Final Update- Nicaragua Blog 2010/11

THE WRAP UP.- Matagalpa, Friday Feb 11^th 1 am.   

  Travelling solo is an adventure like no other- it allows you to set your own speed and agenda. At times it can be risky and sometimes it can be lonely, but strangely enough, that did not happen often. There was always someone there to talk to, pretty well every single day. Often the communication was with locals and was a struggle as I mangled their Spanish and they butchered my English, but generally the message got through.

 One little old lady on a bus was telling the guy behind her that “ this idiot next to me cant speak a word of Spanish” I just smiled and let it go although I was tempted to tell her “ I think my Spanish is not quite as bad as you think.”

  In the course of 6 weeks I have seen every spot on the tourist map except for the Corn Islands. I have also seen a lot of places that many tourists don’t even know exist.

  For being such a small country, it is absolutely amazing the extent of diversity that Nicaragua has to offer.

 Just as impressive is the fact that the people seem to be able to bounce back from every adversity that they have faced. Two major conflicts in 30 years and several natural disasters would have made most people give up, yet they seem to keep plugging away. With a cost of living only barely above Haiti, the main thing required in this country is a government that will focus on reasonable development, while protecting key ecological treasures. A government that will provide improved standards for all working and or retired citizens while refusing to line its own pockets. A government that will respectfully refuse the advances and offers of external financial support i.e. the USA and China, unless it comes without strings. In other words, probably not in my lifetime!!!

  Having spent close to 7 weeks travelling the country I have visited over 30 different communities and (counting my last trip) have been to all but 3 of the (17) departamentos (or states), which make up the country. And yet with 3 departamentos to go, there is still 50% of the country yet to see.

 Will I ever fulfill that goal?? That is a question that I can’t answer right now. While I would love to do so, with little infrastructure, travel in those areas is very physically demanding and I am not getting any younger. Besides, for me, South America remains untouched, as do many parts of the Far East. In spite of all my years of travelling, I have yet to cross the equator so perhaps that will be my next (but one) project.

  Any future travel plans will most likely hinge on the outcome of two upcoming eye surgeries, currently scheduled for March 3^rd and 10th. [That will probably be the subject of a future blog]

 My hopes are that the next trip on my agenda will be what is often termed “The Pilgrim’s Way. In other words the route across Northern Spain following the road to Santiago de Compostella. With the need to cover about 20km a day, at least, walking through various terrains in all weathers, I will need to downsize my baggage requirements somewhat. That might be my biggest challenge.

 As the clock rolls on for 1 in the morning, my sleep is being disturbed by a howling cat somewhere below my hotel window, and a couple of mosquitoes buzzing around in the semi-darkness who are determined to extract some blood from me before the night is through. And as if that is not enough, a choir of barking dogs is trying to ensure that no one else gets to sleep while they are awake. Once they are done a chorus of roosters will take over thus guaranteeing that I don’t waste too much time sleeping my life away.

  

Buenos Noches y Vaya con Dios

To anyone who has been paying attention to my occasional history lessons and wishes to follow them further, a site recommended by Gringo Mike is BBC.com then type in Nicaragua on their search engine.

  Otherwise just google: Augusto Sandino

                                        Carlos Fonseca ( the politician, not the boxer!)

                                         The Samoza Era + Nicaragua

                                          Ben Linder

For links to specific geographic areas, the searches (including video) are absolutely endless. Enjoy

 

Back in Gringo Glulch- Granada

9pm Thursday night

  With a rather full day of activity behind me, I enjoyed a long walk back to the hotel this evening after dinner at El Mason. Located a good 1.5km from the hotel, the walk back allowed me to absorb some of the street activity at both city parks as well as the km of “main street” that separated them. Up in the hills, the lights in the barrios looked like stars, making a very beautiful nightscape- a far contrast to the daytime when the shacks and shanties are revealed in all their “glory”

 Along the street the fruit vendors had packed and gone home, replaced by food vendors grilling meats over homemade barbecues cut from split oil drums. A few shops, mostly clothing were open, the boom of auto tuned digital music mixes blasting from their doors to let people know they were still in business.

 In the cathedral a packed house was listening to a sermon on what sounded to me like respect for women. [Nicaragua and Matagalpa in particular seems to have some issues with spousal abuse]

  A couple of streets over a basketball game was in full swing at a small “stadium” and judging by the crowd noise, anyone who wasn’t in church or wandering through the parks was watching the game.

  Staying in bed this morning till the ungodly hour of 7:45, I enjoyed a light breakfast before touring the town to see any churches and museums I might have missed.

  The Coffee Museum, open 8 to 5 was closed every time I walked by. The Carlos Fonseca Museum (and also his place of birth) was open. A small, home with brick floors, adobe walls and tile roof, it traced his life from birth through to the founding of the FSLN (Sandanistas) to his death [of wounds following an ambush by opposition forces in 1976. The museum featured some photos from the era of street fighting in the various towns as Samoza attempted to put down the revolt. Some towns were actually “carpet bombed” by his air force in an attempt to crush the rebellion. [The US military had also done the same in Ocotal in 1933 so it wasn’t a totally unfamiliar experience for the people]

 Following this brief history lesson, I attempted to hike up to one of the miradors (scenic lookouts) that surround the city. After wandering through one of the western barrios and climbing several hundred feet on fairly decent concrete pathways, I found myself slipping and sliding on narrow rocky paths for some distance before I abandoned my quest and returned to the city centre.

 Like most of the hills surrounding the city, they are dotted with small homes of rather poor construction. Adobe or walls of salvaged wood seem to be the norm with the odd tile roof, but more typically, corrugated steel. As I travelled uphill I found myself to be the centre of attention as kids chased me to “take my photo” Unlike Guatemala and Mexico where money seems to be a prerequisite, these kids wanted nothing more than to be the subject in someone’s camera lens.

  At one point I found myself in the middle of an impromptu soccer game with a dozen kids (ages about 8 to 14) trying out their, TV learned, English slang on me. Once they saw the camera they hammed it up while I snapped a few shots before heading back downhill still laughing at their attempts to make fun of me.

 Lunch was a pizza at El Mason while I chatted with an American “ They call me Gringo Mike” who had lived in Matagalpa for 3 years. Originally from Washington State he had, in his words, visited over 80 countries and considered Nicaragua to be one of the best he had seen.

 With lunch stretching out to a rare dos cervesas, I was more than ready for a siesta when I returned to my room.

