Granada

Writing last Tuesday:
Going to the market today was a little more of an event than usual....
After a lunch out, Chet and I decided to go to the market to get vegetables for dinner.  We have been going to the market generally around 4 in the afternoon.  By that time, the market is generally winding down. So we thought we'd go check it a little sooner than later today. As we walked down the street towards the mercado, we began to be aware of a commotion ahead. We passed two police diverting cars (but not pedestrians) from the road and then we saw it...smoke slowly creeping out of the upper story of the building that partially houses the market (some of the vendors have booths inside the building while others line the street next to the building). Then Chet pointed out the cause of the smoke. Electrical lines had somehow melted or snapped and were spraying sparks all over the tin roof where the sparks then rebounded to the wooden frame of the building. Within minutes, we began to see flames hungrily licking the upper story. As the fire began to rage, people stood in the streets watching the scene unfold or hurriedly packed up their wares, closing shop as quickly as possible. At a loss of what to do, we headed back to our hostel, only a block away. The hostel smelled horridly of a melted electrical smoke that had drifted over from the fire. We excitedly relayed the news to Wyatt...the market is on FIRE! 'Should we go check it out?' was his reply. And with that we grabbed our cameras and headed back out.  After what must have been a half hour since the electrical lines started sparking, the power was finally shut off and the fire trucks finally arrived. By the time we'd gone back out to rubber neck and take pictures like the rest of the crowd, the flames had died out, but the building continued to billow a gnarly, noxious smoke (luckily the wind was blowing the smoke away from us!). After watching the progress for a bit, we decided to move on. Almost an hour or two later, we headed back.  The building was roped off, but you could still walk in the adjacent alley where a few vendors had reopened for business. So we bought our veggies for salsa and went home. And that's that!

Smoke billowing out of the tall market place building down the street.

The markets we've been going to in Nicaragua are open air mazes of precariously constructed booths with vendors selling everything you could need from fruit and veggies to flip flops to bulk rice and beans and dog food to even meat and fish. There are a few grocery stores around, but the produce is much better in the local markets. It is so crazy to me; the vendors all sell the same things, competing for business. The veggie people all sell the same type of Roma tomato and onion. The fruit people all sell bananas, mandarins, limes, and mangoes. Doesn't seem like the most logical business plan to me...to all sell the same thing. But that's how it's done here I guess.

Yesterday, we went to the craziest of all markets for a day trip.  Renowned for its markets, Masaya is a town about 30 minutes away from Granada. Hot and sweaty from the ride on the chicken bus, we arrived in Masaya...in the middle of a gigantic, tent city maze of a market. It was crazy, overwhelming, and amazing. The smell was pretty intense too with a mixture of fish and meat that had been warmed by the heat. After walking around for awhile, trying to find our way through the never ending maze, we decided to walk to the local artisan market. Once again, everyone was selling similar things, but we all bought a couple souvenirs anyway. Later, we walked down to the water front, which was a very high cliff with a wonderful view of the crater lake below, Laguana Masasya. Unfortunately, we found out later that that lake is extremely polluted from the nearby city and factories dumping their wastewater there for many years.

Writing several days later.....
While in Granada, we took several other day trips as well as wondered around the beautiful town.  One day, we headed up to Laguana Apoyo (another volcanic crater lake, but not polluted) for a beach day and rented some kayaks. Another day, we took an afternoon/night tour of Volcan Masaya. The volcano is still active and one of its craters spews sulfurous gases. The tour took us to see all the different craters (there are 4 different craters, but two are inactive), told us the history of the volcano and other fun facts, and took us into a lava tube/bat cave. It was all really cool and I'm glad we did the tour instead of going up by ourselves. Our other days in Granada were spent wandering the colonial style town. All of the buildings were very tall and colorful, and went right up to the sidewalk, making the town seem small and somewhat claustrophobic. But, if you got high enough up above the roofs, you could see that all the buildings had little courtyard areas and the buildings went much deeper into the block than one expected from first glance on the street.

