They are brought together from their respective villages- Diriamba, San Marcos and Jinotepe during a processional on January 19^th. A night of dancing fireworks and partying ensues and the icons are installed at the front of the church in Diriamba to await the Dia del Santo.

  I entered the church just as the Mass was starting and managed a couple of photos of the tres amigos! Squeezing out through the crush of people entering the church, I spent the next 2 hours waiting for the festivities to begin. By noon the crowd in the square had grown to several thousand. Adding to that, groups of performers began to arrive.

 Dressed in tall hats of peacock feathers and wearing masks and very colourful costumes they began to do a variety of dances that have their origins as far back as the original Spanish occupation. Other groups wearing less outlandish costumes performed more contemporary dances to the sound of drums, tambourine and marimba.

  With the clock rolling well past 12, the mass was showing no signs of ending. At the back and sides of the church, a significant police presence was starting to make itself visible. Approaching one of their number I was waived back and told to get away from the church fence. It was then that I noticed that the entire building was ringed with two strings of blasting cord, attached to which was a small wad of explosive every 2 feet.

  Barely a minute later the Church bells began to peel as if the Second Coming had been announced. Rushing back to the front of the church, I squeezed my way up to the top of the stairs in time to see the icon of San Marcos being carried out of the church on a wooden litter. Once the icon bearers had lowered the satue to the ground the crowd broke into applause and many rushed forward to touch or kiss the statue. Several minutes later the procedure was repeated and San Santiago appeared to the crowd.

 With confetti drifting all over the church entrance and helium balloons filling the sky, San Sebastian made his exit from the church. More touching, praying and photo ops. followed as this rather effeminate statue was placed between his two associates. At some unknown signal the bearers picked up the icons and carried them to the roadway in front of the church. Ahead of them, the variously costumed dancers had already commenced travelling along the processional route. Hardly had the Saints travelled twenty feet when the explosions began. For close to 5 minutes the area around the church sounded like the final scene from Butch Cassidy. Smoke filled the air and you could, literally, taste the explosives.

  I followed the procession for a block or two, by which time many of the costumed performers were beginning to drift off the parade route to visit with friends and family or maybe grab a cold beer or a bite to eat. A local resident informed me that things would die off for a few hours but would pick up again as dusk approached. Thanking him for the information, I opted for a trip back to Granada rather than run the risk of being stuck in Diriamba, where I was sure that all the hotels were already full.

first a swim, then a mugging!!!

After breakfast this morning I set off my bike for a swim at Laguna Apoyo. A rather rough road –mud sand and rocks took a good 40 minutes to negotiate. The bike map suggested 20 but neglected to add (if your name is Lance Armstrong. The fact that it was mostly uphill didn’t help either. Parking my bike with a couple of security people I hiked down what is described as a cow-path for about 20 minutes before arriving at the lake. I enjoyed a 15-minute swim which was interrupted by the arrival of a very horny visitor who was in need of a drink. Not wishing to get in the way of a thirsty steer, I grabbed my things and made a fast retreat up the hill, only to find 20 or 30 more on their way down. Parking myself behind a tree, I waited until they and the men driving them had gone past before I continued up the hill.

   Still wet from my swim, I left my swimming shorts on and stuffed my towel and other gear into my backpack before returning to pick up my bike. With the route being mostly downhill I was travelling at a decent speed with about a km. to go to reach town. Suddenly I found two men wearing masks and carrying machetes were rushing out of the bush to block my path. Within seconds the bike was down and I was rolling across the roadbed, scraping off skin as I went. Holding me down they tore off my backpack, ripped the pocket out of my swimsuit that was holding the camera and raced back into the bush.

  Sore, shook up and bleeding from my arm and leg I wasted no time in jumping back on the bike and rushing back to the hotel. Taking inventory of my losses, I was missing my backpack, shorts, towel, hotel key, 3 imitrex tablets, 2 sleeves of antihistamines, about $30, my drivers license, my smaller ((point and shoot) digital camera and my notebook.

  Most annoying was the loss of two days worth of great photos and video, plus 3 weeks of journal entry about the trip that I was planning to turn into travel articles at some point.

 Amelia, one of the hotel staff got me all cleaned up and drowned most of my shredded skin with proviodine. Lucy the hotel owner was extremely helpful and very sympathetic, but, as I already knew, told me filing a police report would be a waste of time.

  Paul, from the restaurant up the street offered to have a friend drive me back to see if anything e.g. my notebook or clothing had been dumped by the side of the road, but I just decided to call it a “life experience” and move on. Hindsight is a wonderful thing and a couple of seconds here and there can make a whole lot of difference in how stuff happens

  As I sit typing this up, my right leg feels like it has been soaked in acid. But what burns even more is the fact that I had taken some amazing photos of myself swimming in the lake, plus some really crazy video of the cattle stampeding down to the water.

  But what the heck- I could have been bleeding to death from a machete wound in the middle of nowhere.  

            Now I have a “You think you had a shitty day! Let me tell you about………”

Mangua-squatter camps and suburban malls

Crossing streets in Managua is an art form and is not without risk. Somewhat less risky than swimming with cinder blocks in your pockets, it does, nevertheless, require a considerable amount of nerve and skill. Before trying it for yourself, I would suggest trying something slightly tamer, such as the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona.

 While it does have a reputation of being dangerous, I have been less concerned for my safety there than on some of the backstreets of Granada.

   Today, I had my first taste of “real” Chinese food since I arrived in the country. A hot and sour soup followed by a tofu and vegetable dish made me realize just how great the food is in Toronto. While the restaurant itself was recommended and the food “decent” I think I will wait till I get home for my next Comida China.