  Apart from a quick visit to the cathedral to grab some interior shots (missed on my last visit) the afternoon was largely “wasted” as I enjoyed the (soon to be abandoned) pleasure of being busy doing nothing!!

  With most of my “stuff” packed for the return journey to Granada, I guess I will wake up tomorrow when ever my body tells me to. And after that, who knows.

5pm Granada.

    Four hours of bus then taxi then bus again found me back in Gringo Gulch by 1:20pm. By the time the bus had descended into the flatlands north of the city the temperature was already into the low 30’s with a good dose of humidity to boot.The ride across Managua was the slightly more expensive than the express bus from Matagalpa into Managua $3.00 vs $3.50 but I made it to the bus station just in time to catch an express to Granada. Unfortunately, when I arrived there wasn’t a room available at Bohemian Paradise for either Friday or Sunday so I went in search of other digs. After getting quotes of $75 a night (after discount at Casa San Francisco and $60 ( including breakfast) I settled on La Dulce Mar ( with swimming pool) for $35. While it is on the Calzada, the rooms are far enough back that I shouldn’t have to listen to the street noise unless I decide to be a part of it.

 With little planned for the next couple of days, I am close to concluding this blog, except for a final summary which I will tack on once I get it finished.

 Next week it is back to the harsh land of reality, bills and SNOW-OHHHHH NOOOOO!!!!!!!!

Wednesday in Matagalpa

Wednesday 5pm

 As if the chorus of barking dogs and a howling cat weren’t enough, my first migraine of the trip decided to interrupt my sleep plans shortly after midnight.

  The combined effects of an Imitrex and an Imovane  provided me with some relief around 1:30am and I slept soundly till 7:30 this morning.

 Heading uphill towards the bus depot, I made a brief stop at the house of Jeaneth Larios, our homestay “mother” from the last trip. An enjoyable but limited conversation followed as her English comprehension is practically nil. Leaving her some copies of photos from the last trip, I continued to the bus depot where a bus for San Ramon was waiting. Some 12km east of Matagalpa, over reasonably good roads, San Ramon is a small village of perhaps 2000 people. Set into the hills it has few amenities but provides a nice “city break” with some pretty houses and little else. A few walking trails lead off into the hills, one to an abandoned mine and a coffee plantation.  I found the road, once I had left town, to be a bit quiet, with only the odd local passing along the same path. After a km and unsure of just how much further the mine was, I turned back, but not before taking some photos of the surrounding hills.

  Returning to town, I stopped for lunch at a relatively new restaurant adjacent to the town square. Seated at the next table was a woman from Pittsburgh who I had seen about 10 days earlier in El Castillo. It turns out that we were travelling similar routes but going the opposite way. Consequently I was able to provide her with recommendations for her planned trip (after lunch) to Jinotega and Esteli.

  Strangely enough, one of the main purposes of her trip to Matagalpa was to visit the grave of Ben Linder, something she must have done shortly before my own visit yesterday.

  Following lunch, a stop in at Matagalpa tours got me an unaffordable price to visit Finca Esperanza Verde, a coffee farm west of town. While I could have done it using local buses, that route required an 8km round trip hike over some rocky roads. The tour would have eliminated the hike, but at $110 US for a single person, it was well beyond my willingness to pay. Similar to Selva Negra it would have been an interesting way to spend the day, but I am sure I can find some short hikes around town that will keep me busy for a lot less $$.

   Supper tonight was at La Vita e Bella, a small pizza/Italian restaurant near the hotel. Having enjoyed a meal there on my last visit I was a little disappointed at tonight’s speed of service and  just average food. A new place, which just opened up a couple of weeks ago El Mason will probably give them some competition in the pizza department.

 Still a little too early for bed, I entertained myself watching a few South Park episodes that I had loaded onto my I-Pod- totally tasteless!!!! But somewhat amusing.

Matagalpa- first 2 days

Matagalpa, Tuesday evening.

According to my computer, today is Tuesday and I am in Matagalpa (although I figured out the second part on my own)

  Yesterday’s bus trip from Jinotega into town was relatively tolerable, with never more than 5 or 6 people standing during the entire route. With the bus significantly less crowded than my ride north on Saturday, I was able to truly enjoy the beauty of the scenery as we descended into the Matagalpa area. The people on the bus looked at me like I was nuts as I snapped photos of various scenic areas. [“Look at the crazy gringo, taking pictures of rocks and trees!”]

 Arriving around 10am it took several requests of various taxi drivers before one knew of my intended destination.

 La Buena Onda (English translation- Good Vibes) is a small hostel with one private room, which I have for the next 4 nights [No-one would get any sleep if I slept in a common dorm!]

 Located about 3 blocks away from the main cathedral, it is within walking distance of most of the core area.

  Matagalpa is a town of around 500,000 inhabitants, located about 1200 meters above sea level and roughly 130km north of Granada [although the road distance is considerably longer] Surrounded by hills that tower over the town centre, a walk in any direction will generally involve at least one or two uphill sections.

 Walking around town yesterday, I was quite surprised at the changes that had occurred since my last visit in 2009- a few new coffee shops, restaurants and shops and a general look of improved prosperity. Meanwhile, some things hadn’t changed at all- the same fruit vendors on the same street corners and the same old ladies begging for change in front of the more popular stores.

 Walking back to the hotel yesterday afternoon, I bumped into one of the Spanish teachers from my previous trip. We enjoyed a brief chat, half Spanish, half English about work and life in general.

 Between a heavy rainfall, the 2 am barking dogs and the 4 am roosters I did not get a whole lot of sleep last night.

  The temperature was in the very low teens when I first stepped outside this morning at 7. The surrounding hills were barely visible through a very dense low cloud cover.

  Following an overly heavy Nica traditional breakfast [fruit juice. tortilla, rice and beans, scrambled eggs] I set out for a walk to the cemetery. Starting out with two layers of clothing against the chill, I was not feeling any warmer by the time I reached the southern bus depot. Passing this halfway point on what I estimated was a 3km trip, I found myself off the edge of the map in my guidebook. Faced with the choices of flagging a taxi down or just using my internal GPS, I managed to follow a route that found me, more or less at the front of the cemetery.

 The city actually has two cemeteries which are located side by side- one for locals and one for foreigners. The former was my intended destination.

 Located on the side of a hill, the grave markers ranged from simple crosses to very large mausoleums. After wandering aimlessly for a good half hour I sought the assistance of one of the staff who was doing basic site maintenance.

 Following a very meandering path across the cemetery he eventually led me to the gravesite that I had been seeking.