One day while walking around we passed a barberia. On an impulse Wyatt and I decided to get haircuts. I pointed to a picture of the style I more or less wanted and away we went. The buzzer kept clogging up as my hair was rather long but the guy did a great job, finishing up with a flat-edged razor. It was probably the fastest, most professional, and least expensive (40 cordobas~$1.50) haircut I've ever had. With a large pile of hair on the floor, I left feeling lighter and very satisfied.

Church in Granada. Note the front is only a facade!

All the buildings were so colorful there.

Cathedral in Granada. 

Laguana Masaya 

Laguana Apoyo 

Active Masaya volcano. 

View of Granada and Volcan Mombacho from a church bell tower.

Love,
Karen and Chet

Isla Ometepe!

We are now on Isla Ometepe in the middle of Lake Nicaragua (sometimes known as Cocibolca Lake). It took us half a day of traveling from San Juan del Sur to get here with many transportation changes along the way. First was a chicken bus from San Juan to Rivas. The bus dropped us on the side of the highway...we thought we would be dropped at the bus station...drat.  The moment we got off the bus we were approached by some taxi drivers,but not just any taxi drivers...bicycle taxi drivers.  Not wanting to walk all the way across town to the bus station, we decided to go the four kilometers to the ferry in the bike taxi. Half serious and joking, Wyatt at one point asked if he could try riding the bicycle. Our driver replied with his consent. Climbing aboard the bike, Wyatt got the hang of it after only a couple foibles. He said it was much harder than he expected since the cover of the rickshaw acted as a sail in the steady wind and that the steering was super touchy. After a few minutes and safely maneuvering us through a construction zone, Wyatt was done and handed control back to the driver. After an hour and a half wait on the dock in little San Jorge, we boarded a ferry to Ometepe. The lake was pretty rough from the wind but thankfully we were on a big enough boat that we didn't really feel it except for the side to side sway. A long long time ago, when Chet came here with his family, he said they took a smaller boat to the island, one that each time the boat hit a wave, the boards seemed to move and rub against each other as if the boat was going to fall apart (He thought he was going to die on that boat). But not to worry you...we took a very sturdy metal, three story ferry made in the Netherlands (all the signs were in Dutch still!)  And so we made it to Ometepe after a long ride. I like the ferry. It's kind of a break from the madness on both land sides, just a slow toodle across the water watching the scenery go by very slowly.  As soon as you get off the ferry though, you are suddenly jerked from that dreamy serenity back into the hustle and bustle of the land bound world, with multitudes of taxi drivers vying for your attention.

After talking to the bus people, we found that we would have to take the bus way out of our way, switches buses, and then finally be on the right track to our destination.  For only a couple dollars more and in a LOT less time, we opted for a taxi. We are staying at a hostel in the very small town of Santa Cruz (all the towns on the island are pretty dang tiny).

Ometepe is comprised of two volcanoes, the active Volcan Concepcion and the non-active Volcan Maderas. We are staying on the non active one :)  But we do have a pretty killer view of the active one right from our porch at our hostel and can even see it smoking away in the afternoon once it has shed its morning cloud cloak. Ometepe is part of the "Ring of Fire" chain of volcanoes that go up the Pacific coast of North and South America and down the Pacific coast of eastern Asia.

On our first afternoon here, we walked down to Playa Santo Domingo. At first glance, the beach looks like an ocean side beach on a calm day, with little wind waves rolling in and you can't see the other side of the like so it looks like the ocean. But on closer inspection, the water is not salty like the ocean, the waves are very small, and one can just make out the land on the other side of the lake.

The rough water leaving the mainland for Ometepe.

The second day here...we had the adventure of adventures.  We decided to hike the non active volcano, Maderas. Chet, Wyatt, and I are all pretty good hikers, having hiked and backpacked a bunch back home so we felt prepared to hike the mountain. To be honest, we weren't in the greatest hiking shape so we were pretty dang sore in the legs today. But anyways, we hiked a volcano! Over ten years ago, several different people died hiking the volcanoes, so it is now required to hire a guide if you want to hike the mountains.  Through our hostel, we set up a tour with a guide.  There is a local union of tour guides here that trains the guides in survival skills and the trails of the mountains. Our guide, Gerald, was a little reserved at first and taking it a little slow.  Later when we'd finally gotten back to our hostel, we found out it was his fifth time this week and his 1263rd ascent of Maderas (AND he's climbed the other, taller volcano over 800 times!). Over his nine years as a hiking guide, he has accumulated many stories. One being where after he had led a tour, he drank some beers with his hiking group, and then fell asleep in a hammock (the hostel has several hammocks around), waking up around 3 AM. After walking home in the complete darkness and not wanting to get in a fight, he told his wife that the group just took a really long time to hike the mountain this time....