 My main purpose for today’s trip was to see the museum at the Palatio National. [It was closed on my last visit]  One of the staff gave me a guided tour, in passable English, of the various exhibits, which ranged from giant dinosaur bones to ancient pottery, old political documents and a cultural display of the country. The latter featured economic information, statistics of imports and exports and most interestingly a detailed description of the foods common to the various Central American countries and the regional differences in the way they are made. Corn is a main staple in most diets and is featured in dozens of foods. Gallo pinto or rice and beans or beans and rice is also something that most Nica’s eat for at least 2 if not 3 meals a day. I still prefer the way it is made in Belize using coconut liquid instead of plain water.

 After seeing the museum and listening to a part of a poetry reading by the statue of Rueben Dario [the national poet] I hailed a taxi back to the Metro Centro (one of 4 malls in the city) passing, on the way, some of the most disgustingly poor squatter camps that I have ever seen.

 [Following the destruction of the 1972 earthquake, most of central Managua was abandoned, leaving a fairly large expanse of vacant land that no-one wants- hence the squatters. Now, some 40 years later, there does seem to be some attempt by the local government to replace the squats with some small but habitable housing complexes]

 Heading south from the Metro Centro for about 3km I eventually found myself at Las Gallerias de Santo Domingo- what seemed to me to be-the largest mall in the city. Going from the squatter camps in downtown to this suburban palace of a shopping centre, I couldn’t believe I was in the same country, let alone the same city. With a food court featuring sushi and steak restaurants I was totally blown away. When I later came upon the Audi dealership on the ground floor I was convinced I was starting to lose my mind.

  While I was able to pick up a pair of shoes at Payless for $40, I cant imagine how a local earning $5 a day would have any use for such a place, and yet at least 75% of the traffic was locals as opposed to tourists,

Another Lazy Monday

9pm Monday 17^th

 Tonight a cloudy sky shielded the moon and the normally impressive nightscape was barely visible. In the central park the vendors were packing up their food supplies, loading them into the backs of carts while horses and mules patiently waited for the command to head home.

  To the left of the Cathedral a ceramic baby Jesus continued to smile at the world, surrounded by his ceramic parents and a collection of wise men, shepherds and a small wooden fence. Adjacent stood a large “Christmas Tree” (mostly wires and framing) adorned with dozens of red “Claro” logos. [Moviestar and Claro are the major competitors in the local cellphone market]

  On Calle La Calzada (the avenue often referred to as Gringo Gulch!) tourists wandered looking for food and/or drink while various musicians (using that term loosely) competed for attention and tips with a variety of street performers, fire jugglers, break dancers, acrobats and panhandlers.

  While I had dinner tonight at Centralito, a typical Nica restaurant, I said no a dozen times. A steady stream of pottery vendors, cigar and cigarette sellers, palm leaf origami folders, painters, hammock makers, musical trios and kids begging for change rolled past my table. “I have no change, I don’t smoke, I have one already, I don’t need it, no thank you.” They probably hear the same thing 9 times out of 10, but once in a while some sucker or rather someone with a soft heart will bite and hand over some currency.

 Reflecting on Monday as a whole, I cant believe how busy I was doing nothing all day.

 Starting with a light breakfast of fruit and coffee at 7:30am, I then made my way to the Museo de Cacao for an omelette with the works. After waiting a half hour to determine that they had lost my order, I waited another half hour before giving up and heading for the Garden Café where I normally go for a real breakfast fix.

 After a sizeable “vegetarian” omelette, I headed to the bank to use the ATM. Punching in a request for 5000 cordoba (about $230) I was less than impressed to see it spit out as 500 C bills. [Picture the reaction of trying to buy a newspaper at a 7/11 with a $100 bill]

 After that I went back to the hotel for shower #2 and then spent an hour studying the Spanish lessons on my computer. Then a siesta, then a bike ride across town to the cemetery to capture some shots of the sunset.

 The roads from the cemetery to the hotel were a minefield of “road apples” Seemed like every horse in town had Taco Bell for lunch. On the way I encountered a crowd surrounding an unconscious rider- 30 people watching, one administering first aid, to the side a bike with a buckled wheel and handlebars askew. In the distance an ambulance could be heard approaching. I snapped a couple of photos and went on my way.

  So far, I have managed to stay out of trouble on the roads. Most Nica’s appear to think no more than 3 seconds head when negotiating intersections, approaching pedestrians or other vehicles. They also have no concept of where the road ends and the curb begins as I found out today when a driver ran me into a bush by the side of the road because he couldn’t fit his 5-foot wide car through the middle of a 10-foot opening! Idiot!

  Tomorrow I have a packed agenda, which includes a visit to the Palacio National (museum) in Managua and perhaps a visit to a real Chinese restaurant. Hopefully, it won’t include food poisoning or a mugging from a taxi driver [The latter being an optional extra in some parts of the city!!]

Nameless streets and Cities of the Dead

Last night a $5 ticket got me pretty close to “front seat” viewing of an absolutely amazing show. Perrozompopo, a Nicaraguan band was in town for one night, putting on a show on the street in front of El Convento. After 3 ballads performed acoustically by the 3 principal guitarists, including lead singer Ramos Mejia, they brought on the rest of their band and started to “kick ass” With a voice somewhat like Peter Gabriel and a political attitude and stage presence like Zack de La Rocha (Rage Against the Machine) he led the band through a series of tunes that had most of the crowd pumped for the entire show. While I captured much of the performance on video my camera let me down by failing to record the audio! What a ….!!!

 Anyway, if you have a chance- google the name.

  In spite of not getting to bed till 1:45, the newly arrived and noisy Veterinary “Army” had me up and awake by 7:15  A quick breakfast of fruit and coffee gave me the fuel for a 2 and ½ hr bike ride around town.

  Volcan Mombacho was surrounded by a cotton wool halo of dense cloud and by 9am the humidity was starting to rise.