  A stone, much smaller than expected, marked the grave of Ben Linder, the only non-Nicaraguan buried in this part of the cemetery. The grave, surrounded by a low, pastel blue painted, cement boundary, had clearly not been attended to for some time. A few weeds and the odd flower had struggled through the dry earth that marked his burial place.

 After taking a few photographs I began my walk back to the city centre, somewhat saddened by the fact that a significant motivator and developer of the country’s infrastructure hadn’t received more attention. [Besides other things, he was instrumental in the development of several small hydro-electric projects offering electricity to villages in the Jinotega area]

 Passing through the market area I observed some sights typically off limits to most tourists.

 A couple of kids were digging through a large pile of refuse, salvaging any pieces of discarded fruit and vegetables that were still passably edible. Further along the same street, passed out from either alcohol or solvent abuse, a male in perhaps his early thirties lay face up, oblivious to the world, while dozens of flies crawled over his face and body.

 Somewhat further along the route I noticed a male, perhaps in his early forties, sitting on a small stool in front of his home. In his hands a pencil and a grade one (or two?) spelling tutor, complete with simple pictures. In a slow and deliberate manner he tried, with obvious difficulty, to fill in the words representing the pictures before him. Taking basic literacy for granted, I was somehow shocked as I watched discretely while he struggled.

  Having had more than enough exposure to the hidden side of life in this country, I was glad to be able to return to my hotel room where I could hide from the realties of life for a few hours.

 Having succumbed to the effects of a batido de mango [fruit blended with ice and milk like a smoothie] which I drank on the way back to the hotel- delicious but dangerous!(possibly bad ice or sour milk) I didn’t leave the hotel until late afternoon.

   A 1km walk to the northern bus depot to check on bus routes and schedules brought on an episode of dizziness and profuse sweating which I attributed to a combination of hypoglycemia and dehydration. Afraid of blacking out on the street, I made a hasty retreat to the hotel, only straying as far as the adjacent café for a light supper once the dizziness settled down.

 Hopefully, tomorrow will be a better day.

 

Another Dave's top ten list- based on true events!!!

 While travelling in Nicaragua here are the Top Ten Signs you should be looking for another restaurant.

Number 10: You order spaghetti Bolognese and get boiled pasta topped with ground beef and sweet and sour sauce.

Number 9: When you look at the soup of the day it stares back at you.

Number 8:  They have the number of the local funeral home on speed dial

Number 7: The locals snicker and point at you as they walk by.

Number 6: The bathroom attendant does double duty as the tortilla maker between flushes

Number 5: All the staff behind the counter are skinny

Number 4:  The posters on the wall are ads for Maalox rather than Toña (national beer)

Number 3:  The staff are ordering takeout from the place across the street.

Number 2:  When you complain your glass looks dirty the waitress dims the lights

And the number one reason to find a different restaurant in Nicaragua is:

   Even the street dogs wont beg for food there.

Believe it or not, all but 3 of these are based on actual incidents in my travels- your guess which 3!

    

Saturday and Sunday in Jinotega/ San Raphael Del Norte

9pm. Saturday. Jinotega.

 For a relatively small town the cathedral here was absolutely enormous. A bright white building with yellow trim and multiple domes, it’s size made it look very out of place. The interior was bright and cheerful with about 18 arched columns supporting the roof. Each one was fronted by the statue of a saint, some of which were readily identifiable, others not so,

  The central park in front of the cathedral had the typical bandstand, several tall trees and various smaller bushes that were actually identified with small signs. Scattered throughout the park were various vendors selling pizza, tortillas, hamburguesas and various deep fried potato and plantain chips.

 Walking east for a few blocks I found myself in the market area. Again, compared to other cities it covered an area much larger than expected. I was surprised to find large areas where coffee beans had been spread on the ground to dry. In some areas they were placed on black plastic or tarps, in others they were just spread on the bare earth.

  While a few vendors were selling fresh fruits and vegetables a considerable number of the stalls were selling dry goods, primarily rice, corn and several varieties of beans.

  As I continued eastward along the main road of the market, dozens of “chicken buses” were streaming into the area. Their interiors were packed with people arriving from neighbouring villages, their roofs loaded with produce and articles for sale. Once they had discharged their loads the roof racks were reloaded with newly purchased items that the villagers were taking home.

 With virtually no towns of any decent size east of Jinotega, and certainly no good roads, the town is, essentially the last bastion of civilization before heading out to the wilds. Anyone venturing beyond the town’s eastern borders will apparently find themselves in stunningly beautiful country with small towns offering very few amenities like hotels with private rooms or restaurants such as we know them.

  Even in town a few hospitajes offer a bed for the night (but little else) for as little as $2 or $3.

 Having had my fill of wandering through the seemingly endless “ sea of humanity” I escaped the market area and found a restaurant, La Colmena (the beehive), which served up a tasty beefsteak covered in a sauce of tomatoes and onions. As if a bowl of rice and a plate of French fries didn’t supply enough carbs, this meal also came with pasta.

 Sufficiently stuffed, I returned to the centre of town and continued west a few blocks, crossing a bridge over the river (more or less an algae covered drainage ditch) to the cemetery. Unlike Granada’s with its massive marble mausoleums, this city of the dead was mostly filled with very simple crosses and the occasional engraved marble slab.  Judging by its size, I would guess that the population of the cemetery is of a number similar to that of the present town.

  Given the very violent history of the area- a site of major battles in both the 1979 Revolution and the Contra war, I would imagine that a good many of the departed did not die peacefully.

  Tonight I had dinner in a local Comida Tipica (essentially a diner) Tempting fate, I ordered chicken fajitas and a glass of iced tea. Four hours later neither the ice cubes nor the tap water washed salad have exacted any vengeance on my gastro-intestinal tract. So hopefully I will be fit to travel in the morning. Freed of the need to drag my backpack along, I am hoping that the pain in my knees will subside somewhat.

 8pm Sunday

  Awoken at 6:30 by the sound of church bells, I enjoyed a chilly walk through town as the sun melted away the heavy mist shrouding the hilltops to the north and east. I only found one restaurant open and serving breakfast – Sunday’s seem like a late starter day in Jinotega.

  Fortunately, I did survive last night’s dinner with no complications. I can’t say the same for the bus ride to San Rafael. Four applications of Voltaren gel and two Tramacet have finally taken the edge off the pain.

