Cliff's Notes at the bottom of this long post. Sorry, it's been a while and I'm out of practice
Sign number one that we are out of the traveling mindset - we order a cab directly to our house and promptly tell the driver that we'll be gone for two weeks. After receiving a death stare from Adina, I quickly remember that I'm supposed to be thinking before I speak for the next couple of weeks.
Two flights and one hell of a lightning show in Panama City later we were on the ground in Nicaragua, getting into a van with some guy who promised to take us to our guest house in Granada. The man had a piece of paper with our hotel's name on it, so we figured it was legit - though we did get a tad nervous when he took us off the highway and through some ramshackle barrios and seemed to head in the wrong direction. We made it to Granada alive and to our hotel which really should mention somewhere on its website that there is no hot water in the showers. The next morning we spent a good 15 minutes trying to figure out how to ask if we could leave our luggage in the office until we get back from Ometepe - I'm not so sure why Mrs. Baskin didn't teach Adina that one in high school. We took a chicken bus to Rivas - sadly there is no fowl on board (or so we thought at the time) but it gets its name from it's bright yellow color. Intercity buses in Nicaragua are all used school buses from the US and Canada. And I do mean used. These were buses that districts like Lower Merion (or Arlington) would have given up on in the 80's. From Rivas it was a cab to San Jorge and a 1.5 hour ferry to Ometepe - 29 hours, three cabs, two planes, a bus, a boat, and one airport train later and we made it to our first destination! Highlight of the trip so far was Nicaraguan Samuel L. Jackson on the bus that liked Adina's big floppy straw hat so much that he put it on for a bit for us to take a picture.
Up until this point we really hadn't come across much that was all that different to us ' but once we got on the island we realized we were so much farther off the grid than we've ever been before. It helped that a little while after leaving the port town we reached the end of the road. I shouldn't say that. We simply reached the end of the pavement, as we have developed a much better understanding of the difference between a road and a street. When some one says 'Oh, it's just a few houses down the street', they mean you can leave your house and arrive at your destination in a matter of minutes. When your farmer/innkeeper says 'Oh, it's the next building down the road' she means to bring an extra pair of socks because you're going to be very muddy and tired by the time you get there.
Though it was definitely new for us I certainly appreciated the isolation of our location (though the locals might argue that it's not isolation if you're just down the road from another farm) and got used to the idea of having to walk 20 minutes down a rocky mud path to get to the shop to rent bikes (our host's next door neighbors). I did not, however, manage to get used to having to ride my bike over that rocky mud path in order to get anywhere (did I mention hilly?) Our guest house only had two rooms and was run by a super friendly couple that moved down from California a decade ago because they were 'sick of the rat race' and 'wanted to live a more sustainable life.' As far as we were concerned, all that meant to us was that their kitchen was 100% vegetarian! Woo hoo! The shared veranda had a great view of the volcano (or at least the cloud cover over the volcano), and our private veranda had super comfy hammocks (which I only spent 15 minutes trying to figure out how to get out of) and its own great view of the mosquito nests. We had the place to ourselves the first night, then shared with an Australian couple WAY out of their element - they were visiting their daughter who runs a hostel in the next town over and clearly were not vacationing the way they usually do.
On our first day on the island we kayaked around Chico Verde - a very exciting moment for us because we're pretty sure its the first time either of us have ever been to a lake on an island in a lake. We also got our first glimpse of some howler monkeys and got to break in our fresh package of anti itch cream. Perhaps most exciting of all was the photo we took in front of the 'Vote Daniel para Presidente' billboard. Apparently I've been the president here since 2007 and am up for reelection soon. It goes without saying that I'm the presumptive favorite. We hiked down the 'road' from our guest house to their neighbor on the other side who happens to be a British expat who used to be vegetarian and whose restaurant is very able to cater to crazy people like us. In fact, we were told, the dahl is to die for. After telling us he was out of dahl, the owner came up with some new dishes for us that were fantastic (and actually better than the dahl which we came back for a few nights later).
Our next day was one our asses won't soon forget. It started with nice leisurely ride - 'oh, it takes about an hour each way' says our host. Uh huh. Two hours of mud, rocks, hills, and muddy rock filled hills we arrived at San Ramon Biological Station for a 3 km hike up into the cloud forest to a waterfall. Though it turns out the 3 km is just the distance straight up the steep road to the trailhead, yet another thing that should be made a bit more clear to visitors. The hike through the forest was nice, even though we spent most of the hike tripping over our feet as we looked up into the canopy searching for monkeys. We (especially Adina) would perhaps had been more prepared to enjoy without the combination of a sore bum and dread over the return ride home. About an hour and a half into the hike we meet up with an American family on horseback heading the opposite direction - they tell us it's not much farther and totally worth the effort. I say thanks but at the same time can't help but wonder if the horse that's doing all the work would feel the same way. When we do reach the falls we have to agree that they are spectacular - a 120 meter drop between moss coated walls into a crystal clear (and ice cold) pool. Slightly worried about making it back in time for Shabbat, the three of us head back down. The third being our honor guard butterfly that escorted us all the way up the trail. Or at least, we kept telling ourselves that as this guy was really distinctive - about twice the size of most other butterflies around the volcano and jet black on the bottom with a solid baby blue pair of wings. We were certain there could only be one of these, until we were nearing the bottom of the trail and starting to say goodbye to our friend when an identical one landed right next to us. And then a third. So perhaps not as unique as we thought.) Almost at the bottom of the trail - back on the steep road, in fact, we finally saw some monkeys! It was the second most exciting part of the day, trailing behind the moment several minutes later when we learned a bus would be coming by in half an hour and we didn't need to ride our bikes all the way home. And our butts breathed a sigh of relief. This bus ride was also the birthplace of our new catch phrase: "That's not a pig, it's a third baby!" It can be loosely applied to any situation when something you thought was true turns out to be quite wrong. As in, that lady on the bus isn't sitting with a pig, it's just another child. You see, we were confused because we saw her get on with two kids, then kept hearing what we though was a pig coming from next to her on the, but that turned out to be the dead chicken at her feet. Which apparently was not dead after all, but clearly horribly ill.
