First Day of Our Trip to Nicaragua

Journal

I feel like a 17 year old on the brink of his first prom. No I don’t. I feel like I have done this a million times. Of course, I haven’t. I have never been to Central America, never been to a place where the exchange rate is in my favor and I have to worry about drinking the water.

The similarity is that I have been to both Italy and Spain where you have to struggle with the language barrier. I feel a lot better about the language this time because I have been practicing Spanish and, having taken Spanish in college, came into my studies with at least some background. It should not be as difficult as struggling through Italy.

Travis is in good spirits. He seemed a little stressed just before we boarded but quickly calmed himself. American Airlines is no Jet Blue or even Air Portugal. The planes are old and dirty. The flight attendants are in a perpetually bad mood. The boarding process is chaotic and frustrating. The plane is full and the mix of people is surprisingly eclectic. I’m glad we are starting in Granada (a picturesque, largely war spared colonial town). It should be a nice warm up before tackling Isla de Ometepe and some of the poor places to the North.

Retrospective Thoughts

My neighbors immediately left and right on the plane were both Nicaraguan. The guy on the right wanted to talk about all the clubs we could go to in Managua and the girl on my left was floored that we had chosen her homeland to visit. I thought she was going to be one of those people you don’t want to sit next to and probably would have been just that had I not broken the ice. She was constantly fidgeting and sighing before I spoke to her. I don’t remember how it started but I quickly learned that she spent her childhood in a little town outside the capital of Nicaragua but grew up in Tampa. Liliam swore by Nacatamales and - to my great surprise since every guide book says it’s a must see - had never been to Ometepe. I suppose this is due to the difference in the perception of time and distance enjoyed by the Nicaraguans. An hour is an eternity in the land of lakes and volcanoes.

It costs $1.00 to get from the capital, Managua, to Granada which is situated about an hour south. You get what you pay for. The buses are always a few minutes late (although they are much more efficient that you might think) and are often standing room only. They are old American school buses, yellow cheese style. Foreign travelers affectionately refer to them as, chicken buses, because people will bring their livestock or bicycle or whatever they are carrying onto the bus with them. I saw a guy grab a bicycle from a boarding passenger, climb to the top of the bus, drop the bike off up top, and then crawl back into the bus through a different door while the bus obliviously continued on its route. It looked like a scene from Speed, if Speed was set in Central America and the stakes were much lower. At each stop, vendors board and sell you all kinds of homemade treats. My first experience with Nicaraguan cuisine was a little bag of really spicy roasted peanuts that cost about $0.10. They were pretty good. The first purchase gave me confidence that I could eat the local fare without too any problems. That proved largely true. My stomach stayed slightly upset for the duration of the trip but not so much that it affected my mood.