beatin' the heat and other observations

I came down from the cool highlands of Boquete into the sweltering hot of the lowlands and said, 'aww, helllllll no!' and hopped on the next bus back up to the highlands. To be honest, this was my plan all along but once the heat hit me I was even more motivated to get gone. So I got the next bus up to another place in the highlands called 'Lost and Found'. This place was founded by a few Canadians but I went anyway as it was set up in the cloud forest as a type of nature preserve. They developed a huge system of hiking trails throughout the forest that was quite impressive. They also had a pet kankajou which is always the sign of a top notch place in my book. The kankajou is basically a very large ferret with a long tail it uses as an extra appendage. The hostel had rescued him from a place that made him into a pet but had to get rid of him for some reason. They built a large pen where he could sleep and get some lovin' from the guests. 'Rocky' as he was named, is nocturnal but when he wakes up he starts slamming his tin water dish on the ground until someone comes to play with him. I jumped into the cage with his trainer (I seriously questioned their certification and training) and met Rocky. He was very tame and had a fettish for elbows, which he liked to nibble. Me too, so we got along just fine. He also liked to jump into pockets, as if they led somewhere he could not find but was determined to discover. He put his nose into my rain jacket and shiffed the pocket as if there was a hidden oppening that led to Shangri-La. We had a ball for a bit, then I moved under the main roof as the rain was coming down like crazy. I left the hostel the next day because their was much more rain in the forecast and I really didn't feel like getting wet in the chilly mountain air. the next stop was Bocas del Toro which is on the carribean side of Panama, just below the Costa Rican border. Bocas is actually an archipelago of islands seperated by saltwater coves, bays and mangrove lined causeways. I have no idea what an archipelago is but i've been wanting to fit that word into this blog for months now... and we're getting down to he nitty gritty of the trip so I figured now was as good of time as any. On Bocas, I met up with my old friend Wiley, who used to work with me at the West End Tavern back in the day. Wiley lives down here part time with her beautiful daughter Zeylia. She bought a piece of land down here yers ago and have spent a while building, planting and clearing the land. Her property is almost an hour out of town on the northern end of the island in a remote section known as Boca del Drago. Her land borders the ocean with spectacular views of the mainland and the ocean. I did not stay here as they had other guests already there, but she very graciously set me up with a friend of hers named Kurtis who lived in town and had an extra room I could crash in. I had a blast with Kurtis,

a 60ish expat who loves playing music and loves talking about it almost as much. We drank cans of ice cold beer and got to know each other passing the guitar back and forth. We hit it off right away, but unfortunately he was heading back to The States for his usual summer tour. He left a few days later and I made my way to Isla Bastiamentos, just on the other side of the sound. I got a boat taxi and made my way to a hotel that had jungle access to the 'famous' Red Frog Beach which was quite lovely. I met a British couple and we went for a long walk down the deserted beach until we found some good snorkling. The beaches were great

in fact one had some fresh turtle tracks from a big momma turtle that had laid her eggs the night before. It looks like a big tractor tread track but this is a turtle track. you can kind of see the flipper/feet marks on the side.

Really cool! This beach was actually called Playa Tortuga. On the flip side of a rocky outcropping we found a beach front bar with a observation platform overlooking the waves.



That was pretty sweet too. After 2 nights of desolate beach paradise I went back to Bocas town and met up with Wiley and Zeylia. I melted when Zeylia ran up to me to give me a big hug!

Little kids can be pretty cool when they aren't crying and they are happy to see you. Wow!

april books

Piss poor effort on the books this month. A few things contributed to the poor showing including traveling with someone for 7 days, not finding good stuff to read and my butt being a bit tired of sitting in a hammock... believe it or not. So here goes:
Grimus by Salman Rushdie - His first novel which was very entertaining and made me feel that The Matrix was a big rip off. Salman wrote this in the 70's and 20 years later it was stolen... in idea only mind you.
White Noise by Don DeLillo - Enjoyable in the 'this book has influenced so many people who influence me' kind of way. A bit dated when it comes to some technology issues but the poor guy had no idea, you can't hold that against him.
And that was it... like I said a terrible effort.

dropping the kids off at the pool (in the jungle) with juan valdez and his mule

A beautiful ride south of San Jose through more crisp mountain air with echos of David Lee Roth bouncing through my head brought me to Panama. The ride was excrushiatingly uncomfortable with the guy in front of me tilting his seat all the way back, made worse by the fact that he was sitting in the effective emergency exit row and had the seat in front of him totally removed. I could not even 'reach between my legs... ease the seat back'. But seriously, he could have lain on the floor in front of him quite comfortably, all the while my knees were wedged in with no chance of even the slightest movement. I didn't even have enough room to cramp up, no kidding. At the halfway point we stopped at a rest area and a young Sweedish kid came up to me laughing. He said, "Man, you are looking so not being in comfort with the guy being in front of you put his seat back! I think, 'Oh man, I am being so glad I am not this dude!' And whole time his seat is right in front of your head! I say, 'Oh, Wow!' Tonight you will be in Panama and say 'I deserve beer, thank you very much!' Where you from? I'm from Sweeden, yeah!" . He was sitting a row or two behind me and said the look on my face was sheer entertainment. He was so nice I couldn't be mad at him. Ol' Sir-stretch-my-legs-and-recline-a-lot left the bus right before the border so the last hour was ok. We got into David, Panama right around 5 local time and my new Sweedish friend and I went to a Chinese restaurant nearby our hotel for dinner. David doesn't really have tons to offer in the way of sights or things to do, as much as it is a travel hub for some pretty nice places nearby, so I made my way up to the mountain town of Boquete. Boquete reminds me slightly of Telluride

in the sense that you come from the valley up into the mountains into this beautiful box canyon sort of valley and have this quaint little town in front of you... only surrounded by rainforest here (as opposed to near 14,000 foot peaks in Telluride).... same, but different. The town has recently been named one of the top 5 places in the world to retire (according to Modern Maturity Magazine (I shit you not), so needless to say, there are a lot of grumpy, gimpy old farts running around who drive almost as crazily as the locals, which is no easy feat! (The only difference is the locals know they're driving on the wrong side of the road). Downtown is overlooked in every direction by coffee fincas and the odd gated community. The way things are going it looks like that situation will be reversed in the coming years with the construction of the road into Boquete from 2 to 4 lanes and the expantion of the regional airport into an international one, planned to be completed in the next 2 years. Coffee finca owners are selling plots of land for $1.5million and moving on to other parts of the country. I believe the Talking Heads wrote a song 30 years ago about Mojique, "he sees the foreigners in growing numbers, he sees the foreigners in fancy houses.". It will be very interesting to see what happens to this town in the coming years. Boquete's climate is perfect for growing coffee and has won somethng like 80% of the gold medal awards at international coffee tastings in the past 10-15 years. In fact, I went on this coffee tour at a local farm and was told that of all coffee growing countries, Panama is one of the smallest as far as production is concerned, but has some of the highest quality beans on the market. I was also told that the famous Juan Valdez