 Today’s chicken bus “conductor” seems to have been trying for a new Guinness record for maximum number on a bus. As a result I found myself sharing a seat designed for one person. At the same time, the people standing were so packed in that my leg was squeezed against the seat in front to such an extent that I lost feeling from my knee on down. The 24 km trip lasted well over an hour due to frequent stops to take on and drop off passengers. The bus finally started to empty out about 2km out of San Rafael and I managed to restore my circulation.

 With a main street about a km long, San Rafael del Norte is a relatively small town. Its key focal points are its church and a building called the Tepeac. The latter, situated on a hill overlooking the town is reached by a long staircase on which the 12 Stations of the Cross are displayed in glass cases. At the top, the building, a tomb for a much-loved Italian priest, looks more like a church than a tomb. Father Odorico d’Andrea, who died in 1996, was instrumental in developing many improvements to the lives of the local people such as a health clinic, library, development of neighbourhoods for the local poor etc. As a result he is revered by the locals and is considered by some to have miraculous healing powers.

 The church, one of Father d’Andrea’s renovation projects, was an impressive sight. Large murals decorated the sidewalls and the use of pastel coloured glass windows just below the roofline provided a soft yet bright look to the entire interior.

  Upon learning that I had come from Canada to see his church, the custodian on duty walked me around the building pointing out different details. He then allowed me into the locked upper levels of the church to see the view from the rear balcony as well as the view of the surrounding town from the bell tower. I was even given, but declined, the opportunity to ring the church bells.

  Before leaving town I took a quick glance into a small museum dedicated to Augusto Sandino. It was in this area that he first clashed with US forces in the early “30’s as he attempted to eliminate US involvement in the politics of the country. [He was eventually assassinated in 1934 by members of Somoza’s National Guard, ultimately leading to 42 years of corruption and brutality under the rule of three consecutive Somoza family presidents]

 For some reason the bus returning to Jinotega was never more than half full and the journey back was significantly shorter in terms of time. Arriving just before 1:30, I returned to La Colmena for lunch- a club sandwich featuring real grilled chicken and ham, plus a “healthy” serving of French fries.

 Returning to my hotel, my planned siesta was all but ruined by a lengthy and loud religious “event” at the adjacent house. Perhaps a wake or just a non-denominational service, singing and prayers (in Spanish, of course) alternated for a good two hours at a volume with which my TV could not compete.

 Deciding to splurge for supper I went to Hotel Café (the town’s one and only “fancy” hotel) for a filet mignon with herb butter. Finishing up with a dessert of candied mango served in honey, I needed no sugar in my coffee. Topping out at 500 Cordoba ($25) it was my most expensive meal of the trip so far- but once in a while you need a little bit of a treat!

Tomorrow my destination will again be Matagalpa with a planned stay of 3 nights while I visit some surrounding towns. With just a single week left in my “sabbatical” I need to make every day count.

 

Jinotega, last stop before hitting the Wild East!

3pm  Saturday, Jinotega

 5am I found myself awake and re-thinking my planned route for today. Taking the scenic route to San Raphael would involve some pretty bumpy roads, plus, when I got there, I would be dragging 35 pounds of backpack with me wherever I went.

  The smarter route would be first to Matagalpa and then a connection to Jinotepe, dump everything at a hotel there and travel with just camera and water bottle to San Rafael. I had already paid my room bill, so it was just a matter of dropping my key and flagging down a taxi to the bus depot.

  It was actually chilly when I left the hotel at 6:30am- not a sensation normally felt in this country.

  The bus for Matagalpa pulled out of the Cotran Sur (south bus depot) at 6:45am and by the time it had covered a mile it was standing room only.

 The route was downhill all the way to the town of Sébaco where the road forks left to Matagalpa and right to Managua. The forest-covered hills of the Segovias looked very beautiful in the early light of the morning, although no one seemed to notice but me. Paying a little more attention to the farmland as we approached town, it became obvious that the rice paddies I had seen on the route nnorth occupied a massive area- I would guess about 15 sq. km or more

  Arriving in the marketplace at Sébaco the bus was “attacked” from both sides by vendors trying to sell vegetables through the side windows. Delicious looking tomatoes and peppers were selling for around 50 cents to a dollar for a bag of 10. While this frontal assault was happening, other vendors swarmed into the bus trying to sell fried chicken, plantains and pastries.

 Heading east, the route was uphill all the way to Matagalpa. En route we passed dozens of coffee processing plants of various sizes. The bigger ones had large concrete pads on which the raw beans were drying in the sun. Behind them thousands of bags of dried raw coffee (about 100 pounds each) were stacked on pallets awaiting shipment. The smaller processors merely placed the beans on large black plastic sheets instead of concrete pads

 [February is the areas final month of peak coffee production which typically starts in December]

   Arriving in Matagalpa around 8:15am I escaped the madness of the bus station/market, hailing a taxi for the city centre. Needing a decent breakfast, I headed for Café Artesanos where we had eaten once or twice on our last visit. For some reason it wasn’t open so I ducked my head into Matagalpa Tours to see if anyone was there that I knew. Seeing no-one I recognized I made my way to Cafeto [kind of the Nica equivalent of a coffee bar] where a filling ham, egg and cheese croissant plus coffee set me back $2.50.

 Fully caffeinated and ready to face the day I hailed a taxi to the bus station. Squeezed in beside two nuns I wondered they might offer a little divine protection as the driver rolled through stop signs and narrowly missed ramming into opposing traffic.

 The wait for a bus to Jinotepe was all of ten minutes before it pulled out of the depot for the 34km trip. Again, before we had gone a mile the bus was rammed to maximum standing capacity and had as much stuff on the roof as it had inside.

 The initial 4km or so followed the river north and passed areas where densely packed squatter housing covered the hillsides. Constructed of corrugated steel, wood or in some cases just the black plastic from the coffee plants, it was a sharp contrast to the city centre which is fairly clean with nice looking buildings

 The road was uphill for the first 27 km, following a route which we had taken in 2009 when we visited Selva Negra [ a coffee farm/hotel set high in the hills above Matagalpa] 

Following a serpentine route along the sides of the hills we were at times looking up at massive areas of forest covered mountains, at others looking down into valleys recently planted with beans and cabbage. In some areas groves of coffee bushes could be seen, berries red and ripe, workers hand picking the fruit.

  The forests of the area are termed cloud forest due to the humidity and mistiness which often enshrouds them. Various evergreens including Cyprus, Pine and Juniper are mixed in with semi tropical trees. Many of the trees are covered in thousands of bromeliads (air plants) and mosses dangle like bunches of tattered string from the branches.