 Heading way off the main tourist drags I travelled down quite a few nameless streets where corrugated steel replaced Spanish tile roofs and most homes had shuttered holes rather than actual windows. Peering into a few, dirt floors were often the norm, furniture was minimal and natural light was barely able to penetrate. On the street, children played with sticks while dogs languished in the heat. Some of the more dilapidated dwellings had only partial walls made of the same corrugated steel while others had walls of poorly made adobe with large cracks and holes gaping in the dried mud.

 From these streets I made my way into the cemetery where an avenue of tall Royal Palms welcomed visitors to the homes of Granada’s dead. Covering an area the size of 6 or more football fields this gated community for the dead was equal in elegance to many of the cemeteries of New Orleans. Clearly, many of the dead in this city have accommodations that the living could only dream of. Marble mausoleums, some as big as a Canadian two car garage were a prominent feature, while for those less well off, communal crypts looked like 4 or 5 story apartment blocks.

 After leaving the City of the Dead I returned to town where I ran into Gary, the pharmacist that I occasionally work with in Stratford. Just visiting for a few days from Quepos/Manuel Antonio area of Costa Rica, it was absolutely uncanny that we would cross paths in Granada. We arranged a supper together for the evening and met up again this morning ( Monday)

   As the clock crawls round to 1pm I am just making this another lazy afternoon at the hotel studying Spanish. The ATM’s were all down this morning- no internet throughout town, but the connections seem to be up now. Hopefully the machines have been reloaded since the weekend and I can obtain a little bit of cash for the days ahead.

from the sunshine of Jinotepe to the Hell of Coyotepe

When I first came to this country I was a little nervous of public transport.

   Now, as long as the major body parts are held on with nylon cord as opposed to twine, I feel OK.

   This morning I set off bright and early for what I expected might be an all day trek.

Jinotepe, slightly west of the Pueblos Blancos was a good 45 minute ride from Granada.

  The route took a southerly course for a while before veering off towards the northwest.

  The terrain, as mix of forest and scrub brush was still relatively green, although every river we passed over was simply a dried up dust bed.

  Jinotepe, a town of about 30,000 was in the throws of a Saturday market with almost every street jammed with vendors selling a variety of fresh fruits and vegetables. Like almost all towns in this country it centres around a major church fronted by a park. A bandstand in the centre was surrounded by tall old trees shading a number of crisscrossing pathways. Most of the benches were occupied by old men and the odd young couple.

 From Jinotepe a mini bus ride landed me in downtown Diriamba, a smaller somewhat dustier version of Jinotepe. My main reason for being there was to check things out prior to the upcoming Fiesta de San Sebastian. A major religious festival and all-round party it apparently starts on the evening of 18^th and goes all the way through the 19^th of January.

 Again, a market, a church and a small park- then back to Jinotepe where my next bus took a round about route to Masaya via 4 or 5 other towns.

  On the way, dozens of small furniture “factories” offered rocking chairs, tables and chairs, dressers and bedframes.

 The bus arrived at the main market in Masaya in time for me to risk another lunchtime encounter with street food. Sufficiently stuffed, I hailed a taxi for a 20minute ride to Coyotepe.

  Originally built in 1904? as a fortress to protect Masaya, it occupies a large hill to the northeast of town where it offers a splendid view of Lake Masaya and both Masaya and Mombacho volcanoes.

 It was later used as a prison for political prisoners during the Somoza years. Now home to a local Boy Scout troop, one of their number provided me with a guided tour. Taking me deep below ground we visited a number of prison cells where hundreds of prisoners were held in absolutely atrocious conditions. Names and numbers of prisoners held are essentially unknown because records were destroyed before Somoza was finally ousted. The blackened walls and ceiling of one cell identified it as the area where the records were burned.

 One of the maximum security cells still had “shit stains’ on the walls. Guards above the cells defecated and urinated into the cell area as a form of mental torture and humiliation for the prisoners confined below.

 Occasionally a surviving prisoner will make the journey back to “meet their past”, adding to the written history of the place. My guide talked of meeting people with both physical (hands and fingers amputated or deformed) and mental reminders of their imprisonment, women raped and bearing children of (probably now dead) prison guards.

  Horror on a mediaeval scale yet this happened as recently as 30 years ago.

  Concerned for my safety walking back down to the main road ( 3 Europeans got mugged last week) my guide arranged for me to hitch a ride back to the highway in the back of another visitor’s truck. From there, a totally jammed bus picked me up for what was to be a rather squished ride back to Granada.

   From Jinotepe to Coyotepe in just over 3 hours- a small trip measured geographically, yet historically and emotionally, they are worlds apart.

bike rentals for the suicidal!!!

At breakfast this morning I was joined by a couple from the USA. He was just visiting. She was on a break from a 10-month NGO posting in Managua and she filled me in on life in the city. In a nutshell-TRUST NO-ONE!!! Tourists beaten up and robbed by taxi drivers, tourists attacked in broad daylight etc. (Sounds just like Winnipeg!!)

  After that I picked up my rental bike and went for a ride along the lakefront. After covering about 8km and realizing I was totally alone I started to get a tad nervous. When 4 guys with slingshots came out onto the road from a side trail, I decided to put it into high gear and get back to town.

  After a quick shower at the hotel I set off again, confining my travels to the town limits.

  Feeling a little hungry and deciding to become a little adventurous I ate at a street vendor who had a small stall just outside of the cemetery!! The place had enough clientele that I decided to take a chance on some grilled chicken with a side of rice, mashed potatoes and fried bananas. A heaping dose of pico de gallo (not too spicy) ramped up the flavour a bit. [Somehow I don’t think I am going to be short of carbs. any time soon]

 There was enough chicken for me plus provide a few leftovers to feed the sad eyed dog that was staring up at me during the entire meal. The bill came to 75 Cordoba ($3.50) and probably 40% of that was probably for my bottle of Coca Cola.

  A ride back through town helped enhance my Survivor Nicaragua skills- people drive here like they not only own the road but 50% of the sidewalk too!

