Wednesday, August 8, 2007
August 8 - Final Entry - Home and Done
Hello everyone, we are home safely and finished with our trip. We got home at around 9 last night, had some pizza and Asian food and headed up to bed after a while. Buddy is back at home with us and we have all settled back in. The consensus is that the trip was fun, but it's nice to be back. We are done with our Central American journey, and we hope you enjoyed following us along the way! Thanks for reading! Adios
Ben - August 7, Late Afternoon
August 7, 4:40 PM EST
Continental Airlines airplane
Somewhere along the east coast
Hello from the cozy berth of this Continental Airlines airplane, row 15, seat E. We are on our way back home, schedule to land in Boston at 6:05. I looked at the flight path in the airline magazine and apparently we go from Houston to Boston via the Gulf of Mexico, over Jacksonville, hooking out over the Atlantic and then returning to land over Washington D.C. Maybe it’s just me, but that seems rather indirect. Undoubtedly, the airline has a fine reason for taking such a route. Meanwhile, we are enjoying our nearly four-hour flight.
We checked out of our Granada hotel late yesterday morning and were picked up by a driver that the hotel had contacted for us. We were going to a hotel in Managua right across from the airport, but took a couple detours along the way. We first stopped at two small Nicaraguan towns that had some nice shops and stores for us to poke around in. There were lots of stores selling little things such as jewelry, pottery and other such trinkets. We saw a group of schoolchildren who were out for lunch. They are in the middle of their school year, which I suppose makes sense because even though it is technically summer here, it’s not the hottest part of the year, which is around April and May. The second town, Catarina had a spectacular vantage point that overlooked a gorgeous lake that was sitting in the middle of an old volcanic crater. That is where we would’ve gone if Rachel hadn’t been so sick several days ago. In the distance, I could see the rooftops of Granada, but otherwise, there was a lot of forest and such.
Our next stop was the town/city of Masaya, with around 100,000 residents. They had a very large market selling things like hammocks, clothing, painting and many other things. We walked around there for about an hour and then went to a small restaurant outside for lunch. There we ate and talked with our guide about various things. What I really remember about that was that we were approached by a girl of about 13 or so and a very old woman who were both begging for food and who both seemed mentally ill. I didn’t notice them until the girl suddenly appeared behind Rachel and grabbed her shoulder. In Granada I had seen people sitting on benches and steps asking for money or food as we walked by, which didn’t bother me much, but never had I been approached by anyone begging for food before. That, combined with the fact that I was sitting down and couldn’t just walk away made me feel more than a little uneasy. It took several refusals before the two went away. I watched them walk around to other tables asking for food and as far as I could see, getting refused. I wonder if maybe we should've given them something, or if we did the right thing. Either way, what's done is done. It was probably those two more than anything else that made an impression on me regarding how poor these people were. I certainly won’t forget it anytime soon.
After that, we went to Volcan Masaya, a volcano outside of Masaya. After walking around the introductory area where exhibits talked about volcanoes, we drove up the road to the crater. There were large amounts of sulfur coming out of the opening of the crater, which looked like some endlessly deep death hole. Indeed, when the Spanish came to Volcan Masaya, they declared it the very gates of hell and said that the devil dwelled inside. A priest even put up a cross at the lip of the crater to exorcise the devil. You can still walk up to the spot where the cross was put up and view the crater from there. I didn’t stay up there very long though, because the sulfur was drifting towards the viewing area and it was pretty unpleasant.
After wandering around the edge of the crater for a while, we got back in the car and headed to the hotel in Managua. It certainly enhanced our cultural experience, seeing as we were staying in a Best Western hotel with two pools right across from the airport. We had a nice dinner and swim there before going to sleep and waking up at 4:30 AM so we could get to the airport by 5:00 and catch our 6:50 flight to Houston. Everything was fairly unremarkable, and I passed the time by reading and listening to the Continental Airlines radio, which I found, doesn’t even have enough material for a full flight and simply loops a two hour segment over and over again. Customs and immigration was unexceptional, and we got through easily and quickly. I spent the layover time perusing sports magazines before we got on the plane. It’s now about 5:20 and we’ll be landing in 40 minutes or so. I think this is the last entry in our blog, so thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed our musings. Adios!