 The final 7km into Jinotega was downhill all the way with signs posted warning of dangerous curves. The engine howled down most of the way as the driver played the clutch to control his speed.

 Arriving at the southern bus station I decided to forgo the usual taxi ride to the city centre, choosing instead to walk the 1 km or so.

 Situated on a relatively flat plain at the bottom of the surrounding hills (like Esteli) the town is fairly easy to navigate, although distances can be deceptive since the blocks vary in length.

 Using Tripadvisor reviews, I had already chosen a hotel, the Hotel Kurias due to its close proximity to the city centre.

  400 cordoba a night (about $19) has given me a clean and comfortable room, with wooden tile floor, hot water shower, fan and TV. Some of the furniture looks like it was purchased from a Goodwill store, but I am only looking for a place to sleep and stash my backpack, so it will suffice.

   A quick shower- always needed after any bus ride in this country, a change of clothing and I am ready for my grand city tour!

 As is my usual habit when I hit most towns, I have 4 basic stops to make, the cathedral or main church, the central square, the market and the cemetery.

 

Two days in Esteli and not a single mosquito bite

Friday afternoon-Esteli

   Feeling the need not to take a bus ride every single day of the trip I decided to stay over in Esteli for a second night.

 I arrived around 10am yesterday morning and wandered the town centre looking for a room in one of the better, but still cheap, hotels. After getting a “ sorry we have no rooms” response from every one I resigned myself to the one high priced option in town -Hotel Los Arcos. The place is absolutely spotless with a couple of nice courtyards, hot water in the shower, clean and comfortable beds, free internet, 90 channels of mostly Spanish language TV plus free buffet breakfast in the morning. The kicker is that it is $45 a night-twice the price of the other hotels. However some of that money goes to local community projects and other charitable groups so the money is going to a good cause.

 The last time I was here, we had a total of 2 hours to explore the town, so this time a more in depth look is in order.

  The town proper is less than a kilometre wide but at least 2.5 km long. Built on a plain between various mountain ranges it is about 800 meters above sea level and is much cooler than Granada. The CA1 (Pan-American Hwy) runs through the east side of the town with the downtown core a few blocks west.

  Esteli is one of the few towns in Nicaragua that has street signage with numbered avenues running north-south and streets running east-west. In spite of that everyone resorts to standard Nica directions to identify places i.e. go 3 blocks south from the Cathedral and 2 blocks west.

 Esteli is famous for two major industries here. One is tobacco in the form of cigars, the other is leather. One can get custom leather boots or a saddle made in about a week. If a week is too long then at least 3 dozen leather shops have a large selection of ready to go stock including thousands of hand made belts. The other option would be to just steal a horse, saddle and all. There are dozens of them tethered to trees and telephone poles all over town while the riders are off doing business around town.

  There are close to 50 cigar makers in town, some producing at the rate of up to 5000 hand made cigars a day, others somewhat less.

  Today’s tour was, essentially, the same one I took on my last visit, but it was still interesting the second time around. It’s main purpose, however was to allow me the chance to buy cigars at factory cost, significantly below the price at the airport duty free.

 And NO, I don’t smoke them myself!

   Esteli has a history of conflict and was “carpet bombed” by Somoza in the late ‘70’s due to the high concentration of Sandanista guerrillas in the area.

  A small museum La Galeria de Heroes y Martires was originally one of the jails used by Somoza to house his political enemies. It is now a photographic memorial to the local men and women (many just teens) who lost their lives in the battle against Somoza’s National Guard in 1979.

  Interestingly enough, on our last visit, the museum also featured a photo display from the Contra/Sandanista Conflict (1980-1991) That display, which included photos of Ben Linder had been removed, supposedly to a safe area awaiting the construction of a special memorial. As the only documented American citizen killed by the Contra’s i.e. the American backed opposition, I suspect the display’s removal was done to sanitize history for the benefit of American tourists visiting the museum.

  [Working as an engineer developing simple hydro-electric projects in Nicaragua, Ben Linder’s life is a movie waiting to be made- a google search will give you an idea what I mean]

  Looking around the town today there is little evidence of the previous destruction. It also feels much safer than other similar sized towns, although the tour books suggest avoiding the barrios (poor suburbs)

  After checking on bus schedules this morning I walked from the northern bus depot (which, incidentally is at the south end of town!) towards the market where I spent a good half hour wandering and taking pictures of people and produce.

  A 2km hike back to the central square allowed me time to check out leather shops, snap photos of the many murals scattered through town and stop for lunch at a restaurant featuring Cuban food- Sandwich Cubano (smoked meats and cheese on a half baguette) plus chicken soup (a bowl big enough to soak your feet in!) plus a beer for $6.00.

 I also stopped at a street vegetable stand and picked up an avocado that probably weighs over a pound. That is going to be my main course for supper, with perhaps a couple of pieces of fried chicken from one of the stalls in the central square. [Got to make sure those lipid levels don’t slip too low!!]

 The bus schedule to San Raphael tomorrow is 5am, 6am, and 7am and maybe a couple more including maybe one around 1pm- that is the information I got at the bus depot. That’s what I love about this country- the attention to detail!!!

 So with that in mind, my the plan is to drag my ass out of bed at 6 and grab a taxi to the Cotran Norte and hope there is a bus heading for my destination when I get there.

Somoto Canyon-still sore two days later!

Today is Wednesday, according to my computer and my watch tells me it is 5:20pm. At the edge of my view the four faces of the town clock display 4 different times, none of which is correct.

  I arrived here (Somoto) at around 9:15am after a rather cramped, but thankfully short bus ride from Ocotal. I was able to find a hotel and check into my room, without a reservation, just shortly after 10am. Within 15 minutes I was into my room, changed and ready for a tour of the Somoto Canyon. The Canyon, some 3km long is about 100 or more feet in depth with water depths  ranging from several inches to 20 or more feet.

  The receptionist made a quick call and almost immediately a guide arrived who explained the options for the tour plus the time and endurance level needed. While a similar trip in Granada would cost in the range of $60 and require at least two people, the price was set at $20 for the 4 hour trip.

 A taxi ride brought us to the western entrance of the canyon- some 13km from town. My guide, Reynel, brought along a dry bag and two life jackets. While I did have my own dry bag, his was significantly larger than mine and was able to carry my smaller backpack, my camera and case plus my clothing which I would swap for a swim suit and tank top when we reached the base of the canyon.