(of Columbian coffee '70's pop culture fame) was merely a brand name and that the actors name was Carlos Sanchez. In fact there were 2 actors that played Juan Valdez, but Carlos was from '69 on, so he is the man I am refering to. I am still in shock, barely able to hold on to the few threads that hold my reality together. Worlds are crumbling as my vision of lonely, hard working Juan Valdez (and his trusted steed (read: mule) named Lana) spends a lifetime away from his family and loved ones simply to hand pick the beans for little ol' me and my perfect cup of coffee, made only with the finest Columbian Arrabica beans, "picked by hand, by Juan Valdez". Standing in a hill of furious fire ants quickly brought me back to reality. As I freaked out trying to brush them off my leg I stumbled into a nearby Castor Tree that the tour guide informed me was poisonous. Castor Trees are used to make Castor Oil, which the older folks reading this will remember was used back in the day to help with certain stomach and digestive ailments. They keep the Castor Trees here because they are also poisonous to insects as well and acting as a natural insecticide for the coffee trees. The fruits are poisonous as well. Our guide, Carlos the comedian, stated that 3 of the fruits, if eaten, would kill you. One time, according to Carlos, a woman ate 3 but was fine. Her husband told her to eat 2 more just to be sure it was actually a Castor Tree. Oh, that Carlos! After I got up from my stumble and the Spanish and 2 Irish girls stopped laughing at me we went on with the tour. Actually the coffee tour turned out to be really fun and informative. Too bad I don't drink coffee that often. At least now I know that you are an idiotic fool if you put milk or sugar in your coffee, not to mention that those of you that like French Roast should be shot. Apparently, European Roast (or Light Roast) is the way that one must roast the beans if one is to truely appreciate the delicate and subtle qualities of fine coffee. I also now have a greater appreciation at the (relative) slave labor goes into the process. Quite torturous, to be honest. One of the coolest things was how (this particular finca) used the natural trees (like the poisonous Castor) as cover for the coffee plants. They kept over 40 different types of native trees as shade trees, not to mention the fact that they liked to have birds around, since they eat insects, but not coffee. The whole mentality of the place was really rather forward thinking and very eco-friendly. They also recently got certified by the ISO for their eco friendly use of the land and the treatment of their labor force (I was just kidding earlier about the slave labor because a good coffee picker can make up to $25 a day in Panama as opposed to the $3 a day in El Salvador). The name of the finca was Casa Ruiz (or Cafe Ruiz de Boquete), in case any of you coffee snobs are curious and want to do a Google search. Quite impressive, I have to say! Another day I hiked the world famous Sendero de los Quetzales (Quetzal Trail)


which is really not that famous but a very nice hike through primary rain forest nearby the local volcano. It seemes every town or region has a local volcano down here.... I wasn't all that impressed.

The trail was nice except for the fact the fact that it winds through 2 families backyards. They were members of the local indigenous population and don't speak very much (if any) Spanish and apparently smiling is not a part of their culture too. Although I probably wouldn't smile if some pasty white people had come and stole the land from my ancestors, introduced infectious diseases which my forefathers had no immunity to, forced their strange religion on to me and changed the very nature of my reality, made me wear shirts and full length pants in this stifling jungle heat, not to mention continuously walking through my back yard when I just wanted some peace and quiet from the wife who won't stop nagging me about why I can't provide a simple meal of Possum stew for our family because i'm always so busy using my machette to mow the yard which seems to grow back as quickly as I finish chopping it while this bizarely tall tourist takes pictures of me continuously simply because I own a machette. So, I suppose I can see how they might not smile, but, honestly, all I was looking for was a simple 'hola' or a nod. Is that so much to ask for? Geez, whats wrong with these people, do I need to show them how to make a cheeseburger, I mean, it's not that hard to mess up! Seriously! I don't want Yucca fries, I want french fries. Parlez usted Ingles?! Is that the way you dress looking for a job on a weekday?!

Sorry about that rant, the heat must be getting to me... but I digress. The hike was nice even though I had to poo in the jungle and wipe my butt with a broad leaf plant

that I prayed was not a cousin of the Castor Tree, like at the coffee finca. As bad as I had to go though, I would have been happy if it was a mild irritant but I lucked out and found out by trial and error that it was harmless... so far. Next stop, more mountain rain forest and uncomfortable long distance bus rides. More to come soon!

last days in Costa Rica

After my brief career as a rodeo clown I left my new buddies for Monteverde. This is a very lush area up in the mountains that has a refreshing crispness in the air due to the altitude (4000+ feet above sea level) and great weather for sleeping under a blanket, which is a special treat down here. Monteverde is the site of the original canopy/zip line tour. The terrain is divided between very green pastures and cloud forest, which for all intents and purposes is just another name for a rain forest. The zip lines go from 30 feet to over 1/4 mile

through the trees and over valleys. There was also a 100 foot rappel down through the canopy of the strange, huge trees and a thing they called a tarzan swing. The tarzan swing was basically a pendulum where they pushed you off a platform and let you swing through the forest until you slowed down a bit. But don't worry, it was all very safe as this pic of the government tested rubber tire tube that was clearly meant for this exact purpose.

Hilarious. Actually, they were quite safe and professional. The last zip line was the longest one and they gave you the option of being harnessed in the rear so you could look down on the valley as you sped across it.

This was definitely one of the highlights of the trip, so far. I have seen a lot of cool things, had some great experiences and met some killer people but there was something really unique about flying through the air above and between thick jungles. At one point I went on a shorter zip line and went past a howler monkey that growled a bit, just to make his prescence felt. He was only 20 feet away and really shocked me. Supposedly howler monkeys are quite goofy and silly but I was definitely in his territory and not in my own element. The guides chuckled at the look on my face and asked if the monkey scared me. They did not believe my answer that it only suprised me, most likely because I didn't believe me. The tarzan swing was a favorite of the entire group and it was very fun to hear some very primal emotions. Once the guides hooked you in they pretty much did not give you a warning and pushed you off the platform. There was a split second fall before you started swinging through the forest. It was at this point that most people screamed in terror and soon after started laughing uncontrollably. The more primal the emotion, the more we all sound alike. I was the first person to go off the swing and had a good view of all the people drop as the rest of the group follwed me. I truely enjoyed the swing in emotions of my fellow zip liners as much as the rope swing, itself. Later on in the afternoon, one of the guys from the group and I went to the Santa Elena Reserve and hiked for about 4 miles through the rain forest. The pics don't do it justice because this place was so thick with vegetation.

I can not imagine getting lost in a forest like this. I think I would just lie down and give up. It was so disorienting and impassable that it would take you three days to go 1 mile and you would most likely go in circles. There are tons of birds with some really strange sounding calls that make you feel like you are just about to get bombarded by some strange predator. I truely felt like I was on another planet.

The next morning I was off, in a mini van, going over some ridiculously beautiful terrain. This part of Costa Rica got it the nickname of 'Switzerland of Central America', which is a terrible nickname. I understand the idea, the terrain is very lush, green, dramatic ridges and beautiful pastures with good lookin' cows (seriously, first cows in C.A. where I couldn't see their ribs) but the land is so different. Anyway, after an hour and a half I hopped on a boat across man made Lake Arenal which had the famous volcano of the same name at the far end.