 After my 3^rd shower of the day, I fired up my computador por una hora de Escuela Espanol .

 Down at El Convento, two blocks away, the entire street has been blocked off by a road crew assembling a pretty big stage. It looks like some Latin American Grammy Award winning band will be cranking up the volume on Saturday night. Who and what is a mystery at this point.

9pm

 Mystery solved- the band is called Perrozompopo and seem to be pretty popular in Central America. I downloaded a few tracks and was reasonably impressed. No idea what the songs are about but the music is good.

Bus riding in Managua

9pm Thursday Jan 13^th

 Today Susanna flew home, leaving me to get up to all kinds of trouble on my own!! After seeing her off at the airport, I grabbed a city bus for a trip across Managua to the Mercado Roberto Huembes. The trip cost twelve and a half cents and took me across the northern part of the city, through some neighbourhoods that are apparently dangerous and some less so. All in all an interesting ride, especially as I was the only “gringo” on the bus. Halfway to the market a hawker got on the bus and proceeded with a close to 10 minute “infomercial” extolling the values and benefits of a vitamin product he was trying to sell. All in Spanish but very understandable, this pill did everything but top up your gas tank!! Somehow the Spanish word for Bullshit has escaped me but it would have come in handy.

 Getting off at the market, I hoofed around for a while looking for food that would nourish rather than kill me. Settling on a small stall with quite a lot of business I decided my safest bet was Sopa (soup) The choices were seafood, mondongo [you really don’t want to know!] and pollo y vegetales. Settling on the latter I was directed to a large communal table. They put down a bowl in front of me that would typically be a bowl for 6 or more at a Chinese restaurant. By the time I had consumed a little less than half I was more than stuffed. Right then a man offering shoeshines asked me a) if I wanted a shoeshine and b) would I let him have the rest. I answered no to #1 and yes to #2. Wasting no more time on me he settled in to a really hearty feast while I paid the bill -$2.50.

  After that I hopped a bus back to Granada, which, it turns out, only stops at the edge of the city rather than the regular bus station. So needless to say, I got enough exercise for the day, plus the chance to explore some areas of the city that were previously unknown to me.

  After a well-needed shower and a change of clothing I found myself at a bar/restaurant that had been recommended but never seemed to be open. Offering a Nicaraguan take on Mexican food it hit the spot without being overfilling.

 Surprisingly, the waitress was from the USA and as such seemed to be a magnet for what are termed “expats” This is a generic term for what are typically a bunch of US citizens, typically male, typically middle aged and often (sadly) cruising for “companionship” from the locals. The two at the bar tonight had they’re heads so close together that it looked like they were sharing a comb over. As well they were splitting a magnum sized bottle of Toña ( the local beer) One or other was supplying the waitress with drinks as she went back and forth between showing people tables and adding up dinner tabs. A blue haze of smoke drifted over their heads while they swapped (I am guessing) fishing stories.

 “What a piece of work is man, how noble in reason….. And then on the other hand!!!!

 Yes Granada does have its seedier side.

Masaya Night Tour

10pm,

           A pair of very dusty shoes and a pile of dirty clothing laying on the floor of the hotel room are testimony to the amount of effort required for tonight’s Masaya Volcano excursion.

 After a relatively lazy day in Granada we set out at 4pm for the trip to the Masaya National Park. Our group consisted of 4 Canadian and 3 German tourists plus our Tierra Tours guide, Ramon and his driver. On arriving at the parking area, which overlooks the main crater we commenced to hoof it up the 400 and odd stairs which lead to a replica of the first wooden cross. It was placed there in the early 1500’s by a Catholic priest who considered the volcano to be the Mouth of Hell. Also considered sacred by the native population, it was the site of some ritual sacrifices in the pre-Hispanic eras. Our guide, Ramon mentioned that Somoza’s troops would actually execute political prisoners by ejecting them out of helicopters positioned over the lava pools. When the Sandanista’s eventually ousted the corrupt governing body in 1979 they apparently “returned the favour”

  Spewing an almost constant mix of sulphur fumes, smoke, ash and other poisonous gases the most recent “ burps” from the central and currently active Santiago crater were in 2000 and 2008. The former involved a 40 meter boulder and a rental car. Both can be seen on Yu-tube videos if one googles Masaya Volcano.

 A second and more strenuous hike brought us to the top of the most easterly crater, Masaya  (which has been inactive since the late 1770’s) Following this trail past the crater we ascended a rather slippery slope leading to the highest point in the area., a rocky prominence allowing a 360 degree view of the panorama. ,By this time the sun had gone down and a cooling wind was blowing through the area. The distant lights of Masaya and Granada could be seen and later the stars began to reveal themselves.

  Stumbling back down the trail in almost darkness we took a short ride to the other side of the crater where we donned hardhats and picked up flashlights before heading down a trail to the first of two caves. Squatting down in the darkness of the entrance to the first we watched as hundreds of bats flew in and out of view. Further along the trail we descended into the second cave. Formed as a result of molten lava and gas bubbles these lava tunnels stretch into the hills around Masaya. Several hundred meters long and approx 10 meters high and wide, they have served as sacrificial sites in ancient years. More recently they also served as hiding places during the various conflicts of the past century. A rockfall prevented us from travelling any more than 200 meters into the cave, more than enough to allow one to experience a short bout of total darkness when everyone turned off their flashlight. Returning to the main parking area we stopped over the Santiago crater for a (failed) glimpse of lava flow – too deep to be seen that night before returning to town for a well needed shower and a clothing change.

 With far more detail that could’t be covered here, Masaya is a fascinating site that show up on various web searchers for those interested.

Finger Lickin Chicken?????