 A 2km walk down a narrow rocky trail brought us to the upper (western) entrance of the canyon. Initially we scrambled over rocks on either side, occasionally wading into knee-deep water in several areas. Close to a half km in, we started getting into deeper water so Reynel loaded everything into the dry bag and we put our life jackets on. At some points the water was chest high, at others we were in water 7 to about 15 feet deep and had to swim for a hundred yards or so at a time. By this time the width of the canyon had narrowed considerably with the walls reaching 100 feet or more above the water surface.

   Scrambling onto dry rock occasionally, I was able to retrieve the camera and take photos before returning it to the safety of the dry bag. The further we got down the canyon the deeper the water and the greater the distance between dry rest stops. In some parts of the canyon we found ourselves climbing up rock faces several feet above the water. Occasionally seeking hand and foot holds, it was a close to free climbing as I wanted to get.

  Roughly ¾ of the way down the canyon a 9 foot waterfall proved to be a nerve racking “road block.”  With the aid of a rope tied to a decent size boulder, I was able to swing myself beyond the fall, releasing the rope and letting myself drop into the water some 8 feet past the waterfall. At some point during this manoeuvre my glasses took a route of their own- probably straight down to the canyon floor some 20 feet below the water surface. While I did bring an extra pair on the trip in case of any mishap, I was hoping that I wouldn’t need them.

  Luckily the most difficult parts of the journey were behind us but a few tricky steps between some fairly high boulders required that Reynel hold my hand since the bright sunlight added to the visual distortion.  The last thing I wanted to do was slip off a rock and end up bashing my head. After scrambling and swimming through a few more deep pools we reached a point where most people used the services of a rowing boat to complete the last hundred and fifty yards. While that hadn’t been in the original plans, we decided to make life easier and join a family that was taking the easy way home.

  It was a further km or so before we arrived at the man entrance gate to the canyon. With our taxi already waiting for us, Reynel paid our admission charge then we headed back to town.   

  A late lunch at a restaurant just up the street from the hotel helped replace most of the calories that I had burned off. By the time lunch was over it was close to 3pm.

  I spent the next hour and a half walking around town and of course visiting the church and strolling through the very beautiful and remarkable central park. The number and types of different plants growing there was amazing. Unlike every other park I have seen, this one did not have a bandstand. In its place was a small but decorative fountain.

 In the church, a religious festival of some type was taking place. Following a service that lasted a couple of hours, the priest led a small group of choirboys and a large following of parishioners through the streets, In the midst was a small brass band and a truck decorated with flowers and carrying three young children representing Joseph and Mary and, perhaps a shepherd. Considering the date, the significance of the whole thing was lost on me. Nor could the people at the hotel shed any light on the matter. There is a procession, which normally takes place on the 8^th of every month to commemorate a day when a local shepherd experienced a “vision of the Virgin Mary” while alone in his field.

 [While many comments spring to mind, I will reserve judgement on that one!]

    Tomorrow, the plan is to continue a little further south, stopping at Esteli for at least two nights, with the hope that I can arrange a one-day tour of Miraflor and perhaps a cigar factory tour

Dave's Top Ten List

JUST TO LIGHTEN THINGS UP A BIT- here is a little aside from the travelogues

While travelling in Nicaragua here are the Top Ten Signs you should be looking for another hotel.

Number 10: The comforter on the bed is thicker than the mattress

Number 9: The toilet and sink are both supplied by the same bucket and barrel

Number 8: The wanted posters at the police station look a lot like the staff

Number 7: The screens on the windows let in more bugs than light

Number 6: The family rooster’s favourite perch is the chair in front of your room

Number 5: The church next door has two bell towers and a 6 am mass

Number 4:  The mosquito net has bigger holes than your socks

Number 3:  The desk clerk asks you how many hours you want the room for.

Number 2:  The roaches are big enough to rearrange the furniture. (And the maid isn’t!)

And the number one reason to find a different hotel in Nicaragua is:

     The desk clerk asks “ Will that be cash or cocaine?”

North to Ocotal

Tuesday morning, Managua

A healthy buffet breakfast of fruit, cereals, made to order egg dishes and coffee was included - in the price of the room.

  After eating my fill, I packed my bags and grabbed a taxi on the highway for the Mercardo Mayoreo, the main bus terminal for northbound buses. The place was a hive of activity – a dozen bus bays- 6 per side of a central steel roofed building where people waited, vendors sold ‘stuff’ and ticket booths doled out tickets to a dozen destinations, I had just missed a bus so bought a ticket for the 11:15 Express to Ocotal, some 240km north of Managua. While I waited, food vendors offered me everything from ice-cream bars to fried chicken on a tortilla.

 The difference between an expresso and an ordinario is not just the saving in time, The expressos are, typically free of the annoying food vendors who seem to get on and off at every other stop selling foods that would make a cardiologist smile. If the gastro upset doesn’t kill you, the cholesterol will. Many of the vendors look like they eat what they cant sell- making it even more crowded in the aisles when people are standing. Only one group were allowed on about halfway through the trip- one a boy selling crispy fried slices of banana. That is normally something I would eat, except these ones looked like they had been fried in used motor oil. Another vendor was a girl with a bucket full of boiled corn. The sweet but rather sickly stale smell indicated that it had been overcooked or perhaps re-boiled from yesterday’s leftovers.

  The bus followed the Lake Managua shoreline east for a half hour before turning north onto the CA1- the Trans American Highway. The lake was clearly at an excessively high level as various plantations of palms and bananas, normally along the shore, were awash in lake water The first part of  the route followed a path due north through some parched flatlands with little greenery to be seen. The colour began to return to the landscape as we passed the town of Sebaco where the road forks- left to Esteli and right (east) to Matagalpa.

  A short time latter we passed a large flat expanse of wetland which was, in fact, a series of rice paddies. Unusual perhaps but not that surprising given the amount of rice that most Nicas consume

 Ahead the mountainous region known as the Segovias could be seen and the bus was forced to slow considerably as it laboured up some of the slopes.

  By 1:40pm we had reached Esteli, famous for cowboy boots and cigars. The highway skirted the eastern side of the town, which seems to have grown a couple of large hotels since my last visit.

 Continuing north we entered into an area with some extremely high hills/mountains on either side. The ones to the east are part of the Miraflor nature reserve, one of the most popular natural attractions of the country. Home to various species of birds and mammals, several types of orchid, it is essentially a co-operative owned and operated by several hundred individual family farm owners. If time permits Iwill try to arrange a day trip on my return trip south.