Back to the hiking...Maderas is about 1400 meters high (4200 feet) with a lake that resides in the caldera at the top. We started at about 8:30 in the morning and made it back to our hostel around 5:30 pm, an all day hike to be sure. The first half of the hike was mostly dry and open with spectacular views of the island whereas the second half was very muddy and shrouded in forest. There are three different paths that can be used to hike the volcano. Unfortunately, we didn't get to take the one that lead to the lake in the interest of time. But we did get to go to a pretty awesome view point above the lake. The ascent of the volcano was pretty steep and slippery; there were no switch backs in the trail and it was very muddy. We made it though, albeit shoes thoroughly coated in mud! On the way back down the volcano, our guide was feeling much better and was flying down the hillside. Going down is not my favorite part with the havoc it wreaks on one's knees and feet (especially if you're not wearing proper hiking boots). Our guide later mentioned that we had to go down the hill very fast to get down before sunset since we didn't have lights.  Even though we were all pretty sore today, it was so awesome to get out and stretch the legs with a nice and strenuous hike.

Yours truly looking over the lake at the top of the caldera.

View of the other volcano during our hike of Maderas.

Giant fern 'monkey's tail'.

Tomorrow we are going to Granada, a couple hours away.
We will keep you updated!
Love,
Karen and Chet

San Juan - Part 2

We ended up staying two more days in San Juan del Sur. One day we hiked down the beach and climbed up the bluffs to a giant Jesus statue that overlooks the bay and the town. To get to the statue from the beach we took the back way. We walked out on the rocks and tucked in among the cliffs was a decrepit stairway falling off the bluff. We climbed up the stairs and followed a forgotten walkway up to the statue. It was an eerie setting of a place that had been rapidly prepared for development and then forgotten. The walkway was half buried under dirt and leaves and the road looked unused. There were plateaus formed from the empty lots that never sold. And then there were a few enormous mansions built on the hillside forming a strange dichotomy among the abandonment of the majority of the lots.

The northern part of the beach and the decaying staircase.

Nature slowly reclaiming what man has built.

The statue was impressive but not as impressive as the viewpoint offered by the overlook. You could see the bay, the town, and the massive cruise ship anchored offshore with the tenders shuttling passengers ashore. The wind was howling at that height, making it difficult to talk, hear, and even walk at times. We stayed at the top for about half an hour taking it all in and then headed down out of the wind.

Wyatt at the Jesus overlook.

San Juan from above looking southeast.

Jesus

The next day I tried to find our family friend Carmen. I found out where her house was and went to pay her a visit. She wasn't home but I talked to her daughter who remembered me and she told me that Carmen was at the hospital. She said Carmen would be returning either that afternoon or the next morning. Unfortunately, we were leaving the next morning so I never got to see her.

The church at San Juan.

The market building. This is where we got all our fresh fruits and veggies. Currently they are hand digging new water lines. It is quite the project with the streets flooding every once in awhile.

Our last evening there, we climbed up the bluffs on the southern side of San Juan. We found an old fort of some kind and a lighthouse. It was a very hot and dry hike but also very beautiful. On the way back down we walked through town and I took some pictures of the places I remembered from when I was there 15 years ago.

San Juan from above looking north with the church on the right hand side.

The very hot and dry hike.

An old ruin at the top of the bluffs.

The creepy old lighthouse.

San Juan has changed a lot. For better or for worse, it is now one of the main destinations for both foreigners and locals to visit in Nicaragua. It is very much a different town from the sleepy fishing village that I visited as a child. I found that although it was a different town, San Juan was still a charming place to visit. I hope that with all the increased attention it does not lose that charm.