Another mini van into La Fortuna, on the east side of the volcano. Volcan Arenal is one of three majorly active vocanoes in the Americas. The others are Pacaya, which I hiked to in January, and the volcano in Hawaii. Or at least that's what the guide told us. The volcano is almost always shrouded in a cloud which makes seeing the eruptions more rare than common. It does peek its head out at times, but you have to be patient. I went on a hike through the rain forest near the base , up to the side of the volcano, into an observatory but the clouds never lifted. It was really cool to hear the eruptions though. Apparently this volcano does not have a steady flow, but a more random belching of lava rocks that come barrelling down the side of the mountain. You hear an explosion, then loud crashes that get softer as the big rocks break up bouncing down the mountain. The hike was great as the guide told stories about how he climbed the volcano many times although it is illegal to do so. He didn't seem to be too worried a bout his safety which made me question his ability as a guide but we all got back safely, for whatever that's worth. After La Fortuna I hitched a ride down to San jose with these 2 guys from the States and England, respectively. The drive was incredibly beautiful through these high altitude farm towns. The temperature dropped into the 60's from the high 90's in a matter of 30 minutes. The little towns were great, including this one with a crazy town square that was ruled by pot smoking teens, both literally and figuratively. These shrubs and hedges are proof of the latter. Back into San Jose for one last night in Costa Rica and off to Panama in the morning.

mess with the bull, you get the horns

The next day I met up with the gang and moved into the house. My room was an open air second floor room under an awesome palm frond roof that was over the open air kitchen and living area.

I suppose if you have beautiful weather all year round the thing to do is have an open air living room, which I quickly became a big fan of! That night all of us piled into the rented passenger van and made our way to the rodeo!

First we made our way to some friends of our hosts who were renting this incredible house up in the mountains that overlooked the entire beach. It had an infinity pool nad tons of monkeys around including this one just a few yards from the deck.

Whoops, that's more proof I was here, the monkey is here.

This is a howler monkey. His arm is on the left with his head peeking through. His tail is on the right and if you look closely, just below that you can see some extremely uncomfortable looking reproductive organs just hanging out for everyone to see. No wonder they howl like a beast in pain, it is a tough life swinging from the trees with a set like that! After a quick grimace of pain at my fellow male two legged cuz, we were off to the rodeo. I have to say I was very excited because the rodeo here is a big event. It runs on Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday just a few times a year and everyone in this small town including all of the surrounding areas come out, dressed to the nines! We ate some of the local food (mystery meat grilled on skewers, cotton candy and caramel filled churros) and made our way in to the main event. The ring is circular and everyone rushes to get a seat on the fenceposts that surround the ring.

This is basically in the ring! Your legs hang into the ring and when the bulls come by you have to lift your legs out of its reach! Fantastic! The best part is that the drunks jump into the ring and hang out until the bull gets close and they all run for cover or slide under the fence to safety.

The bravado inspired me and I jumped into the ring! I am not kidding. We were sitting on the part of the circle directly across from the gate where the bulls are released.

After the riders are ejected or jump off they let the bulls run around the ring as the locals watch and laugh at the stupid people, like me, in the ring. At first I stayed near the edge of the ring and when a bull looked in my direction from 30 yards away I would jump up the fence. After a few bulls I felt more at ease and stayed longer and longer. At one point I actually wandered out to the center of the ring as the bull was released with the rider on it. Flip flops are not the preferred footwear for such events but I never got too close to the bulls so it didn't really matter. One of the highlights was when a member of our group went behind a bull and pulled its tail and slid under the fence as the entire crowd laughed. No one went to the hospital and afterwards we went to the rodeo disco which was the icing on the cake! I am waiting on some photos from some of my new friends with me in the center of the ringbut will post them as soon as I get them. I'm not sure how you say 'giddyup' in Spanish but i'm doing some research!

dumb luck with a crazy lizard

After Ometepe I made my way to San Juan del Sur, which is on the Pacific coast of Nicaragua. It used to be a little fishing village and is now the most popular surf destination in Nicaragua along with many weekend homes of Nicas with lots of money.

It is a charming enough town with a laid back vibe and nothing especially unique about it. That is not to say it is a boring town, just nothing great happened to me here. The best part of the town was a $5 dinner of some of the best grilled chicken I have ever eaten. The nice family sold it out of their house every night, right across from my hotel. They said they marinated it in orange juice, mango, tamarind and a bunch more fruits and spices that I forget. It came with the best gallo pinto (spiced up black beans and rice) I have had on this trip, along with a great cabbage salad that was served with super thin fried plantains. Everything was fantastic and it made me realize some people can just cook! The next day I was leaving for Costa Rica, so I said goodbye to the chicken and was off first thing in the morning. Border crossings can be very difficult depending on the time of day, amount of traffic, mood of the customs officials and a bunch of other things. So when I got to the bus station at 6:30am and a fella asked me if I wanted a taxi to the border for $20 I jumped at it. It took about 30 minutes in the taxi instead of 90+ minutes on the bus... well worth it in my book. As I got out of the cab a hustler kinda fella led me through the customs lines (which were very small at the time) and got me to the Costa Rican side in no time, all for a $5 "tip". There was no line on the Costa Rican side and the customs guy had me processed in about 30 seconds. As soon as I exited the customs booth a bus was leaving for Liberia where I needed to connect with the next bus. The last time I crossed this border it took about 3 hours and I had just done it in 15 minutes.... amazing. In Liberia there was a bus to Nicoya leaving right when I got there. I got into Nicoya around 10:45am. I was hoping to get to Liberia (2 hours before Nicoya) by noon and was way ahead of schedule. I only had to go about 2 more hours to get to the beach to meet my friend Devlin who was coming in to Costa Rica for a week from Colorado. Perhaps I got a bit cocky at this point and the travels gods got a little angry at me. The next bus for the beach was at noon, so I sat around in the bus station for over 2 hours waiting for the bus that ended up being over an hour late. The beach where I wanted to go (Playa Guiones)is 5 miles away from the town of Nosara, which is inland by those 5 miles. The bus passed the beach and went on to Nosara where I got off at the last stop. Only problem was that I had no idea where I was or where I was going. I asked some questions to the locals I ran into and got no definitve answers, most likely because I had no idea where I was supposed to be going. You see Devlin and I had both never been here and there is no real good meeting place in town, so I was kinda without a plan which is not a really good plan. Right before sunset I found a nice guy who called a taxi for me and got me to my hotel. I had only read a few reviews online about the hotel and had forgotten the name, but after some back and forth the driver figured out I wanted to go to the "Gilded Iguana" not some 'crazy lizard place'. I checked in at 6pm, which was very disappointing after such a fast start to my day. I had walked about 6 miles around town (mostly in circles) with my 30lb backpack in 95 degree heat and was in desperate need of a shower. After my shower I found a place at the bar and ordered a beer, feeling very clean and refreshed. I had not really planned on getting all the way to Playa Guiones in one day, with the border crossing and all, but here I was.


I was supposed to meet up with Devlin the next day so I just settled into the bar for dinner and a few beers when some crazy, laughing girl attacked me from behind. Of course, it was Devlin, who had just gotten into town and her gang decided to have dinner at the exact hotel I was staying at. Dumb luck, but we just laughed and went with it. All her friends (whom I had never met) were all very nice and super cool. Two of them (Ryan and Cat) owned a share in a vacation home down here and they, very graciously, offered to put me up for a few days. The digs were fantastic and were definitely the nicest of any place I have stayed yet, on this trip. It was looking like a little vacation from my vaction was on the horizon. For a few days, at least.

o muh whaat?

Right smack in the middle of Nicaragua is a lake.... big lake. Some time ago two volcanoes popped up and created an island in the middle with a tiny isthmus between the two. The big volcano is Concepcion and the smaller is Maderas. The island is called Ometepe and that was my next destination.