  We arrived at he town of Ocotal shortly after 3pm, stopping at the main bus station at the south end of town. A quick taxi ride brought me to my home for the night, a small but clean hospitaje the Hotel  El Viejero. Family operated and having about 6 habitable rooms (some are being renovated following an addition) I have a room with fan, TV and private bathroom for less than $7 a night. I could have splurged and stayed at Hotel Frontera which has a pool. The book showed rates of $45 but when I asked them later they quoted me $22. By then I was already moved into my 0.5 star!

   The main attraction in Ocotal from my point of view is the central park and church, the later being, arguably, the most beautiful in the country. Called the Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de la Asuncion its construction began in 1804. Of adobe construction it’s altar area seems to glow with a soft blue light and the impressive wooden ceiling looks like someone waxes it daily.

  The church grounds, enclosed by a low stone wall topped with wrought iron fencing also look impressive with a mix of various plants and trees offering both shade and beauty.

  In front of the church, is the park, with its central bandstand and its own share of greenery.  Couples sneak in a little bit of practise doing CPR! while old men reminisce and shoeshine boys waste their time, as most passers-by seem to be vinyl and nylon clad these days!

  With most of the key sights essentially seen, I will probably make this a one-night stop and catch a bus to Somoto in the morning. It’s claim to fame is a fairly impressive but not Grand!, canyon some miles west of town.

  With 6pm approaching, it is time to find some passable- yes that can be taken two ways- food in town. The lady of the house recommended La Yunta for a decent sopa de pollo.

8;30

La Yunta, while offering a decent but overpriced ($10) chicken with mushroom sauce, had no chicken soup. In fact they had no soup at all. Many restaurants seem to avoid soup as a menu item because it tends to be cheap, and with a couple of tortillas is often sufficient for a meal.

 A quick walk around the town centre was sufficient exercise for one day. The town doesn’t have the most well lit streets and I am still a little nervous of walking alone. [Of late I often carry a couple of half-pound rocks with jagged edges in the bottom of my Apotex cloth bag!- just for that extra bit of protection]

A quick glance in through many of the open doorways indicates that a good number of the homes here, while appearing OK from the outside are less so internally. Dirt floors and no doors separating rooms and in some cases no rooms, per say, just one big communal living space. While not exactly my idea of a place I would want to live, most of these people have probably had nothing else to compare it with.

Monday night in Managua- no bucket needed!

THE Camino Real with Casino, Managua. A swimming pool, hot water in the shower and a toilet that doesn’t require a bucket flush is definitely a step in the right direction after my last few days.

  Monday morning,the alarm went off at 5am and 10 minutes later the hotel had a pot of coffee, warm bread with butter and jam waiting for my arrival on the dining deck. At 5:30 they paddled me and my gear over to the town dock in the hotel’s small kayak.

  Don Julio was waiting to see me off and helped me load my bags onto the boat when it arrived. Due to complications the night before the 6am fast boat had been taken out of service, so my ride was now the slow boat.

  As a result I just missed the 8am to Managua. Not wanting to wait for the 11:15, I boarded a bus marked as heading for Juigalpa.5 punishing hours late they had me get off the bus 10km south of Juigalpa since the bus was, in fact, heading for El Rama- about 60 km due east. With the first 20km of the trip being potholes linked by rocks sticking up and the next 50 odd being mud gravel and the odd bit of crushed stone, I was more than glad to find myself standing by the side of the road for a while.

  To cut a long story short, I eventually got to Juigalpa where I had lunch, photographed the impressive town square and cathedral, took some shots of the hills northeast of town then tried to hop a bus to Boaco, a town an hour north.

  With no buses coming through town marked for Boaco, I gave up and hopped a bus to Managua, getting out on the airport road by this hotel some 14 hours after I got up.

  After relaxing in the bar for an hour while checking a weeks worth of e-mails, I had a spaghetti dinner, did some laundry and made plans for the next week and a half.

  My hope is that tomorrow I will catch an express bus for Ocotal, the most northerly town of any significance. Based on what I see there, I will slowly make my way back south taking in Somoto, Esteli, Jinotega, Matagalpa and maybe Boaco before heading back through Managua and down, once again to Granada.

Last night on the Rio San Juan

The 10am slow boat arrived on time and the trip to El Castillo lasted about 40 minutes.

  Once the boat docked I headed uphill to visit the fortress while Marissa and another girl we met on the boat set off in search of cheap lodging. A small museum at the entrance to the fort told the history of it’s purpose, construction and the various battles against pirates- the pirates typically being mostly heroic characters from English history, like Sir Francis Drake. For once the Spanish signage was accompanied with a smaller but passable English translation.

 A few cannon balls, some old cannons and even some parts retrieved from old sunken steamships were scattered around the museum area. Steamships were used on the river during the time of the California Gold Rush as a means of crossing from the east to the west coast of the USA- it was apparently safer and faster than a land crossing of the USA. At one point there was even the thought of using the Rio San Juan and Lake Nicaragua as an alternative to the Panama Canal. Somehow Panama won out and the rest is history.

 The fortress itself contains very little in terms of its original internal structure. A few broken walls remain to show the locations of structures like the church and living quarters. The external walls, obviously restored, are complete and show the fortress as it would have appeared to anyone considering an attack on its formidable location.

The view over the surrounding countryside and the rapids is spectacular, clearly showing why its builders chose that particular site.

  After leaving the fort I spent some time exploring the main street-  a paved pathway of approximately 8 feet in width which paralleled the river for about a km. There are no motorized vehicles in the town so people walk or bike. A variety of hotels and hospitajes offer accommodation from as little as $4 to $60 a night while meals range from $2 to $20 in the various snack bars and restaurants.

  With boats operating on a reduced Sunday schedule I made sure to catch the 2pm boat back to Sabalos in order to avoid being trapped for the evening.

  The boat back was packed, with some people standing and by the time we arrived in Sabalos another 40 or more people were waiting to climb aboard for the trip to San Carlos.

  Tonight my hotel is completely vacant except for myself. As I write this a chorus of frogs up and down both sides of the river are jack hammering their mating call to one another. Across the river the lights of the town are subdued compared to last night, Obviously Sunday night is time for some rest after a weekend of too much partying.

  My plans are to get up at 5am in order to catch the express boat that leaves around six and which will hopefully have a spot for me. With Managua a further 8 hour bus ride away, I wont be staying up too late tonight.

  

           

Indio Maiz Jungle Reserve- Saturday

My 5:30 alarm wasn’t needed due to the 5 pm wake up call of howlers monkeys on the south bank of the river and the clumsy bumbling of two French fishermen dropping their fishing gear as they made their way past my room to their waiting boat,

  Coffee was waiting for me when I made my way to the front of the hotel and by the time the clock had rolled around to 5:45 Don Julio was waiting for me down by the hotel dock.

