Granada

This past weekend I went to Granada, a 400-year old city and the oldest in Nicaragua and Central America.   The city is beautiful and full of old cathedrals and colonial buildings.  Horse drawn carriages transport tourists around the city and the streets are full of music.  There are two main kinds of music in Granada: Cuban-carribean music (expected) and reggae-ton (this is a type of music where each reggae song it put to the same underlying techno beat.  With the base turned up, each song sounds exactly the same from afar).   Young street performers who entertaining the crown with a mix of cir-de-soleil routines, double jointed magic and break dancing complement the music.  It's awesome and scary to watch all at the same time.I went on a few excursions while in Granada, none of them bad, yet none of them fantastic.  

Vulcan Mombacho: While driving up Mombacho Volcano (an inactive volcano with a great view and lots of plants growing out of the inactive crater), my cab driver ran over a chicken.  I was totally grossed out.  He was thinking about stopping by on the way back for chicken soup dinner.  Another down side to this excursion was when, half way up the volcano, I found myself in a 'disagreement' with my driver over the fact that his car could not actually drive up the volcano (what I had paid him to do) and he wanted me to pay someone else to do it, in addition to what I was paying him.  Since he spoke no English and I understand no Spanish the fight went something like this; I would state my position in bad spanish and when he tried to respond, I would ignore it because he was wrong and I could not understand anyway.   It worked out in the end and we continued our friendship.  On the up side, the view of Granada and the lake was great.

Massaya: Reputed to have one of the biggest and best markets in Central America (I think this is a typical statement in each country), I took a chicken bus to Massaya for the afternoon.  By chicken bus, I mean old American school bus complete with vinyl seats crammed together and retrofitted with only a 'hold on for your life bar' in the center (for those who have to stand) and a stereo to pump out the aforementioned music.  My biggest problem with Massaya was the stench engulfing the street.  It was a combination of sewer and rotting carcasses, quite possibly the worst smell I have ever encountered.  The market was fine.  It was blocks and blocks of produce, meat, fish, clothes, shoes, hammocks, and tires.  And, every once in a while, there would be a small slot machine only casino mixed in.  Each tiny casino was busy with Nicaraguans shoving their Cordobas into the machines with the same excitement seen in Vegas.  This was the busiest part of the market.

Islets:  Granada is surrounded by a series of 375 small islands located in Lake Nicaragua.  The islands are purchased by private individuals.  Some are left empty; others have homes of varying degrees of beauty.   It was Sunday when I walked to the lake and the lakefront was filled with Nicaraguans enjoying the final day of their weekend by barbequing and swimming in their clothes. The walk back from the boat was like a gauntlet of sexual harassment by the young men.  It got to a point where I walked in the middle of the street in an attempt to avoid starting my second Spanish confrontation.

Learning Spanish

I've had about 30 hours of Spanish instruction and am certain I should know a lot more than I do.  For example, when I talk to locals on the street I can get my point across to them, but when they start talking it's like I am back in Asia.  I completely glaze over because I have no idea what they are saying.  I'd even go so far as to say the language I have spent hours studying is barely recognizable when spoken to me on the street.  I can understand my teacher, but she's the only one.  She speaks slow and with intention.  I don't understand the TV, can't read the papers, and can't understand a word unless it's America, Nicaragua or barato (which means cheap).  Last night I was part of a debate over whether there are 6 or 7 continents (I know this because an English speaking friend told me).   My only contribution to this debate was to shake my head and say siete whenever I heard seis, and I was passionate about my position.  Come to find out, we were both right. Nicaraguans, as well as many Europeans, are taught that the Americas are one continent and therefore a total of 6. 

I am waiting for my Spanish breakthrough.  It's possible I am going to scrap Spanish school and start spending time in the bars.  There are two reasons this approach may offer more success: (a) the bartenders and waiters speak mostly Spanish and (b) I can say, with confidence, I am better after a few drinks.  I considered finding a Nicaraguan chico to help me, and then I learned that many of the local men think that western women should PAY for their company.  Honestly, what is that all about?