The post office.

Horses are still very common on the streets here.

The street I used to live on back in 1999.

My old house.

Till later,
Chet

San Juan Del Sur, Nicaragua

We splurged and caught a a taxi from Popoyo all the way to San Juan del Sur. We really didn't feel in the mood for a day of traveling via a cramped, overheated bus. The taxi ride was an adventure in itself. Once in the car, the driver switched his music over to songs in English. I guess he was trying to make us comfortable but instead it was kind of awkward. The music consisted of very graphic and quite vulgar rap lyrics. I smiled, trying to imagine what he would think if he knew what the rap music was saying.

Twenty minutes down the road we got flagged down by the traffic police. A routine traffic stop. Unfortunately our driver couldn't find all his paperwork. The cop seemed unconcerned, texting on his phone while waiting. Our driver finally said, "Oh here it is!", handed the cop fifty cordobas ($2), and we were on our way. Five minutes later we were flagged to the side at yet another traffic checkpoint (I'm pretty sure the first cop told the.second one to be sure to flag us over for a "random" check). Our driver exclaimed, "No es mi dia." and rolled down the window. This time he didn't even look for the paperwork. He simply slipped another 50 cordobas into his palm and shook the policeman's hand calling out "Hola hermano!". The policeman smiled and waved us past.

Eventually we made it to San Jaun del Sur. We paid the taxi driver and wandered around until we found a hostel. I (Chet) was here 16 years ago. We walked around the town a bit. I didn't recognize much from what I remembered of the town. San Juan has seen a lot of development over the last decade and a half. The market is more or less the same and the church is still there. Other than that though it was like being in a different place entirely. All things change with time and San Juan is no exception.

The town seemed eerily quiet. There is now capacity for a lot of tourists to come and stay and for people to come and live. However the establishments were at low capacity, the restaurants were empty and the beach was deserted. I wonder if we are simply here at a relatively quiet time of year? Or perhaps there was a boom of development but the tourists stopped coming or never came in the numbers that were anticipated.

Wyatt and I set off to try and sell our surfboards. We are heading inland away from surf for the remainder of our travels so it was time we sold our boards. We went to one surf shop and haggled for awhile but came to no consensus. We didn't really like the guys and they refused to pay what we considered a fair price. So we left. We put for sale signs on our boards and sat outside our hostel the rest of the day. Unfortunately there just weren't all that many people walking around.

The next day we went to another surf shop. This one was run by a very friendly local guy who was born and raised in San Juan, We haggled a bit and finally agreed on a fair price, plus lunch from the restaurant next door. We sat down and ate "cerdo con papas" and sipped on a cold lemonade while we waited for the shop keeper to go to the bank.

We got to talking and I asked about some people I used to know here in San Juan. Not only did he know of them but one was his neighbor! I am going to try and find her tomorrow.

That's all for now,

Chet and Karen

Psychological Doldrums Among the Windstorm

Popoyo is known to be a windy place. Nicaragua's large inland lake and a warm ocean offshore create a wind system that channels air off the coast nearly everyday of the year. Our first few days in Popoyo it was windy but still manageable. I could still surf early mornings or late afternoons when the wind died down some. During the day we walked the beach and looked for shells.

On our third night here the wind increased intensity to a whole new level. It didn't die down for three days, not even at night. Karen and I took to wearing earplugs at night because the wind made such a loud wailing noise whistling through the trees and around the house. The ocean turned into a frothy white mush. The beach had mini haboobs blowing down it. Sand walls about ten feet high stung our backs as we walked along. Being outside in the wind was not much fun. We were confined more or less to our house and cabin fever started to sink in.

Our digs. Wyatt's room on the left, Karen and I upstairs.

The kitchen/table. It's a sweet spot.

The classic Nicaraguan shower (a pipe out of the wall).

To entertain ourselves we made banana bread, tried to make kites, and played trivia. The highlight of our days was catching the fruit truck and planning our meals. One afternoon Wyatt and I paddled out to the beach break. The wind was so intense it was a challenge to stay in one spot. The spray off the back of the waves was like a downpour of pea-sized drops that pelted your face and chest. We caught a few waves and began to get cold. The water was much colder than Costa Rica from the wind blowing over it all the time. The wind chill plus the cooler water made it hard to stay out for more than an hour.