Tuesday morning ( Jan 11^th)

 Midnight has come and gone and dawn is fast approaching. A quick shower has helped alleviate some of the night’s humidity and I have taken the unusual step of turning the aircon on for the night (Usually it’s only needed during the day)

Dinner tonight at the Alhambra hotel was a quite delicious ‘Traditional Nicaraguan Comida Tipica” Consisting of skewers of beef, pork and chicken, pan fried plantain, deep fried plantain, fried “salty cheese”, seasoned ground beef, tortillas, salad and stewed brown beans, it was more than sufficient to feed the both of us. The remainder, wrapped in foil for me to take home, made it about 500 feet before it was eagerly accepted by one of the local “street dwellers”

 Walking back to the hotel along the Calzada (the main pedestrian street) we met up with a couple from Toledo, Ohio whose path we had crossed on the way to Leon last week. Swapping travel adventures we chatted for a while before we continued on, leaving them to enjoy the rest of the evening while they awaited their ride to Managua for a 2am flight home.

 Our own weekend adventures at San Simian concluded with a somewhat overdue taxi pick-up that brought us back to Granada shortly after 3pm on Sunday.

  Following the “obligatory” siesta we headed to Jimmy’s (Jimmy Three Fingers Restaurant and Bar) for a farewell meal with our acquaintances from Kingston, Ian and Rob. They were catching a red-eye back to Miami and then on to Toronto.

   While there we had a fairly lengthy chat with the owner about life and business in Nicaragua. It turns out that he was formerly a musician on the bar circuit in the USA a few yeas back.  He told us quite a few stories- how he got his name, how he purchased the delicious steaks he serves, how much of a headache it is to run a restaurant in this town etc. etc. On asking him about handmade guitars, his response was that nobody in the entire country had a clue how to build a decent guitar. As I had discovered in Masaya, he told me that they are hard to tune and generally speaking, will not stay in tune.

 He also alluded to the fact that he needs some help in his restaurant kitchen, but that he could be worse than Gordon Ramsey if things got too crazy. I might take a chance and offer to work for meals once Susanna heads home!

  This morning (Monday) I spent three hours roaming the local market while Susanna manicured, pedicured, cut and tinted a few hundred Cordoba away ($35)

  Wandering the market is definitely not a task for the squeamish and might be considered a motivator for anyone considering going vegetarian. Barely recognizable animal parts that might be generically described as meat were heaped in piles on various wooden tables and slabs with not a cooler or refrigerator to be seen. The deeper one penetrated the market, the more unsavoury the cuts appeared to be. When one considers the supposedly meticulous but often criticized meat inspection process in Canada, one wonders about the whole system. Can a small local cattle industry involving home slaughtering, market sale and no refrigeration or typical supermarket hygiene standards offer a safer product than the mass produced USA style “”meat machine?” that supplies most of the supermarkets in north America?

  Tucking into a perfectly cooked and delicious grilled chicken breast for lunch today at a small local restaurant, I wasn’t sure I knew the answer.

Nightfall at Lago Apoyo

Saturday night

It is close to 8:30 as I sit less than 30 feet from Lago Apoyo, enjoying the breeze and listening to the waves breaking against the rocks, Above me is a sky like no other that I have seen in many years, Off in the distance, the city glow of Masaya can just be seen over the lip of the caldera. Along the lakeshore the odd light can be seen, the only indication that there are people living on the slopes of this wonderful rarity of nature.

 The real light show, however is taking place above my head. Stars beyond count sparkle in the canopy above me. With little city wash to reduce their effect, these far off suns are a reminder of childhood days when I would look out of my bedroom window, trying to count these specks of light, For most city dwellers in north America the brightest and often only light in the sky is the moon. Besides that there is nothing but the artificial darkness created by the upward glow of man-made illumination.

 What more can one ask of life than to be so entertained by the glories of nature. Would I rather exchange the wealth and luxuries of Canada for the simplistic yet beautiful life of this rather primitive land? Sometimes I wonder.

  Sadly, or perhaps fortunately, reality beckons. There are bills to pay and jobs to be completed. And besides, so far I haven’t discovered a dim sum restaurant anywhere in this country!

  With at least a month to go, I dare say that I will experience other nights like this. Compared to Canada, Nicaragua is a really small country, but the diversity of the country’s geography is what makes it so appealing. From beach to mountain in under 3 hours. That beats the hell out of an all inclusive in Cancun, any day.

Saturday at San Simian

Saturday Jan 8^th 4:30PM

  24 hours later, we find ourselves sitting in the same spot as yesterday, watching the same waves ripple across the lake and waiting for the sun to roll over the hill behind us.

 Aside from the odd vocal performance of geckos hiding in the rafters of the cabana, last night passed relatively peacefully. A dinner of somewhat overcooked chicken breast with rice and vegetables proved to be more than enough to feed both myself and the family dogs.

  This morning a hike to the Catarina Mirador, some 500 meters above, burned off an untold number of calories. The trail, which seemed, in part, to follow sections of a very rocky river bed was somewhat demanding. Local residents, obviously more attuned to the trip, ascended and descended with far more energy and speed than I could muster. On arriving at the summit, I spotted a sign in Spanish described the descent as “ Extreme”

 Unsure of where to go once at the top we walked till we came to a fork in the road.

 (Naturally!) I managed to pick the wrong road and we found ourselves on the highway to the west of San Juan de Oriente (the ceramic town we had visited last week) A 50 cent taxi ride into Catarina was all it took to correct my error, permitting a stop for soft drinks. Continuing downhill, the road turned out to be the other exit from the fork- a route that was both shorter and more direct than the one I had chosen.

  The descent took well over an hour due to both the difficulty of the terrain and the fact that the trail broke into a variety of different branches once we got closer to the lake. With almost no signage and few identifying landmarks, a compass helped maintain some sense of direction and I was pleased when we arrived at an exit point, which was only 100 yards off our actual starting point this morning.

 A burger, beer and a bath (well a shower) gave some relief from the effort of this mornings exercise. A quick swim in the lake provided a relaxing start to a lazy afternoon of napping, reading and hanging out in a hammock.

