New year’s in Nicaragua

My initial impressions of Nicaragua as I entered the country in a semi-trailer, were of a similar feeling to Cuba: people hanging out on the street, on chairs outside of their houses, houses with doors open giving the opportunity for people to peer in as they walked past, girls showing their skin liberally, large mix of skin colours with an island feel to the place.

We spent New Year’s in Leon, a town near the border of Honduras which attracts many tourists for its colonial heritage and its fame for being one of the oldest towns in Nicaragua. After many hours of comparing hostel prices, we finally settled on one which had a nice vibe to it along with a decent price. We met some Spaniards (the only people who could speak Spanish in the hostel so that Agustin could also chat) and decided to go to a beach party that was located on an island nearby. Instead of going with the organised tour which picked you up from the hostel and took you back from the island at a particular time, we decided to make our own way there thinking that it would be cheaper and would also mean that we could leave whenever we wanted to.

We arrived at the small wharf where the boat was leaving to go to the island and after some intense negotiating, the boys organising the party decided that we were being unreasonable asking for a discount (even though we had made our own way there and would be doing the same going back). They decided to not let us on. We were disappointed and annoyed especially that it was New Year’s and we didn’t have anywhere else to go and little transport available. I had a moment of insanity after a few drinks and decided to blame Agustin for the whole shemozzle we found ourselves in. I walked off into the darkness by myself thinking I could find a taxi. I was quickly chased after and scolded for my actions and attitude and almost immediately after, a taxi appeared. After a bad start to the night, the rest was a lot more enjoyable and involved several different parties and bars back in town with quite a big group from the hostel. Midnight passed without any count down or anticipation until someone turned around and gave me a hug and in the middle of the embrace, I realised what was going on.

The next morning I woke up swearing that the end of 2010 will be celebrated much healthier than this New Year’s just passed. The first day of the year was enjoyed by going to the closest beach possible where everyone else had also decided to go, been a Nicaraguan tradition to go to the beach on festive days. The beach, instead of being a relaxing paradise, was turned into a mayhem of food vendors, people shrieking and running around in and out of the water with wet clothes (no one had a swimming costume on, all were in the water wearing the clothes they had on when coming to the beach), groups of people almost on top of each other and rubbish in all directions. After eating a fried fish from one of the many vendors leading up the beach, we walked away from the havoc and encountered a strip of beach which hardly anyone was using and where a small bar was playing reggae music. We were kindly accepted as customers even though the place was closed to the public and instead a small private party was taking place. We spent the last few hours before sunset looking out at the beautiful view of water and sand, swinging on a hammock with promises that a new year carries.

The next day we were off to Masaya, a town which doesn’t have much of a big reputation in Nicaragua apart from being a cultural centre with a crafts market and has a nice laid back feel to it with a pretty town square. We stayed with some couch surfers here who were very hospitable and were big talkers, interested in any subject imaginable and very open to sharing about their lives. I spent an afternoon with Nina chatting about the civil war that occurred in Nicaragua and the state of things at the moment.

We spent five days here visiting surrounding towns, volcanoes, lookouts, fortresses and even the local hospital (for Agustin’s possible broken toe after he regularly banged it on objects sticking out of the footpath – we stayed for over an hour and with no sign of seeing a doctor, we left deciding that it probably wasn’t broken after all). The walk up the volcano was an interesting adventure and is worth a mention here. We left nice and early thinking the earlier the better as the sun is super strong as the day carries on. Arriving at 7.15 am at the entrance we are informed that the national park (the entrance to the volcano) doesn’t open till 9.00 am and no matter what we said, the man sternly did not budge. I had an idea. We made our way back onto the main road and I indicated to the several different properties bordering the park. We jumped over a small barbwire fence that encloses a hotel which is all locked up and doesn’t look like there are any guests housed at the moment. We make our way through to the back of the property and came across two workers. We ask them if there’s any way through to the national park from within the hotel grounds and at first they both say no but after a bit of insisting, the man admits that there is a way. We are shown the path leading into the bush. We set foot and make our way through scrubland until we hear a whistle and see that the man from the hotel has followed us in, to tell us that we are heading the wrong way. He shows us how to get back on the right path and shortly after, we find ourselves on the main road leading up to the summit of the volcano. A little adrenalin hit kicks in as we contently start the gentle trek up the road knowing that we are the only ones in the park at this present moment and that we also saved about 10 dollars (a lot in Nicaragua… or when you are travelling!). At the top of the volcano (which we reach in about two hours) we see smoke escaping and smell the stench of sulphur in the air but the view is worth the two hour walk.

On the one hand, Nicaragua is similar in many ways to other Central American countries. People are poorer here, jobs are a little harder to find and the cost of living is high comparatively to what people earn (the minimum salary is around $150 per month). There are many more tourists here than what we saw in Honduras for example (which was pretty much none). The markets aren’t as clean as in other countries with a lot of rubbish dispersed on the floors. But there is a lot of fresh produce, vegetables, fruit, cheese, beans and meat available in most markets that we came across. Bicycles are everywhere and they rule the road without law. The political party in power at the moment (FSLN), is the one who fought in the civil war in 1961. The traditional food which is eaten often for all three meals is gallo pinto = a mixture of rice and beans and quesillo, a tortilla with fresh cheese, pickled onion and cream. Tortillas are common as well as platanos, fried cheese, fermented vegetables and a cabbage and carrot salad mix.

Our next stop after Masaya was an Island which is known as the largest island in the world surrounded by fresh water: Ometepe. Two menacing volcanoes lie on the land, which helped to form the island when they erupted. Our journey over from the mainland was on a small ferry with a severely strong wind, which made the trip very undulated to say the least. Most of the time on the island was spent on buses even though the distances aren’t so large, the roads are very bad; dirt, potholes and many rocks that make the place resemble Ireland. We did get to do some kayaking to a small island with monkeys hanging off it, looking as if they were keen to move to bigger territory as well as watching many beautiful sunsets on the beach.

My wish before heading to the rancho in Costa Rica to start work was to spend some time on a beautiful tropical beach, relaxing and catching up on reading and studying Spanish again. As we got to the beach (near San Juan del Sur), two things happened; the tent that we were going to live in for the next 3 days broke and the wind picked up something terrible. The hostel where we were going to camp let us stay in one of their rooms that they were extending on but which didn’t have a door to it and also wasn’t attached by a walkway meaning that we had to walk over a plank of wood to get to our room, suspended 8 metres in the air. We had two hammocks to sleep in which one wasn't as comfortable as the other. The wind blew throughout every night and throughout most of the days that we were there for. We had sand in every orifice imaginable. There was no point in taking a shower because you were guaranteed to end up the same way, if not worse 2 minutes later. The wind blew so heavily at night that I was unable to sleep and neither was anyone else in the hostel. Having no door to our room made the sound of the wind seem as if a cyclone was approaching. The tin roof didn’t help.

I was glad to leave San Juan and be away from the insane wind that had been taking over the beach while we were there. Of course as we started to leave on route to Costa Rica, the wind died down and beach paradise resumed without me.