Don't worry this is not the island itself, merely an artists rendering. I hopped on a little boat that resembled a tugboat and went accross the lake to the island. The water got pretty rough and I once again felt a false sense of manliness by not vomiting. In fact I have not gotten sea sick on any boats this trip. Of course the water has never been more than a few feet and choppy but I now consider myself a seafaring fella. Ahoy, Whitey! Isla Ometepe is quite a unique place. Lots of wildlife, tons of birds and two kinds of monkeys. A taxi driver told me that years ago they passed a law saying that you could not shoot any animals on the island... except of course for chickens and dogs, he said. Awesome! I suppose they got a good view of keeping the animals safe and keeping tourists comingback. The first day I rented a motorcycle with Swiss Chris whom I have been traveling with. We rode all aound the island. The road circling the big volcano was paved but the road circling the other smaller volcano was dirt track and very bumpy. I have not ridden a motorcycle for over 25 years so I was slightly nervous. I figured it out pretty quickly and was off. As we crossed the island we saw tons of birds, a few howler monkeys and tons of smiling faces. As we got to the other side of the island we stopped for some water. When I got back on the bike I sorta spun out and fell down. A few locals ran outside to see what the hubub was about and started laughing at me. I was more than happy to provide a little entertainment. As I got back on the bike I realized that I did what I do with every rental peice of equipment that i'm on which is break it. The gear shift by my left foot was bent and as I tried to bend it back into place it snapped off. Luckily I was in second gear so for the rest of the trip I went a whopping 35km per hour. Seriously, it could not have happened at a furter point away from the start. To turn back would be the same exact distance as it would be to go on. I could not help but laugh at my clumsiness. We stopped at a hippie ecolodge that Swiss Chris wanted to stop at ate some delicious fresh bread which is very rare around here. Bread does not seem to be a thing the Central Americans concern themselves with. The bread that you can find is usually a glorified Wonder bread so this was indeed a rare treat. Then we went to a natural pool fed by volcanic waters called Ojos del Agua. Pretty spot but were terrorized by the local parrot gang who would not stop squawking and buzzing the tower of my noggin. I brought the hobbled bike back to the shop and had to pay an extra $30 for the part that I broke. What are you gonna do?! The tourism industry on Ometepe has taken a hit lately because Volcan Concepcion erupted less than a month ago. The hotel we were at still had a lot of ash on the leaves of the plants and the peak lost 100 meters of height in the blast. That is about 300 feet in a single minor eruption. When I heard this there was only one thing to do... run! The next morning a few of us got a guide and headed up the volcano. Elmer (our guide) would only take us up to 1200 meters of the 1600 meter volcano due to the recent activity. In addition to being bummed we could not go to the top I was disapointed when he would not let me take my machete. Apparently my pre-school arguement of 'but you have one' was not persuasive enough.


My disapointment was soon overshadowed by my inability to keep enough oxygen in my lungs and my profuse sweating. It has been a month or two since I had hiked and I was feeling it! As we got to the arbitrary 'do not cross this line' of 1200 meters I was overjoyed that we could stop going up and start to descend. The hike was really nice but rather steep near the end.


The wind was whipping but the sun was out and the views were great so I was very happy to have done it. We went down a different path and went through some pretty thick jungle trails. Now is the end of the dry season and the previous rainy season was one of the driest on record so the jungle was not as thick as usual but it didn't stop me from thinking I was grabbing a snake everytime I went to grab a branch. I believe the word is paranoia. At this point I wished I had a smaller machete that I could have concealed from Elmer until after the hike was well along the way. Hmmmm, note to self. Looks like I might once again be heading to little place called machete-town!

a good ol' virgin sacrifice

Back on the mainland and immediately into a more realistic Central American culture (as opposed to the Corn Islands), my newly aquired travel partner (Swiss) Chris and I got out of the airport and into a taxi to our next destination of Masaya. Masaya is a working class town only 15 miles south of Managua but immensely different. The people were happy, smiling and quick to say a buenos dias to a tall gringo such as myself. The central park was more like a town square in the center of the city that served as social gathering, church, school and commerce center. Masaya is know for its' handicraft market which was totally geared towards tourists and slightly soulless. The sellers were nice but everything was so.... clean. Just not what i've come to expect down here. Soon we found the local market and the smell of rotting fruit and vegetables in the gutter made me feel that all was right in the world once again. The following morning we made our way to Laguna de Apoyo. Geographically speaking this was a super cool place. Imagine a mountain that had been chopped off and carved into a big bath tub in the center. The water was slightly salty and supposedly very deep at the center. There were a few hotel type places that had sea kayaks and sailboats but we just threw our stuff on the beach and had a swim and sat in the sun.

Aftera few hours we hiked the 1000 feet up to the rim and caught a bus back to Masaya. Later in the afternoon we went to Volcan Masaya for an afternoon/early evening tour. The park rangers drove us up to the top in the back of a rickety pickup. Luckily the accelerator was working like new and we got to the top in 7 minutes flat. The volcano had tons of steam and sulfurous gasses continually flowing out from the crater which made for a really cool dramatic effect.

Apparently the indigenous tribes sacrificed virgins by throwing them into the lava, hoping to appease the gods and sparing their towns from destruction in return. When the Christians came to the area a priest constructed a cross to exorcise the demons of virgin sacrificing and clean up the indeginous peoples acts. The original cross still stands today, but the virgin sacrificing continues. Of course i'm kidding.... the cross is clearly a replica.


After climbing up to the cross we went to the top of another volcano a mile away. Actually the two volcanoes were once the same one. Back in the day, this one huge volcano erupted and the debris that was left created two seperate cones.

The small hill see way in the middle of the picture here is where the original base of the super volcano once stood. Hard to imagine with this pic, sorry. Now one lies dormant and one is active. It was a super volcano that had a base of seemingly 10 miles in diameter. This sucker was huge. More than huge! Now these two smaller volcanoes were barely enormous. Next we went to a lava tunnel where there were tons of bats. apparently the Masaya bats are some of the laziest bats ever because in an old lava tunnel roughly 20 feet in diameter there were tons of mosquitos. Now, if I have not told you, mosquitos love me and there was no relief in the tunnel. I was constantly slapping and swatting while these lazy bats just sat on the ceiling. Don't bats eat insects like mosquitos? I just couldn't understand it and have yet to forgive the bats. The end of the tour was an overlook deep into the active volcano hoping to see some glowing lava. It only occurs once every two weeks or so an we were shut out. What are you gonna do? They kicked us out of the park at 8pm and literally, said 'good luck getting a bus back to Masaya'. The highway entrance to the volcano is on the highway to Managua and is purportedly adangerous place after dark. I'm pretty sure I told the guard at the gate, 'thanks', but i'm still not sure why I said it. I'm not convinced that the highway was quite as dangerous as it was made out to be. Either way we caught a cab after 10 minutes and got home without issue.

last days on little corn

Sorry it has been a while on the posts folks. Life on the Little Corn Island was tough. Not really, of course, but it's all relative, right. I ended up being on the Corn Islands for 18 nights!