Our kites, neither of which flew.

The water was still very refreshing to jump into though. It is an arid, desert-like climate here and the days are very hot. We would brave the wind and make it to the beach at least once a day to cool down. After several days of heavy wind, the beach had changed. All the loose dry sand was gone and only a hard crust and larger grained sand remained. The beach was covered in intricate patterns formed by the wind and was quite beautiful to look at.

Dropping into a windy, small right-hander, beach break.

Frothy, windy, surf.

Today the wind has finally died down some. We went for a walk on the beach this afternoon and saw a sea turtle come ashore and lay its eggs. Unfortunately we weren't the only ones. Some locals saw it too and promptly dug the eggs out from under it before it even finished laying. We felt rather helpless but who were we, three white gringos to tell the locals what they can or cannot do. We had to walk away. It was a difficult moment.

Beautiful creature.

It is our last day here. Tomorrow we are off to San Juan del Sur.

Hope all is well back home,

Chet and Karen

A gecko. These guys are all over our walls and they chirp all night long.

Popoyo, Nicaragua

From Santa Teresa, we decided to head to Nicaragua for the last month of our trip.  As per the usual, this required two strenuous days of travel before we arrived at our destination of Popoyo, Nicaragua. Funny thing is, the places we're traveling to aren't super far apart. It just takes a chunk of time to travel around here due to our modes of transportation and the infrastructure.  First of all, we've been mainly traveling by bus (with a ferry thrown in on the last trip).  It is pretty awesome that you can catch a bus to most places for fairly cheap. But it can cost you time as in the case with the jam-packed chicken buses that stop a lot to let people off and that don't go very fast because they are over loaded.

Wind turbines by lake Cocibolca. Nicaragua is a very windy place.

Also, roads. For most of the major traveling between countries, we have ended up on the Pan American Highway. The Pan American is a regal idea, stretching from the top of North America to the tip of South America. The road is over 30,000 miles long, but not fully connected due to one completely impassable section of jungle in Panama known as the Darien Gap (If you haven't heard of it, look it up. The Darien is a crazy place). You'd think that a road as important sounding as that would be quite the thoroughfare. While it does pass a lot of traffic, it is mainly just a narrow, two-lane road throughout Central America.

We caught a bus from Santa Teresa to another bus, then the ferry, then another bus which dropped us on the side of the Pan American. We crossed the highway and hopped on yet another bus which took us to the border of Costa Rica and then beyond to the small city of Rivas, Nicaragua.

We stayed the night at Hostel Lidia. It was a clean and quiet place run by a soft speaking elderly woman (Lidia?). She talked very softly and slowly to the point where it was a challenge to hear and understand her. We went out and got some street food that night. It was typical Nicaraguan cuisine: chicken, pinto de gallo (rice and beans mixed), fried plantain chips, and a cabbage salad. To drink we had a pineapple drink that was so sweet it made you more thirsty rather than quench your thirst. The total for the meal was about $3.50/each.

The next morning we got up, had breakfast at the same place as the night before and walked to the market. The Rivas market consisted of several streets of small shops selling everything under the sun. These same streets were also lined with street vendors hawking fresh produce and other food stuffs. The streets were packed with not only the vendors and customers but also cars, trucks, bicycle taxis, horses, and cows all traveling through as well. Needless to say it was a busy place. We stocked up on food for heading out to Popoyo for about a week.

Once we had our food, we grabbed our bags and went to the bus terminal. There we were accosted by a man trying to get us to take a taxi instead of the bus. When Wyatt and I ignored him he focused his attentions on Karen, calling "chica blanca!". The taxi salesman had gotten the impression that Karen was the only one in our group who spoke spanish because she kept telling him "no gracias". He concentrated his efforts on her telling all kinds of lies to try to get us to go "There isn't a bus, ok there is a bus but the buses are dangerous, you wont get there until after dark, the bus doesn't leave until four...(it left at eleven)". Finally he left and a different man approached us who had been watching the show, and told us which bus to get on.