San Simian weekend

Friday January 7^th.

  It is almost 3pm and a pleasant breeze is keeping things comfortable as we relax in front of our cabana. Lago Apoyo is just a few feet away and we are surrounded on all sides by the caldera of a very extinct volcano.

 The trip here from Granada took a little over half an hour with the last 2 km or so taking up much of the time. The road was, more or less, a collection of potholes linked by the odd flat stretch. The occasional rooster attempted to briefly block our way and the only people sharing the road were villagers on horseback hauling firewood and children playing in the dirt.

  San Simian is listed in the guidebooks as a resort. Robinson Crusoe might be impressed but “rustic” is a term that would better describe the place. Having said that, it is a very relaxing way to spend an afternoon. How we will survive the night might be a different story. The bedroom, with the exception of a waist high support wall is mostly thatch, including the roof. Screens offer a little protection from the wildlife and a mosquito net might slow down their advance, or at least require them to make several detours before they attack. Our bathroom is not actually a room but a walled extension of our cabana, open to the stars. Each cabana has been assigned the name of a locally grown fruit. Ours is Pitaya, which we know in Canada as Dragonfruit.

 In the woods adjacent to the resort are some sizeable termite nests- a definite threat to any pirate with a wooden leg who might decide to attack the resort! The lake itself is about 4km across and has been measured at up to 300 feet deep in some areas. It has the distinction of being the lowest point in Central America and it is, in fact, below sea level.

  When we arrived, the manager explained the house rules, the staff offered us freshly squeezed juice and the family dogs all came to introduce themselves.

 Slightly below our rustic habitation is the main bar/restaurant, which appears to be the hub of most daily activities. Barely audible above the breeze is the chatter of other visitors, conversing with the bar staff in a mixture of English and Spanish.

5pm

 Deciding to take a walk before supper I headed down a trail into the hills. Looking behind me, I realized that I was not alone. Behind me was one of the resorts family dogs, a 13 year old mix. He stayed with me the entire way, providing an escort until I decided that I gone far enough and then keeping me company on my return to the hotel.

  Following a second trail, this time along the lakeshore, the same escort service was provided, the dog occasionally moving ahead of me to ensure that the route was ok. Again, when I had travelled as far as I wished the animal simply followed me home. Bibi, as he is known to the owners seems to be the alpha dog in a group of 4 or 5 that are the hotel’s “house dogs” The other dogs are less attentive to the hotel guests unless the guests are eating. In which case they have their 100% attention- ever on the alert for spilled food!

BACK TO GRANADA

Thursday Jan 6^th,

Thanks to the sanctuary provided by mosquito nets, I awoke at around 6:15am with most of my blood supply intact. Since the promised cooling ocean breezes took a hiatus just before midnight, we relied on the services of a rusted relic of an electric fan to supply some air movement.

 Following a light breakfast we caught the 8:30 bus back to town, Halfway to Leon, I realized that I still had the room key in my pocket! After trying for most of the trip to figure out a way to return it, the problem was solved for me. As soon as we got off the bus we were approached by one of the market vendors who had received a call from the hotel staff. She would simply send it back when she sent them the day’s supplies of fruit and vegetables.

  A taxi ride across town, followed by a bus ride to UCA, Managua (University of Central America) and then a transfer to the Granada bus found us back on the streets of Granada in time for lunch- The entire trip, in just under 4 hours cost us a grand total of $9.00-quite a savings compared to the $40 private transport we used to get from Granada to Leon on Monday.

 While I had hoped to climb at least one more volcano on my visit to Leon, arthritis and self preservation seem to have bested my spirit of adventure- perhaps another time!

Las Penitas Beach

 Noon Wednesday 5^th

  An early checkout from the hotel followed by a lengthy hike across town brought us to the district known as Subtiava. Essentially a barrio (suburb)) of Leon, it is one of the few that remains culturally and ethnically diverse, with a heritage based on the indigenous i.e. pre-Spanish) population. Having explored the area on a previous visit (2009) our only purpose in visiting the area was to reach the bus station.

   A 40-minute (50 cent!) bus ride took us to and then south along the pacific coast to Las Peñitas Beach and a small hotel/hostel called Barca de Oro

   Located right on the Pacific Ocean this rather rustic paradise consists of a dorm room plus 7 or 8? private rooms. With rather basic services including a restaurant and bar, its primary attraction is a cooling breeze off the pacific and a break from the hustle and bustle of the city. The room we were given offers a fan, windows on both sides to allow cross ventilation, plus mosquito nets to protect us from the blood suckers!

  Birds flit around the garden as we enjoy the shade, while a pair of tame parrots (appear to) provide a running commentary on the local happenings.

  Lunch consists of sopa de pescado- literally fish soup, but containing far more- 3 or 4 crabs, a small, essentially, whole fish, several shrimp plus a good supply of vegetables.

 A camarone a la plancha features 6 very large shrimp served on a hot cast iron pan with fries, rice and a salad.

  With the sun still fairly high in the sky (3pm) a walk along the beach has burned off a few calories. Heavy surf seems to hammer the beach constantly and a cooling breeze disguises the intense heat of the day.

Currently I am relaxing in a palapa about 12 feet above the beach. A large inland lagoon has now formed where there was mostly dry sand when we arrived. Fishing boats formerly stranded now bob around in water several feet deep.

 The hotel has actually closed up shop for the afternoon- it is their turn to enjoy a staff Christmas party, their first evening off since early December.

5pm

  My brief siesta is disturbed by the competing screams and squawks of parrots and kids. Emerging from my room I find myself witnessing a piñata murder. With most of the kids too young or too unwilling to wear the traditional obligatory bindfold, the hapless victim was quickly dismembered. A few more blows and candy was flying all over the patio.

 Following the trail of the sun as it slowly descended into the ocean, I made my way west along the coast, snapping, what I hope will be, memorable images of a Nicaraguan sunset.