My plan was to be there for 7 days-ish but I was having so much fun reading books, swinging in hammocks and swimming in the blue waters that I decided to stay a little longer. As the weekend approached, also came Samana Santa which is a national holiday in most Central American countries. Thursday and Friday before Easter is when Nicaragua celebrates it and the country literally shuts down. There is no bank or ATM on Little Corn so I had to take a panga (small boat) to Big Corn to hit up the ATM for more cash, as I was nearly out. Of course the one ATM was out of cash and the bank was closed for the holiday. I literally had only enough money for the ride back to Little Corn and that was it! Luckily, my hotel runs on a credit system, where you can pay for all you accomodation, food, beer (very important) at the time of check out, so I was not in danger of starving or going thirsty. Luckily the hotel also sold rum by the bottle so there was no need to panic. In addition, there were 3 Swiss folks whom I had been hanging out with a lot in the previous few weeks. Olaf offered to lend me some cash until the ATM was filled up, which was extremely nice. I tried to go as long as I could on the hotel food, but finally had to give in and borrow a few dollars from Christophe on Sunday. On Monday morning I made my way back to Big Corn and was relieved to see the ATM was filled up! Whew! It was a helpless feeling not having any access to money, but it was a perfect experience for down here. Things just don't run like you would expect them too (ie: A cash machine with cash in it) but that is what makes it so great!

The next problem was that everyone wanted to leave right after Semana Santa. By the time I tried to book a flight out, everything was booked up solid for 3 days but I was able to get out on Wednesday morning, so it only meant an extra few days on the island. Alas, back to my time on the island and not trying to get off it. The weather ended up being kinda crappy for my last few days, but I did manage to get out fishing with Jather and Felipe again. The day I got back from Big Corn cashless, I met up with Jather and we decided to go out on the boat that morning. The seas were a little rough due to some nasty wind, but it was nice and sunny so we went out. Another local named William went out with us as well.

William was rather dark skinned and he was called as such in the Carribean slang, and they called me Chele, much to my happiness (see previous posts). The first thing ol' Whitey here did was fall over in the boat. Man, it was like a beached whale, stuck on my back, embarrased, trying to get up, not able to and everybody laughing at me. Luckily I did not get any hooks stuck in myself and it served as a great ice breaker and we all left the bay laughing (at me). We headed south to the deepest water near the island, about 3-4 miles off shore, and tried to put our lines in the water, looking for big Pargo Rojo (Red Snapper) or Yellow Tail. The currents were strong so we moved in closer to shore, slowly circling the island. Everybody but me had caught a few fish, but the currents were still very strong making fishing difficult so we kept moving. As we got about 3/4 of the way around the island we went further out into the flats (only 50 feet deep or so) and continued to have sporadic luck. After our 6 hour fishing trip I only caught about 4 fish, but the fellas had caught quite a few so it wasn't a total loss. Jather's wife made me fish in coconut curry sauce with some Spanish Mackeral that was caught 3 hours before. It was delicious and he and his wife offered me a tab until I was able to withdrawal money from the ATM after the weekend. I was stunned at their generosity but they isisted that it would be their pleasure. My pride kept me from taking them up on the offer except for once, just to let them know how much i appreciated the thought. Every time my faith in humanity is about to diminish, a few simple acts bring it back up above the surface... for a moment at least. Amazingly kind people I have found here. Wednesday came quickly and I made my way back to Managua and quickly to Masaya which was a quick 15 miles south of the cesspool that is Managua. My time on Corn Island had come to an end, but as with most places on my travels where I have had the opportunity to hang with the locals for more than a few days I found some great characters and some extremely generous and cool people. If anyone ever has the opportuniy to come here, doesn't mind not having electricity from 5am until 3pm, doesn't mind not having any cars or roads (this is the main drag),

doesn't mind being hit upside the head with a tree trunk if you are caught stealing (see previous posts), but loves palm trees, hammocks, crystal clear waters, snorkleing with rays and sharks and fishing with some extremely nice people, then come down to Little Corn for some rest and relaxation. It is a truely unique place.

yeah, maaaan!

First full day on the island of Little Corn I wanted to walk all over and get a feel for the place. The island is maybe 3 miles long by 1/2 to 1 mile wide depending on which part you are at, so it is not big, by any means. There is one sidewalk along the hotter west facing side and a few paths that connect to the eastern facing side which has a beach, but no real paths along its' length. The west side has a picturesque bay that is a perfect setting for sunsets but does not get the steady breeze that the east side gets. Most locals like the west side better due to the sidewalk and cluster of shops and services, but I prefer the east side with the cooling winds and coral reef that is 500 yards off shore. The north part of the island has a few small hotels but is mostly undeveloped. I ran into a pack of 5-8 year olds who accosted me for change, 'give me 5 Cordoba or I stomp you!' said one kid. I'm a big believer of not giving money to kids because I feel it reinforces the thought that they can use tourists by begging rather than providing some service, but that's a longer discussion not meant for this forum. Regardless, I received a hail of mangos that were being thrown at me due to my refusal of donation. None hit me, but the kids were ruthless and I could not help but think of the movie 'City of God', where kids smaller than these were running the slums of Rio de Janeiro with iron fists. Being a good 1/2 mile from the nearest house, i'm not ashamed to say I ran away from them for fear of being, not stoned, but mangoed to death. I felt like telling the kids I was a fortune teller and I saw incarceration in their future but I decided to keep quiet should they try to lie in ambush on my return to the center of the island. The north side has a few deserted beaches and the best snorkleing on the island just offshore but it is a good 15-20 minute hike to get food or water, so it's not really my cup of tea. So I made my way back through the forest and luckily the little hellians were gone but that did not alleviate my paranoia of being bombarded a second time. Closer to the center of town I saw the kids sitting on their front porch where they, once again, said something about 5 Cordobas and stomping but I felt a little braver since there were neighbors around so I just ignored them. Next day I went snorkleing and saw a sea turtle and a few nurse sharks plus tons of very pretty coral. A few days later I went fishing with a few locals and caught some Parrot Fish, tons of Yellowtail, Trigger Fish, plus a species Felipe called 'de debil feesh' due to its' large spiney fins and red color. Felipe is the father in law to the Captain, Jather (sounds like father). Jather is about 30 years old and named his boat after his son, Moises, which I thought was super cool. The boat is called 'Captain Moses". Felipe is one of 9 native islanders left. I'm guessing he is about 55 years old, has lived a rough life, has light brown skin, green eyes, is about 6' tall and weighs 135. He has a very Carribean accent and likes to say 'Yeah, maaan!' when there is any lull in the conversation. He claims to have 10 kids by 5 moms spread all over the Carribean. He is quite simply... a character.... and I love characters! In fact he holds a kinship to Morgan Freeman in 'Shawshank Redemption' because he describes himself as a man that can 'get whatever you want'. All in all we caught about 30-40 fish on our 2 1/2 hour trip just beyond the reef. The getup was extremely simple: a thick clear line on a spool with a small piece of pipe on the end (as a weight) and a hook 6 inches above that. Put a small piece of bait on the hook, let the line sink to the bottom and hold the line with both hands. When you feel a little nibble on the line try to set the hook and pull up the catch. The biggest fish we caught was about 1 foot long, so the fish were similar to a trout you'd find in Colorado rivers, not huge but fun to catch and good eating! We also had a rod/reel set up to try to catch Kingfish but they werent biting that day, oh well. Felipe was very patient and helped me pull out the hooks in my hand a few times, and was very happy for me when I would catch a fish. To be honest, I caught more fish than Jather, but I attribute this to beginners luck. After we cleaned the fish, gave some away to locals and washed our hands we made our way to Jathers' moms restaurant to make Ron Don. Ron Don is a local fish stew made with root vegetables and coconut along with whatever fish that is fresh. You start with fresh grated coconut and a bit of water to create a coconut 'milk', put it on a fire, add chicken base, boil for a while, then add local veggies such as potatoes, onion, malanga (a sort of yucca root), a small turnip looking cousin of the coconut (forgot the name, sorry) and boil til the veggies are soft and the liquid is reduced, then add whole black pepper and the cleaned fish, cover with banana leaves, cook for another 10-15 minutes and adjust seasoning. Diagnosis: deeeelicious! Felipe told me that I would have to go out on the town tonight because the Ron Don has an effect on the ladies. In fact he had already spied out an English chick that was travelling alone who had arrived earlier in the day, staying at the same hotel I was. I'm not sure how the ol' dog had found this out because she arrived on the panga while we were out fishing. Apparently he thought she would be perfect for me. He said, 'Usually you be chasin the woman... but after the Ron Don, the woman be chasin you! Best be careful, you may have a little native one runnin around the island in a few months after the woman be done with you! Yeah maaaan!'. I asked if the Ron Don was the reason he had so many kids running around the Carribean and he replied, 'I don't usually eat the Ron Don because I have such a difficult time fightin off the lady as it is! Yeah, maaaan!'. Hilarious, I truely can not make this stuff up. So naturally your next question is did the Ron Don work, correct? Well, I laid down for a nap around 6pm and woke up at 3am, whoops. The funniest part was, I actually met the English girl the next day, who turned out to be a very lovely person I might add, and we went to a BBQ Grill Out with a few people the next evening. As we were walking to the hosts' house she and I passed Felipe sitting on his steps along the sidewalk. He saw the two of us walking and talking and with a big ol' grin he said, 'Yeah, maaan!', as he nodded his approval at me. The next day Felipe and I ran into each other and he greeted me with, 'So you like the Ron Don, no?!'. I exploded in laughter! I mean I could not have set that up more perfectly if I had 100 opportunities. Needless to say, Jather, Felipe and myself are planning on going fishing again tomorrow, if the weather holds. We got along so well (and my fishing was not to shabby, mind you) that we agreed to split the cost of bait and gas without further cost to me. That is a killer deal for me, meaning that I am gonna pay just a few bucks for, what I can only assume, will be a few more good stories with Felipe. I can't hardly wait!
Note: The weather was too windy to go fishing today so we postponed, which is a good thing, because when Felipe came to tell me the news this morning he said he needed some sleep because he met a beautiful Australian lady at the bar last night. Felipe! You ol' dog, you!