The bus was what people call a "chicken bus" because it is not unusual to see live chickens on board as luggage. The bus was a yellow old school bus from the states modified with a roof rack and a grab pole down the aisle for standing passengers. It was packed full of people and goods. The roof was loaded down with 50 kg bags of beans, rice, and grains that people were taking back to the country along with other purchases made in Rivas. We nervously handed up our backpacks and surfboards to the man on the roof and stepped on board.

The bus ride was a long and sweaty one, down a paved road and then onto a bumpy dirt one. We inched our way slowly up hills and then sped down the other side. We passed farmland, men on horses driving cattle, carts pulled by oxen, and monkeys in the trees overhead as we slowly made our way towards Popoyo. At one point the bus had to stop and honk for some cows to get out of the road.

Finally after 2.5 hours (felt more like 5) we got off on the side of the road and a minivan pulled up to shuttle us to another crossroads. Words fail to describe how packed this van was. It was a comical scene. There were 16 people inside the van and another 5 on the roof. Then there was the luggage and the 50 kg bags of beans. The tires of the van were bulging out from all the weight. Karen and I hopped inside and Wyatt hopped on top. The roof of the van was visibly buckling and swaying as we drove along the bumpy dirt road at a snails pace. You could hear and smell the hot engine straining from the load. (Wyatt got a picture of the van as well as other stuff mentioned in this post.)

It is a long 45 km from Rivas to Popoyo.

Fifteen minutes later we got dropped off at another crossroads and started walking towards our destination about a mile away. The walk from the crossroads was a hot and dusty one.  Not knowing how far we needed to walk with all our heavy bags and food made the walk all the more strenuous in the blazing sun. Wyatt joked that we had been dropped off in the desert, humming the tune to A Horse with No Name by the band America.

After profuse sweating and walking for over 20 minutes, an old woodie station wagon rolls down the dusty road in the direction we're heading and stops next to us. Through thick accents, they ask us if we need a ride. We heartily agree.  It turns out it probably would have only been another 10 minute walk, but not knowing how much further we needed to go it was nice to have a ride. The two ladies who picked us up were two Aussies, Cat and Monique, who had been traveling the last 7 months from Mexico. Quite the trip! They were looking to sell their car because they'll be ending their trip soon. One dude at the hostel where we all stayed (we ended up sharing a dorm room with the Aussie chicas) was interested in buying their car, but ended up giving them no end of grief. The Aussies and the dude took it for a test drive. In the course of their dealings in the next two days, the dude flattened three (!) tires, the back tires and the spare. Needless to say, they came away a bit frazzled from their interactions with him and never wanting to go to South Carolina (where he's from).  They decided not to sell him the car and we all agreed he's majorly fried his brain with drugas.

We stayed for two nights at the Popoyo Beach Hostel and then moved to a private house for the week through AirBnb. The house is pretty sweet. After being in hostels for the last few weeks, it's nice to have our own spot. Popoyo is a sleepy little spot on the beach with one tiny store and some small restaurants along the one road. We buy fresh veggies and fruit everyday from the fruit truck that passes by, knowing it is coming from its blaring spiel of "Banana, tomate, piña, cebolla, melon, lechuga...."  The guys have been scoring some sick waves. Today is a chill day though due to the wind and Wyatt's feet need healing (he got a little beat up on the rocks the other day surfing). The wind gusts are over 30 mph, with the wind blowing through the rafters of the house sounding like screaming banshees, bellowing angry incomprehensible people, or fighting cats. The beach is nice, but not so much when the wind is driving stinging sand onto your legs and feet (very exfoliating though!).

Waiting for the wind to calm down,
Chet and Karen

Karen crossing the river to get to the surf break.

The point with a left breaking. It was a super fun wave. We showed up the day a pumping swell started to come in. Got three days of killer surf. 

Firing Popoyo.

Tide pooling in Popoyo. Note the cacti on the hill. Chet is looking at the tons of hermit crabs swarming the beach.

Tiny anemone at the tide pools.

One of many, many tiny hermit crabs on the beach. You had to be careful where you stepped so as not to step on any of them!

Chet after a windy surf.