  8:30pm

   With a lazy supper of fish, fries and salad behind me, I am awaiting the return of the breeze while I watch the tide recede under a moonless but very starry night.

 With no TV to interrupt my thoughts, I do not anticipate a late night.

  Around me on the patio are a variety of obviously American yuppies who majored in psychology spouting an endless stream of b.s. and one-upmanship that would gag a maggot. Susanna thinks they are extras from the Twilight movies!! Between them and a couple of glasses of wine, I should have no trouble sleeping tonight.

  Tomorrow the plan is to use public transport for our trek back to Granada. I am guessing 4 to 5 hours of bussing and waiting for the next one. Buenos Noches!

Leon-day 2

Tuesday Jan 4^th,

                           It is 5pm and I have just made a retreat to my room. That seems to be the standard feeding time for most of the mosquitos who reside in the hotel lobby. Nearing the end of day 2 in Leon , the last couple of days has been a refresher course in the similarities and differences between the two cities. Leon, while appearing somewhat less affluent than Granada, is far cleaner. There is much less garbage on the streets and there seems to be less “humanity’ i.e. people “swarming” the streets- especially in the market areas. Primarily a university town, Leon has a lot more cheap eateries and very few of the overpriced restaurants that seem to populate Granada.

  It is also home to a number of very interesting 16 to 18^th century churches which add character to their individual neighbourhoods.

  We spent much of the morning exploring these various buildings as well as a small museum dedicated to the poet Rubén Dario. A final stop before lunch at Centre de Arte Ortiz-Gurdian offered a huge display of Central and South American artworks ranging from 16^th century paintings to contemporary abstracts. Located in two colonial houses on opposite sides of the street, the visit was more than well worth the one-dollar admission charge.

 A rather mundane but relatively cheap pizza was our evening meal. There were enough slices left over that I was able to share it with one of the many street people who seem to frequent the darker and quieter side streets of town.

  Tomorrow we will most likely head for the beaches, some 20km west of town to see what deluxe accommodations can be had for $25 a night. The primary concern with most places is not the rooms themselves, but rather, what type of “nature” will be sharing the space with us!

Off to Leon for a day or so

Sunday Jan 2^nd,

 An early bus ride found us in Managua by 10:30am. The exit from the bus involved running a gauntlet of extremely pushy taxi drivers offering transport at prices bordering on robbery.

 Settling on a price of  $3 ( a bargain by Canadian standards, but a rip-off compared to other Nicaraguan towns) we were driven to the Plaza de la Revolucion to visit the Palacio National- now a museum. Normally open on Sunday, it was closed- probably because of the New Years weekend. Adjacent to the museum, the ancient cathedral, partially destroyed in the 1972 earthquake was fenced off, having been deemed unsafe. With much of the roof gone and several walls collapsed it was reminiscent of several of the religious buildings in Antigua, Guatemala- also damaged in previous earthquakes. After sauntering through a couple of the parks in the area we had a brief walk along the Malecon. Listed as a pleasant walk along the lakefront, it turned out to be a view blocked by one ramshackle restaurant after another. Adding to the lack of appeal, a fairly steady wind was whipping dust into our eyes.

  Flagging down a taxi, we headed back to the centre of town, the driver dropping us off in front of a modern looking shopping mall. Air-conditioned and occupied by stores clearly geared to tourists and the more affluent locals it proved to be a comfortable break from the mid-day heat. A fast food court featured a selection of standard North American chains like McPuke and Booger King as well as several Nicaraguan equivalents.

 $3.75 was enough to purchase a meaty and quite juicy pechuga de pollo- fried chicken breast, including a drink, fries and coleslaw.

  Most of the calories consumed were walked and sweated off during a hike to Laguna de de Tiscapa, a small but quite pretty volcanic lake close to the town centre. Heading back in the direction of the mall and bus stop, we made a slight diversion to see the new cathedral, essentially a concrete box, totally devoid of the artistry of the old one.

 The bus ride back to Granada was a  representation of the life of a sardine. I am not sure what the Guinness book of records has listed for most people on a mini-bus but we had to have been close. I was more than glad to get off the bus in Granada, debating whether or not to wash or just burn my clothing once we got back to the hotel.

 Sunday’s dinner stop was Jimmy Three Fingers and I am happy to say the meal was significantly better than our visit last year.

    The new location was much better in terms of lighting and ambiance and there were no complaints about food or service.

  Stopping outside the restaurant, we struck up with 2 visitors from Kingston, one of whom had lived near our home town of Listowel for several years- small world.

   Monday after breakfast a visit to Tierra Tours found us quickly packing a few days clothing for a trip to Leon.

Happy New Year from Granada

Whether or not I actually slept last night was difficult to say. However I did drag myself out of bed around 8:30 this morning. It was close to 10:30 before we ventured out into the oppressive heat of the day. The temperature was in the low 30’s with a very unhealthy dose of humidity to weaken any bodies not already damaged by last night’s celebrations.

 The town was eerily silent and even the stray dogs seemed hung over.

  An occasional drunk decorated the odd doorway, collapsed where the New Years celebrations got the better of them.

 Lunch today was at the Bearded Monkey- a popular hostel and backpacker hangout on the opposite side of the city centre. Chicken curry and a chicken stir fry, both over rice and served with two large slices of garlic toast cost a whopping $10 including drinks.

 Deciding that walking in the heat was endangering my life, we headed back to the hotel, just in time to avoid a fairly heavy downpour.

 The rain continued on and off for much of the afternoon but seemed to take a hiatus around 4:30pm

 Bored of the hotel room and The Mummy 3 or 4??? en Espagñol, I ventured out from the hotel, taking an eastward path (away from town) towards the Lake. Arriving at the bottom end of La Calzada, I was surprised to see that my free meal might still be possible. Jimmy Three Fingers wasn’t closed after all- it had merely moved to the other end of town.