march books

Stormy Weather by Carl Hiassen - A very Elmore Leonard-esque crime story set in Florida after a hurricane with human greed at its' finest. Very funny, good characters, quick read.
Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce - I appreciate the writing and all, he started to get me interested when he visited a whore at 15 and he had me feeling supreme Catholic Guilt even though i'm not Catholic, now that's powerful stuff!
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey - The phrase 'rebel by 18 or you got no heart, establishment by 30 or you got no brains' has never been proved more wrong than with this book. It made me looking for something to take a stand for. Fantastic!
Down and Out in Paris and London by George Orwell - Without 1984 or Animal Farm this book would never be read now or in the future by anyone, with good reason too. It could have been written as a 40 page short story but dragged on and on. Luckily it was only 200 pages.
Choke by Chuck Pauhlaniuk - Too much like the outline of Fight Club to be great but a good dark view into the underbelly of stupid dudes. I did laugh out loud a few times though, so AOK in my book!
Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez - He is such an incredibly gifted writer and has a killer mustache on the backcover, to boot.
Cities of the Plain by Cormac McCarthy - Third instalment in The Border Trilogy makes you want to go to West Texas.... until you get there and wonder why you came, pretty enjoyable book though.
Under the Volcano by Malcolm Lowry - Good book but a bit tiresome in places. Captures the sheer essence of a true drunk and his inevidable downfall. A good drinking game would be to have a sip of beer everytime the Consul has a drink, you'd be hammered by page 25. I'd be curious to know how many drinks he really had during the one day this 400 page novel takes place (best guess: 75).

security!

Planes, trains and automobiles to get from Jiquilillo to Little Corn Island, actually more like chicken bus, taxi, mini van, taxi, 15 seat airplane, taxi and finally panga (25 seat skiff) to get here. I began my journey at 6am and I arrived at sunset and spent 20 minutes walking around with the backpack in crazy humid heat to find my hotel. Luckily my hotel is on the windward side of the island with tons of breeze. After catching my breath, I checked in with the owner who is a massive man! Simon calls me 'Meester Brat' with a heavy Carribean accent. Supposedly he picked up a six foot long peice of coconut palm trunk and smacked a thief upside the head with it, just last week. It seems they don't have too much trouble with crime on the island because if you are caught you get smacked in the head with a tree. The story goes that 2 Canadian guys got their money stolen from their room the first night they were here. The next day they went back to Big Corn to hit up the ATM and get more money. The second night they got robbed again but caught the guy as he was hopping out the window. The thief out-ran them but they woke up Simon (at 2am) and told him what had happened. He was already aware of the previous nights theft and the Canadians gave a pretty good description of the robber. Simon told them to come with him, they went and woke up the 2 police officers on the island, went to the guys house, broke down his door, dragged him out of bed and beat the crap out of him. That was when Simon grabbed the tree trunk and swung for the fences. Supposedly the guy was completely out for 10-15 minutes, all the while his family were yelling at the Canadians with not so veiled threats. The Canadians were scared stiff and decided they needed to get of the island and out of the country as soon as possible. There are only two ways on/off the island. The official 'panga' which leaves at 7am and 2pm daily (only in good weather) or a locally hired boat (half the size/twice the time) that is considerably more expensive. They got on the panga at 7am only to find the thief handcuffed between the 2 cops sitting right in front of them. The story goes that they got out of the country fast and safely but needed to change their shorts a few times along the way. After hearing the story from many different people on the island this seems to be the official version. Almost everyone realizes that tourism is the bread and butter of this island, in fact, it is too far off the coast to do steady trading with the mainland to depend on anything else. Lobster has been overfished by the big boats so tourism is it. The locals I have talked to say that this thief was trying to take food off their tables because people will hear that theives are on Little Corn and, in turn, not come. They seem passionate about protecting the islands charm by keeping it safe and also about keeping cars and motorcycles off the island. If they can pull this off for the next 10 years I would be impressed. Regardless, I feel very safe with the Simon installed security system that is in place. I'll just be sure to not make the man angry! Geeez!
The island itself is a bit of paradise. Crystal clear Carribean waters, tons of coconut palms, lots of white sand beaches with a coral reef surrounding half of the island. Sea life includes tons of coral, turtles, rays, sharks (nurse, hammerhead, black tip reef and supposedly a few bull but the last is only rumor), lobster, tons of fish and lots of good clean fun! I can see myself wearing out hammocks and reading lots of books. We'll see how this week turns out!