After a Friday night feast of packaged Indian food and mostly not moldy challah rolls (it's possible that the sell by date that Trader Joes puts on its food does not take jungle humidity into account) we had a nice lazy Shabbat of reading and playing cards, exactly as God intended. Saturday night was one of the most interesting dining experiences we can remember. A serious hippy farm up the road is a haven for college age backpackers and happens to fire up their brick oven for pizza three times a week. Being told they can cater to vegans (the guy who took our order even offered to have the pizza ladies wash their hands before handling our food - I think he thought we were deathly allergic to cheese) we decided to give it a shot. The walk up to the 'restaurant' was an adventure in and of itself. Once we found the small gap in the barbed wire fence we had to walk 300 meteres along a winding stone path up the side of the mountain in the dark. The flashlight was in our pocket but we were pretty sure Shabbat hadn't actually ended yet. You get to a fork in the path and head down to the pizza oven to place your order (once Shabbat ended, of course), then back up past the fork, past the farm's communal kitchen to the registration to pay for your order and pick up soda and beer. When we got to the registration the distinctly white man with distinctly dirty dreads magically already knew who we were and what we had ordered. Apparently they use walkie talkies from the ovens to the cash register, which proved quite useful as the power went out while we were up there. Then we hiked back down to the oven to pick up our food and try not to let it get too close to the dirty American hippies. God knows what they might have. Just as were finishing up the heavens opened and we ran for cover from the rain near the oven and watched the pizza ladies work for a while. I'm not sure if they were just showing off because they knew they had an audience or not, but they seemed quite adept at catching moths with the pizza dough. I guess it adds texture? Also while we were standing there waiting we watched a gecko catch and eat a moth on the ceiling. Those guys are real quick when they want to be.
Sunday was supposed to be our big volcano hike, but Adina chickened out so we only did 1/3 of the volcano to a gorgeous lookout (our guide insisted it was quite pretty when the cloud cover isn't so total), then got back on some bikes (because we are gluttons for punishment) and rode to a quiet, peaceful mineral spring. This ride was actually gorgeous (it went back towards the paved side of the island so once we got off the mud path it felt much better) and the springs were quite nice. It is somewhat touristy but also really popular with the locals, although the drunk guy that failed to pick up the girls from Texas seemed really bummed about it. After the girls left he was practically inconsolable, until his equally drunk friend joined him for some serious man cuddling in the pool. I'm not quite sure how to say 'I love you man.' 'No, man, no, I LOVE YOU' in Spanish and it was pretty tough to make out their slurred speech, but it's a safe bet that they headed somewhere in that direction.
So far our trip had been great - not quite what all of us had expected and a little outside the comfort zone of one of us - but beautiful, adventurous, and fun. Then we awoke Monday morning to find our camera, last set of clean clothes, and 5 out of 6 of our pairs of shoes had been stolen overnight. Not our finest hour, though we handled it relatively well - that is to say did not break down and cry or start throwing things. Luckily almost all of our money was safe, and our passports were still there, so it certainly could have been worse. And it's a good thing we travel with so many cameras, we can still take more pictures for the rest of the trip. But it is VERY frustrating to lose the pictures we've taken, and we're pretty shaken that this happened here. I mean, the thief must have had to hike for half an hour just to get to his getaway car. And what the hell is he going to do with our filthy, wet, smelly keens? He also took the hotels hand towel and towel ring from the bathroom - what the fuck is he going to accomplish with that? Does Ometepe suddenly serve as a black market supplier to Bed Bath and Beyond? Perhaps most frightening is he took our first aid kit, and if you read any of our stories from Asia you know we can get a whole lot of use out of that thing. The property owner was very apologetic and gave Adina a pair of knockoff Crocs to get us through the day, then came with us to the police department to help get a police report which we can use to try and collect some insurance on the $800 of stuff we have to replace. We then took the ferry back to Granada to try and mentally prepare to start our vacation over again. Happy anniversary to us.
So despite the fun we had over the weekend, we're leaving Ometepe with a really bitter taste in our mouth. Especially because one of the things we really appreciated and kept hearing from everybody was about how friendly the locals were and how safe the island was. It kills us that one of the friendly faces (probably some punk ass teenager. God I hate teenagers) we met somewhere along the way was probably the same little bastard that is wearing our keens and trying to figure out how to use our camera.
Ok, it's over with. Now we go back to the mainland and return to our regularly scheduled program. Adina has already bought some shiny new shoes and we're ready to go. Coming up are more volcanoes, more kayaking, and a whole lot more monkeys.
Cliff's Notes
We started our trip on Ometepe, an island made up of two volcanoes in the middle of Lake Nicaragua. The island is super rustic and we feel more isolated than we ever have on vacation before. We've kayaked, hiked up the volcano to a waterfall, biked our asses off on some seriously rocky mountain roads, and seen waterfalls, lagoons, monkeys, and a dead on ringer for Samuel L. Jackson wearing Adina's big floppy hat. We have also learned the true meaning of the term chicken bus. Then our camera and shoes got stolen, and we've returned to the mainland to regroup, buy some shoes, and try to start having fun again.
hey, the alperts are blogging again! hurray! have fun!
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