Nicaragua: The 'ladies', the wind and the surf

I am pretty oblivious to sex for hire.  I do not believe I have ever looked at a situation and, on my own, concluded the relationship was for hire.  Not in Asia, not in Vegas, not in the most obvious places.   What threw me off last night was that the two local 'working ladies' were with my Spanish School teacher.  At first, it seemed like a normal group of young Nicaraguan women having a few beers and enjoying a Friday night.  After a bottle of the local favorite, rum, and the departure of the teacher, the night turned.  Even after two guidos joined them with undeserved confidence and the girls took turns testing out each of them, I merely thought the girls were drunk and 'open'.  It wasn't until a fellow Michigander pointed out they were 'working' that it all came together.  At that point, guido number two disappeared and the ladies fought over guido number one (the guido with his shirt open to mid-stomach, not because the buttons were undone, but because they didn't exist).   It was great people watching.

There are many small, secluded beaches in San Juan Del Sur.  Today, we went to Madera, the local surf beach.  Despite the surprisingly frigid water temperature, I rode a few waves and was pleased with my performance.  Playa Maderas is beautiful.  From San Juan Del Sur, it's a 5-mile, 30-minute rollercoaster-esque ride certain to induce fears of death-by-pothole for even the most seasoned traveler.  The wind at the beach was insanely strong, confirmed gale force.  It constantly feels like mother nature is misting you with sand and, every once in a while, reaches out an arm of sand and smacks you in the face.  It is unlikely that I will ever remove all the sand from my ears.

La Escuela de Espanol

I love Spanish school, however, 4 hours a day of thinking is not something I was prepared for.  Next week, I am cutting back to 2 hours a day.  No need to exercise the brain that much, right?  After 8 hours of classes, I still contend that if you slightly change your pronunciation, roll your r's and/or add o or an a to the end of most words, you will be understood more than fifty percent of the time.  Mi escuela is on the beach and has daily activities outside the classroom.  I originally chose not to participate in the activities, as extracurricular events have never been my thing. But today, when they loaded my fellow gringos onto benches in the back of a pick up truck and headed to a neighboring beach for a beer, I figured I'd tag along.  It took about 45 minutes to travel about 5 miles on the pothole filled dirt roads and despite the near gale force winds turning the seemingly soft sand into what felt like a continuous mini-paintball attack, it was well worth the trip.

Each day, we go on a field trip.  Yesterday we went to visit some local monkeys, one of which loves men but aggressively attacks women and children.  The teachers called him gay and laughed.  I think it's rather sick and twisted that this monkey is on display at one of the nicer hotels in San Juan Del Sur.  After hearing from my teacher that women don't surf or participate in activities outside of working and caring for their home and children, it made a little more sense that this monkey would be somewhat of a local icon.  Today we went to a local market set up for the cruise ship anchored in the bay.  When the cruise ships stop here, Nicaraguans come from hours away to set up shop and get a piece of the pie.  So far, it is the only place in San Juan Del Sur where items trade on the US dollar and everyone speaks English. 

I have managed to watch the sunset each night.  It is beautiful.  How can one not love a place where time doesn't matter, bananas are five cents, a beer is a dollar, every restaurant serves chicken 'gordon' blue, and the sunsets are this amazing?  Did I mention you can buy Cuban cigars?    

San Juan Del Sur

I got myself a small apartment in town.  I traded space, windows, and an oven for air conditioning, safety and a contingency of grumpy old gringos.  I'm not sure I would even call it an apartment as much as a windowless room with a refrigerator and microwave.  The windowless part may be a problem for me, we'll see.  I did find out that you can cook quiche-like egg dishes in the microwave.  Add some Lizano salsa (the local hot sauce) and it's pretty good.  Of course, just about everything is good with Lizano, so this is not necessarily and endorsement for cooking eggs in the microwave.