compadre

After a fun bus ride to a tiny fishing village called Jiquilillo, I arrived at my next destination which my friend Michelle would call Rancho Relaxo. It was set back from the beach about 50 yards but the surf could be heard with violent clarity. Most people who were there had already been there a week which is really long by backpacker standards. Most backpackers spend about 2 or 3 days in a town depending on the length of their trip. Shorter trips make some people stress as they try to fit in as much as they possibly can, therefore missing almost everything worth seeing. Longer trips allow people to move at their own leisure, but with lots to see, most people get antsy to see more after 3 days. Some stay longer if they really like a place but that time depends on the individual. This Rancho just had a good mix of things to do and lots of good hammocks with a steady ocean breeze. Plus they have a killer library of about 1500 books, most of quality authors whom I could see myself buying at a bookstore, made more impressive by the fact that the nearest seller is 500 miles away and shipping and customs taxes on a box, the size of a case of beer, is well over $150 (not to mention the price of the books themselves). Me, always being on the lookout for characters, was slightly disappointed when I missed the chance to meet 'crazy drunk machete guy'. When I heard about him, I wanted to get together to share crazy machete misadventure stories but unfortunately he has left town. You see, 'crazy drunk machete guy' was just how you might imagine him: stumbling, falling, mumbling, drunk at 10 in the morning with a macahete in his hand. Apparently he was a big nuicence. You see, he was usually so drunk that he would fall down and give you time for escape should your paths cross . That was the attitude of the townsfolk until he robbed a 80 year old man who lives on the property of the Rancho. All the old mans cash was stolen along with some recently purchased food. The good folks at the Rancho realized it was only a matter of time until he would hurt an unsuspecting taveller, so they asked the cityelders if they could do something. They came up with idea of buying him a bus ticket for far away and just putting him on the bus. Everybody chipped in and he hasn't been seen since.I have many issues with this philosophy, the short list is sending someone to be someone elses problem, not helping someone with serious chemical dependancies who most likely has mental instabilities, and most importantly not keeeping him around until I got the chance to take a few pics of him. This is the kind o stuff that this blog so desperately needs to keep it interesting. On the first few points one might argue that he is his own problem and most likely the next town will not stand for his tom foolery and incarcerate him almost immediately, or that Nicaragua has neither the funds nor facilities to deal with such mental instabilities. On the last point there is no possible rebuttal. All that I can hope is that 'crazy drunk machete guy' will act like a lost dog in some touchy feely Disney movie and find his way back to his home by any senses he has left and that I haven't left the town yet. I feel a kindred spirit with this whole machete thing.

Whitey Cobb

Did a lot of fun things in Leon, Nicaragua. I tried to buy an extra large t-shirt and found out that Central American XL means a lot smaller. I was trying to buy this 'gallo pinto' (a local favorite food item) shirt but couldn't find an actual XL. Of course the 2XL was actual size and felt like a moo moo on me. I dared not try it on due to the oppresively hot climate Leon has. I felt as if I drank 2 gallons of water each day I was there. I was hoping to catch a baseball game, but missed the weekly game by a day or so. I also found out that Nicaragua subscribes to the same philosophy that Hollywood does in keeping their movie theatres extremely cold. I saw 'Up In The Air' which was just ok but the temperature was delightful. I actually got a bit chilly in the theater. Another thing that was really fun was being called 'whitey'. It seems that people in this part of the world address each other by color if they are extremely light skinned. The word 'chele' pronounced 'chay-lay' means light skinned. My translation is 'Whitey'. When I was in El Salvador my surf instructor was nicknamed Chele. I was told that kids in El Salvador receive their nicknames as a newborn, oftentimes. Unlucky for my surf instructor he ended being the darkest fella in the town, so the nickname stuck due to the irony of it all. He didn't like being called 'Whitey' so I called him 'Che'. He was cool with that. I, on the other hand, rather like being called 'Whitey'. I try to smile a lot down here, and those of you that know me will not say i'm going out on a limb by saying that I am rather nice. Those two characteristics together make me a rather endearing lad to the Nicaraguans, if I say so myself. So when an 80 year old man and I were crossing the street, in opposite directions, and he said, 'Oye, Chele!', it caught me by suprise but I smiled a bigger grin than he did. Since that time I have counted about 5 or 6 times just in Leon where random people have said, 'Hola, Chele' or 'Buenas, Chele'. I feel like the locals are kinda messing with me, but in a loving way. More of a 'your condition is so unfortunate i can't help but make fun of you' way than a 'i'm insecure about my manhood and therefore i need to belittle you to make myself feel better- high scholl' kind of way. I can only assume that it is a sign of affection. Therefore, on my return to the US, I am going to insist my friends refer to me as 'Whitey', and try to make this thing stick. Sure I have friends who are "whiter" than me. If I also have friends who have bigger beer bellys' than me yet some people call me 'Tubby'. Does that mean they can't call me 'Tubby'? Surely not! If my unfortunately more transparent friends choose to come to Nicaragua and pick up this nickname then perhaps I will yield, but until that day comes, 'Whitey' it is!

a brit, german,dutch, american and two swiss teens walk into a bar...

I got the wake up call at 4:30 in the morning for my bus back to Nicaragua. As I was leaving the hostel, a nice German girl was leaving as well. After some terribly bad broken Spanish we found out that we were heading to the same bus so we shared a taxi to the terminal. As we got there another girlfrom the same hostel was arriving via taxi for the same bus, although she was Dutch. A few minutes later a British chap hopped out of a taxi and, lo and behold, he was at the same hostel as all of us the night before. We said hellos and during the ensuing 9 hour journey we all chatted with each other individually and in a group. At the border crossing we talked more and decided to stay in the same hostel in Granada, our destination city. The German girl had been to Granada before and knew of a decent place. I have to say with all the uncertainty of travelling and trying to find accomodation, food, striking up conversations and alone time, when someone you get along with has a bead on atown, you happily float behind them, and let them lead you. We all stayed in a 4 bed dorm style room and got to know each other better over dinner and drinks. The German girl, Alina, is a bohemian style hippie chick who makes jewelry she sells (barely by her own admission) along her journeys. she spoke almost no english but was more proficient in Spanish than the lot of us. Janika was the Dutch girl who always smiled, was happy no matter what and seemingly positve in any situation. James was the happy go lucky Brit who was dragging around a 7 foot surfboard in a case and was your typical dry humored Englishman in Nicaragua. That is to say, I have only met one Brit in Nicaragua but he strikes me as the type I would imagine, although I am a bit biased as I adore Brits and their dry sense of humor and love for beer. We made a motely crew and fr two days were nearly inseperable. We went out for drinks, discovered the market, got lost in the market and fought for the 2 hammocks in the courtyard of the hostel. Everywhere we went we felt like a joke (A Brit, German Dutch and an Amereican walk into a bar...).

Later on in the weekend we met up with a few Swiss teenage girls on their 'we just graduated high school trip'. It felt a little like European Vacation with me being the only 'true gringo' in the bunch. the two Swiss teenagers had met Janika in the dorms a few towns back and they had arranged to meet back up in Granada. Most of us went on a boat tour of these little islands that were formed by volcanoes way back but now are owned by Nicaraguan elite. Except for this little island that the monkeys ruled but the tourists fed.


So wrong in so many ways! At least I got proof this time. Next I headed to Leon that is, yet another colonial city. Like all the rest of them it has churches and people and t-shirts that I can't buy because they don't fit me. It seems that XL has a meaning more like medium wile 2XL means the same as in the US, which for me is a moo moo. I like this city, actually like it a lot, although i'm getting tired of towns trying to replicate th touristic success of more famous towns by advertising themselves as 'colonial'. I guess I just wish they would advertise what they really are as opposed to what they think people want to hear. Perhaps i'm getting a little jaded, who knows. Alls I know is that next i'm heading to a tiny fishing village with surfing, hammocks, horseback riding (which I will be doing shirtless, of course) and the obligitory volcano. They are out of internet service as of now, so i'll be back with you folks in a week or so.

jumping from waterfalls

After I arrived in Santa Teresa I had the car for a second day, so me and this nice Aussie named Liam (who i met in the hotel and drank some beers with the night before) drove on the dirt road over the nountains and through the jungle to Montezuma. We hiked up a river and found a local watering hole and waterfall only 1/2 mile upriver. First thing Liam did was jump in the water, check the depth of the pool and climb up the waterfall and dove in. First time he only climed up 10 feet and I followed. Second time he climbed about 15+ feet and dove head first. I did not follow this time.