 After paddling back to town to pick up Marissa we set off down the Rio San Juan for the town of El Castillo. The trip took a little over an hour and a half as we paddled from bank to bank observing the scenery.

  Rounding the final bend of the river, the fortress appeared as a large and very impressive stone citadel looming over the surrounding village. Built in 1602 to protect the area from pirates, the fortress is featured in many tourist posters of Nicaragua but is visited by relatively few tourists.

  Trading our canoe for a 25 foot panga [wide, flat-bottomed boat, traditionally dugouts but now often fibreglass ] we “rented” rubber boots from a store in town, ordered our lunch in advance at one of the hotels and grabbed a couple of coffees at Borders Coffee

( no relation to the bookstore)

 After skirting the Radel El Diablo ( the Devil’s Rapids) we continued down the river for close to an hour before pulling to the north bank at the mouth of the Rio Bartola. There we had to register at the military post before we were allowed to enter the reserve. We spent two hours hiking through jungle/rain forest in an area known as the Refugio de Vida Silvestre. Essentially a two-mile border of the Indio-Maiz Biosphere it is as close as one can get to an Amazon experience without actually going to the Amazon. As we walked we could hear torrential rain above us, but the canopy was so tight that nothing reached ground level. Unfortunately the rain drove most of the local wildlife undercover so we saw little in the way of animal movement.

  Returning to the military post we pulled off our muddied footwear and rejoined our boat operator for a trip up the Rio Bartola to observe a variety of birds, monkeys and aquatic mammals which they called pero de agua  (water dogs) but were unable to offer an English equivalent name.

 Upon returning to El Castillo town, we enjoyed an impressive lunch of fish and “river lobster’ The latter looked like crayfish but the tail section held about 50gm of meat so was more like a small lobster. Time did not permit a visit to the fortress proper- that’s first on tomorrow’s agenda.

   Our ride back to town involved tossing our (borrowed) canoe on top of the “mailboat” i.e. the 2pm slow boat to San Carlos then riding in the same back to Sabalos.

  By the time I returned to the hotel, to clean up wash clothing and shower, it was close to 4pm. Recognizing one of the boats from La Esquina, I was surprised to see the two Canadian couples and their fishing guides arriving for supper and an overnight stay at the hotel. Somewhat disappointed with the service and food quality after I left, they have all but convinced me not to return there as I had originally planned. Perhaps instead, a change of hotel and a day exploring another Reserve/Sanctuary or perhaps an early start to my trip North.

 

 

Hotel Sabalos, Rio San Juan, Nicaragua

Another day, another world. – Hotel Sabalos-Jan 28^th late afternoon.

The Rio San Juan rolls slowly by the deck in front of my hotel room. The river is now bathed in the glow of bright sunlight as a ceiling of ugly grey clouds moves off to the west.. Five minutes ago the river was a barely visible through a curtain of torrential rain, which seemed to come out of nowhere but lasted a scant 10 minutes before continuing on its journey west.

  Leaving the lodge ( La Esquina) this morning, I landed at the San Carlos dock with a good hour to spare. The lodge staff wanted to make sure that I was able to get a ticket for the fast boat downstream. Leaving at 10:30 it made the trip in just under an hour and a half. A launch roughly 30 feet long, it held about 20 passengers and covered the distance smoothly but much too quickly to obtain any good photos of the scenery. The view from the boat was of mostly rain forest and jungle for the first 15-20 km of the trip. As we progressed east the jungle of the south side was occasionally interrupted by small fishing villages -(small houses at the waters edge built on stilts) and the odd farm. The northern shore, again primarily rainforest/jungle eventually gave way to more arable land with fields of corn and flatlands where cattle grazed.

  My destination today, Boca de Sabalos (literally- the mouth of the Sabalos river) is a town of 1200 people located 40 km down the river from San Carlos and approx. 7km east of my main focal point of the trip- the town of El Castillo. My chosen hotel, the Hotel Sabalos is  built on stilts and overhangs the north bank of the river while the actual dock and main part of town is on the south. After retrieving my packs from the boat I spent a half hour checking out the various tiendas and comidors that seemed to make up the main street. Deciding to eat before heading for my hotel, I selected a hospitaje/ comidor which had been recommended by my guide book. I asked for a menu and was told their wasn’t one. I then asked what they had to eat and was told fish or pork, Ok I said,’’ I will have the fish with some rice, a little salad and some tostones.”(fried unripe plantains) The pork, when it arrived was somewhat overcooked and rather chewy. I knew I should have ordered the fish!!!!!!!!!!!

  I asked the waitress how much it was and she responded fayfteen. I asked her to repeat and she again said fayfteen. So I responded in Spanish Qince (15))Cordoba only to receive a rather snotty Cinqunta (50) not my fault she couldn’t differentiate between 15 and 50!

 After my decent but incorrect meal I wandered back to the dock to find that my hotel shuttle was a rowboat operated by a somewhat disgruntled (I hate my effing job was written all over her face) hotel employee. As I climbed into the boat a local character approached me by the name of Don Julio, who in a former life must have sold fridges to the Eskimos.

 In short order he arranged for me to join him for a tour of the pueblo while detailing the various guide services he had available.

 Hook, line and sinker,,,,,,,!! After checking in at the hotel-and being shown a $15, 20 and $25  room  ( I chose the latter) I enjoyed a beer on the hotel deck while watching the river and the odd boat roll by.

  The tour of town was primarily a pitch for more expensive tours downriver. But his English was more than passable and his knowledge of the community allowed me to gain some real insight into the workings of his small town.

 At the end of the tour we joined up with a young university grad named Marissa who had arrived on the same boat. Together we planned a tour for the following morning, negotiating a price that we could live with.

  With our trip finalized we spent a couple of hours sipping cervesas while we watched the sun sink into the jungle. Marissa had been travelling for a little longer than me and had started her journey in San Salvador, so we swapped travel stories and information about our experiences.

  By the time we were ready to head back to our respective hotels the river was a thick black band with few lights to indicate the opposite shore or the hotel. The ride across in a small dugout reminded me of the mythological ride across the river Styx, so I made sure I didn’t pay the ferryman his 10 Cordoba ( 50 cents ) until I was safely on the other side.

   I spent the balance of my evening enjoying a supper of fried fish while listening to the sound of distant frogs warbling to their mates while rain showers rattled off the roof of the hotel.