I have met an interesting local who fought for the Sandinistas back in the 80s (Ortega's reigning party and target of the US backed Contras).  I was pleased to find he did not automatically hate me for being American, as I suspected he might.  Even though he has lived most of his post-Sandinista days in Canada, I still think it is good news. 

At the coffee shop today I heard the words circus, midgets, fat ladies, and 7:30.  I am thinking early 1900s Barnum and Bailey type circus....

Back to civilization in Nicaragua

I am slightly beat up from kite boarding.  What is considered a necessary apparatus, the harness, has lead to some serious pain.  That combined with skimming along rocks at low tide and bruising from tumbling head over you-know-what has me happy to be on a break from learning to kite board.  While not extremely physically challenging, kiting is not easy.  At this point I can get up and ride in one direction (right).   After almost 2 weeks, that's not impressive.  However, I took a few days off due to sub par wind conditions and I was told I was learning in one of the most difficult places in the world, with winds ranging from 15-40 mph on any given day.  I think I really like the sport, but will know better once I return and finish mastering this sport.  As of today, I could get to the middle of the bay, but may have to float back to shore.  I am unsure as I have yet to try coming back.

Nicaragua welcomed me with an immigration agent who was filing his nails while getting his black, matte shoes shined?  This set the tone for the formality of walking across the border from Costa Rica to Nicaragua, a country the size of the state of New York.  Once I got passed 'the primper', I began looking for the place where I paid my $7 to get into the country.  I must have walked for 3o minutes trying to find the booth where I gave them my money in exchange for a stamp.  I even tried to enter without the stamp, but was busted and sent back.  Not only is there a complete lack of signs, but also, the booth is located on the back side of a building, behind a small store, on the far side of the bus station. 

It's strange to say that being in Nicaragua has brought me back to civilization, but it is nice to be able to walk out of my hotel and find stores and restaurants and strangers.  Playa Copal was fantastic (this is the view from the condo I rented), but desolate.   I will miss the people I met (kite boarders are your cliche extreme sporters;  crazy, fun and extremely diverse) and I will miss the fried chicken from Pollo Frito Rico Rico in La Cruz.  For many reasons, it's been at least twenty years since I've attempted to eat fried chicken, but it's like crack in this part of the world.  And for a good reason, it is awesome.  Well worth the 45-minute bus ride to get.  Back to Nicaragua. San Juan Del Sur is a nice little beach town and seems like the perfect place to learn espanol.  I start classes on Monday.

Random facts from Playa Copal, Bahia Salinas, Coast Rica: 

Super glue can be used to close up and protect a wound.  I've been using it on the bottom of my foot for a week.  

Costa Ricans have to be told not to eat a 3-foot iguana.  Supposedly it's good.  Tastes like chicken, but tougher.

We were kiting in the same waters as crocodiles (ok, there is only one that we know of and she usually stays out of the main bay).

Kite boarding in Bahia Salinas

There is a local bus that leaves every hour or two from La Cruz going to Bahia Salinas. Just as I had been pondering the ease of traveling abroad, I jinxed myself and unknowingly got off a stop too early on my way to move down to the bay. Generally, that would not be a problem, however, this ordeal turned into me walking around for an hour before being picked up by a nice Hungarian couple who took me the remaining mile to my destination. Since I was going to be away from food and water for a while, I had stopped for groceries on my way down and had about 50 pounds of stuff with me; two backpacks and two shoulder bags. It was not pleasant, especially when a guy from Indiana (who lives here, so fully understands something must be wrong if a someone is walking down this desolate road with this amount of luggage) drove past me and nicely waved, like I was happy to be trudging around in the heat.
It was worth it. I´ve got a great bay front condo with a kitchen and some great neighbors (all 5 of them). There is only one restaurant within walking distance and the food is pretty bad. The owners are Italian, but can´t be bothered to make an extra plate of pasta if they are on the verge of running out. It is either a 40-minute walk or a 45-minute bus ride to get to a store. I have been taking kiting lessons for a couple hours a day and can stand on the board, but can´t get too far. I think today is my breakthrough day.