Sorry, but the camera breaking effected my ability to rotate my photos. Next we hiked up the side on a dirt trail and found another waterfall further above the first set of falls. This one was about 30+ feet up in the air. Liam followed a few locals

and jumped in right away. This kid was crazy, I liked him! I was contemplating not jumping when a girl looked at me and said, come on, i'm jumping. Totally called me out!

Now I HAD to jump! To be honest, I jumped bigger cliffs before at Gross Reservoir outside Boulder, but that was almost 20 years ago. I barely got to the edge and didn't hesitate and jumped off, losing my composure at the last second and letting my arms float out and smacking them on the surface. But the jump was fun and we did it a few more times. There was also a rope swing that let you off about 10 feet above the highest pool, which was fun. Actually got some footage of Liam jumping off.

I was trying to film with both his and my camera but his battery died so forgive me for the first 15 seconds or so, but htis should give you the idea of how high it was. Lots of fun regardless! When we got back into town I saw my first monkeys. I pulled out my camera but it was all jammed up. Sorry but no monkey pics. Actually no pics for the past five days but I bought a new one in San Jose today and am all ready to go. I actually spent 2 nights in Montezuma after a few nights in Santa Teresa, but no photos of that either. Stayed across the hall from some American college girls who were doing a semester abroad thing. We hung out all weekend and chilled on the beach and saw a few troops of Colobus and Howler monkeys (seperately) but i'll bet you don't believe me without the proof. I'm heading to Nicaragua tomorrow, so hopefully I will see some more up there and get pics and video proof for you. Oh yeah, got the teeth all fixed up today and i'm ready to move on. Sorry for the boring post but I had a few uneventful days. I'm hoping Grenada turns out to be a feakshow so I can amass more strange and unbelievable stories. At least I can hope!

the monkey trail

The next town I wanted to go to was only about 40 miles south on the coast. The name of the town is Santa Teresa. I asked the owners of the hotel how to get there and they told me I would need to wake up and get the 5:30am bus into one town, wait an hour, get another bus back on to the mainland towards another town, hop on a ferry to go back to the peninsula, wait for another bus to another town, transfer to another town and finally get into Santa Teresa around 3 or 4 in the afternoon. All this effort for something that is incredibly close and easily attainable by other means. This is one of the times you just need to splurge and get past the tom foolery! So I asked around and found a rental car for the coastal trip. It had to be a 4x4 because you have to cross a few rivers and go up some steep, rocky roads. The 4x4 I got was a Rav 4 type, a tiny four seater that I barely fit in, but it worked. I had heard the ride could be desolate and dangerous. So, I loaded up in the morning with a full tank of gas, my machette sitting shotgun, a big box of fried chicken from the local Pollo Rey (Chicken King, which by the way is open for breakfast at 7am and has a killer family-style combo meal for only 3899 Colones with 8 peices of fried chiken, 3 drinks and 4 sides plus 3 biscuits... I only wanted the chicken so I bargained down to 2899 Colones) and was off with the directions of 'stay close to the coast and eventually you will get there'. "You can't get lost!", I was told. Famous last words, right?
I made my way past 20 rididulously annoying big ol' speedbumps into Puerto Carillo and tossed a mostly eaten thigh into the jungle. I'm all about helping out the local wildlife. About 5 km into my trek the road turned into a dirt bulldozer track. The jungle is very dry now, as it is the dry season. Dust covers almost all of the broad leafed trees in a brown haze. I'm sure deeper into the jungle the leaves are less dusty but along the road it is almost as if you are looking through a photo filter devoid of bright colors.
The road turned sharply to the coast and followed many ravines up and down until a 'T' in the road appeared. To the right looked like it led to a dead end so I headed left, to the south. I almost ran over some sort of snake that I thought was a stick until it swished away at the last second. Just at the last second I saw it move out of the corner of my eye as I passed it. It gave me the willies so for a lark I unsheathed the machette and drove the next mile or two with it hanging out the driver side window in my left hand. I put it back in its rightful place when I realized just how crazy I looked driving down the road holding on to it. Not that it mattered, I hadn't passed one person or car in the first half hour. The next town that appeared over a rise was called Punta Islita.

This tiny 300 yard curved beach was flanked by 1000 foot mountains to the north and south, leaving a pleasantly sheltered valley. Unfortunately the valley had been discovered by a resort that had bought up all the important property in town and had built a 9 hole golf course. The dirt road gave way to nicely paved and bricked streets to a nicely manicured youth soccer field and a brightly painted church. The tiny town was quite quaint but it looked as if it was too quaint, as if it were all nice and shiny for the tourists, not for the locals. After the church I gunned it up the steep rocky dirt road and stopped for a small lunch overlooking the town to the north


and the undiscovered beaches to the south.
After lunch the road turned inland for a while and started south again right at the point I was beginning to question my sense of direction. The inland areas were mostly agricultural land with pastures for cattle and smaller plots for gardens. The next beach I made it to was a long straight beach that had a long straight road parallel to the beach about 50 yards from where the sand started, with hundreds of empty lots. The beach was beautiful and looked clean and surfable. Only 20% of the lots were built on (or squatted on). Although the roads getting to this part of the peninsula are rough and unpaved with lots of very small bridges, the beach communities have been blowing up in the past 20 years. Perhaps because of the access this beach has not seen much in the form of development, but I would not be suprised if Playa Coyote turns out to be a big destination in the near future. After a few more relatively deserted beaches I made my way into San Francisco and over the only "big" river that I had to forge.

It was about 1-2 feet deep and about 25 yards wide. I made it across without problems, but i'm not gonna lie to you, it had me thinking. On the other side I ran into a carload of Canadians who asked me for directions. I told them what little I knew and they told me where to head. The driver smiled and asked me with disbelief if I was travelling alone. When I said yes he smiled and said 'cool' although his eyes told a different story that read more like, 'you silly, crazy man'. I did not introduce him to the machette sitting shotgun, so technically I wasn't travelling 'alone' but I didn't want to get into a semantic discussion with him so I smiled and let it pass. Soon after the big river I started driving on the beach, itself. I was told to follow the tracks for about 4 miles 'til I got to the next town and I would almost be at my destination. As I was driving on the beach I started looking to my right at the ocean and to my left at driftwood. It was then that it hit me that it was low tide and I was driving on hard sand and I had no idea if the tide was going out or in.
As you can see it didn't stop me from getting out and taking a pic but I started freaking out a little bit, hence driving faster until I hit the next town. By sheer dumb luck I had hit the tides perfectly but that had not stopped me from a mini freak out. After a water break I drove another 10 minutes and was there. I had driven the not so famous 'Monkey Trail' and had lived to tell the tale (not seeing one monkey, mind you). Regrettably I only finished half of the fried chicken, but on the bright side I had wiped my hands clean on the dashboard which gave it a nice armour all look. Win-win for everybody!