  After an hour of walking around the city centre to see what was and wasn’t open, I returned to the Parque Central to find a crush of people in front of the cathedral. A religious procession was entering through the main doors accompanied by the same “Musical Ensemble” that had tortured me on New Years Eve.

  Perhaps sobriety enhanced their musical skills, perhaps they practised- all in all, by the light of day, they sounded significantly more tuneful and professional than they had last night. Outside in the square a number of religious musical groups-guitar and vocal- appeared to be competing for the attention of the crowd.

5pm,

  Returning to the hotel, I find that the focus of the current show seems to be how various musical performers (so far-Brittany Spiers and Marie Osmond) lost weight! Again en Espagñol.

 Spent an hour or so reviewing possible tour options over the next few days-which volcano hike is least likely to induce a heart attack, which is the best way to Leon- private coach i.e. more cost, less time vs. public transport- more time, less money!!

  After that, a slow walk towards downtown for another meal at Nectar- consistently, the most reasonable dining option in town. A homemade chicken and vegetable soup followed by a chicken crepe served with a Béchamel sauce was more than enough for supper.

  The rest of the evening was spent posting restaurant reviews on trip advisor- hoping that he better ones might get me a future discount!!

New Years Evening

8:30pm

  It is the last day of the year and the clock is crawling slowly towards midnight.In the middle of the street a Santa Claus Piñata waits for his inevitable end.  With the Año  Nuevo still 3 hours away, our neighbours are starting to seriously crank the volume all the way to eleven!!

Smoke pours down the street from the various i.e.d’s that make up much of the evenings entertainment.

 Across the way from the hotel, a neighbour has a set (4) of speakers stacked up that would not look out of place at a Pearl Jam concert.

The evening commenced with a massive downpour, which started around 5pm and continues for a good hour and a half, settling down the dust and dropping the temperature several degrees.

 Once the deluge had ended we set off for the town centre. On the Calzada, waiters were mopping up the pools of water, wiping down chairs and setting tables outside for the evening meal

  Dinner tonight was at La Gran Francia, one of the more “deluxe” hotels bordering the Parque Central. From a balcony overlooking the street, the table offered a birds eye, or rather a bat’s eye, view of the street below. Out of the darkness the small creatures flashed by, occasionally zooming through the seating area and into the depths of the hotel.

 What might have been a perfect meal was marred by the fact that the main course was lukewarm rather than hot.

  Returning to the hotel after my meal I found myself feeling somewhat queasy and tired- too much sun or a touch of food poisoning? – so I decided to lay down and quickly drifted off to sleep.

11:40pm

  I awoke to find myself in a nightmare worthy of a Tom Waits tune. Smoke was leaking into the bedroom and outside, a noise that barely resembled music brought me back to consciousness. After laying awake for a few minutes, I decided to go out and record the scene to prove to myself that I wasn’t still dreaming. The band, using that term loosely, consisted of 6 “musicians” –brass, percussion and sousaphone wandering the street and “entertaining” everyone. In the background firecrackers exploded, coloured fireworks lit up the sky and smoke seemed to roll along the street, The entire population of the street was either watching or involved in the production of the spectacle that appeared before me.

  The closer it got to midnight the smokier it got and the louder and more intense the fireworks display. At one point I experienced a percussion blast that was so powerful that I wondered if I had been transported to a war zone.

 The racket continued up until the stroke of midnight, neither climaxing nor stopping. No countdown to 12 midnight, no midnight toasts or kisses, no balloons falling from the sky, no party favours- just an ongoing stream of fireworks explosions, smoke and light which eventually faded to a dull roar at around 2am. The racket actually continued until close to 6am but the front doors of the hotel were closed around 2, thus deadening the street noise and allowing us the chance to at least doze off occasionally.

New Years Eve- afternoon

Friday December 31^st

   Last night was spent rather sleeplessly, which was to be expected considering the circumstances.

 Before heading out on our planned day trip we locked all our valuables inside our suitcases and placed remaining cash and passports in my money belt.

 After an already planned Shiatsu massage, which helped relieve some of my stress, we set off for the south side of town to catch a bus to Los Pueblos Blancos- literally “ the White Villages.

  The route to the bus station required us to tackle the crowded market area . Height has its advantages in some areas but speed and sheer bravado seems to produce the greatest result when moving against the wave that seems to always flow in the opposite direction.

 When we arrived at the bus station, all seats on our intended transport were taken and upwards of 25 people were already standing. Somehow we managed to board the bus and move to the middle. Some 20 minutes into the trip we were able to grab a seat, which had enough legroom for a 5 year old. 40 minutes and three villages later I limped off the bus at our first planned stop.

The town of Catarina is known locally for flower and houseplant production.    Overlooking the volcanic Lake Apoyo, it also offers a spectacular view of the surrounding countryside. Several overpriced restaurants attempt to take advantage of the view, but after admiring the scene for a half hour or so we descended into the lower part of town where a grilled chicken dinner, drinks included, cost a meagre $5 for two.

 Walking back to the highway and then south for a short kilometre we entered the town of San Juan de Oriente (One of several “San Jauns” in this country. Famous for ceramics, we found the town to be somewhat short on tourists today and it wasn’t long before we had purchased as much pottery as we could reasonably carry home.

 The wait for the bus back to town seemed to take forever but the journey back was somewhat faster and far less crowded than our ride this morning.

 Arriving at the south end of the market, we forced our way back through the streets, still very crowded, but slightly more passable due to the fact that barriers had been set up to restrict the entry of motor vehicles.

 The crowds eventually thinned out as we approached the Parque Central and La Calzada (the pedestrian street to the lake) was almost deserted.

 A stop at Nectar for a sangria offered a quick respite from the heat and nicely broke up the walk back to the hotel. A shower and a short siesta left me refreshed and ready for the planned festivities of the evening.