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!