Continental Airlines airplane
Somewhere along the east coast
Hello from the cozy berth of this Continental Airlines airplane, row 15, seat E. We are on our way back home, schedule to land in Boston at 6:05. I looked at the flight path in the airline magazine and apparently we go from Houston to Boston via the Gulf of Mexico, over Jacksonville, hooking out over the Atlantic and then returning to land over Washington D.C. Maybe it’s just me, but that seems rather indirect. Undoubtedly, the airline has a fine reason for taking such a route. Meanwhile, we are enjoying our nearly four-hour flight.
We checked out of our Granada hotel late yesterday morning and were picked up by a driver that the hotel had contacted for us. We were going to a hotel in Managua right across from the airport, but took a couple detours along the way. We first stopped at two small Nicaraguan towns that had some nice shops and stores for us to poke around in. There were lots of stores selling little things such as jewelry, pottery and other such trinkets. We saw a group of schoolchildren who were out for lunch. They are in the middle of their school year, which I suppose makes sense because even though it is technically summer here, it’s not the hottest part of the year, which is around April and May. The second town, Catarina had a spectacular vantage point that overlooked a gorgeous lake that was sitting in the middle of an old volcanic crater. That is where we would’ve gone if Rachel hadn’t been so sick several days ago. In the distance, I could see the rooftops of Granada, but otherwise, there was a lot of forest and such.
Our next stop was the town/city of Masaya, with around 100,000 residents. They had a very large market selling things like hammocks, clothing, painting and many other things. We walked around there for about an hour and then went to a small restaurant outside for lunch. There we ate and talked with our guide about various things. What I really remember about that was that we were approached by a girl of about 13 or so and a very old woman who were both begging for food and who both seemed mentally ill. I didn’t notice them until the girl suddenly appeared behind Rachel and grabbed her shoulder. In Granada I had seen people sitting on benches and steps asking for money or food as we walked by, which didn’t bother me much, but never had I been approached by anyone begging for food before. That, combined with the fact that I was sitting down and couldn’t just walk away made me feel more than a little uneasy. It took several refusals before the two went away. I watched them walk around to other tables asking for food and as far as I could see, getting refused. I wonder if maybe we should've given them something, or if we did the right thing. Either way, what's done is done. It was probably those two more than anything else that made an impression on me regarding how poor these people were. I certainly won’t forget it anytime soon.
After that, we went to Volcan Masaya, a volcano outside of Masaya. After walking around the introductory area where exhibits talked about volcanoes, we drove up the road to the crater. There were large amounts of sulfur coming out of the opening of the crater, which looked like some endlessly deep death hole. Indeed, when the Spanish came to Volcan Masaya, they declared it the very gates of hell and said that the devil dwelled inside. A priest even put up a cross at the lip of the crater to exorcise the devil. You can still walk up to the spot where the cross was put up and view the crater from there. I didn’t stay up there very long though, because the sulfur was drifting towards the viewing area and it was pretty unpleasant.
After wandering around the edge of the crater for a while, we got back in the car and headed to the hotel in Managua. It certainly enhanced our cultural experience, seeing as we were staying in a Best Western hotel with two pools right across from the airport. We had a nice dinner and swim there before going to sleep and waking up at 4:30 AM so we could get to the airport by 5:00 and catch our 6:50 flight to Houston. Everything was fairly unremarkable, and I passed the time by reading and listening to the Continental Airlines radio, which I found, doesn’t even have enough material for a full flight and simply loops a two hour segment over and over again. Customs and immigration was unexceptional, and we got through easily and quickly. I spent the layover time perusing sports magazines before we got on the plane. It’s now about 5:20 and we’ll be landing in 40 minutes or so. I think this is the last entry in our blog, so thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed our musings. Adios!
Dad - August 6, Night
Monday August 6, 2007
Best Western La Mercedes, Managua Airport
The power is out and so we are running on generator. Not much of hardship for us, but it was a start when all the lights went out while we were sitting in the restaurant. I think we have had 2 days out of 8 in Nica when the power has not gone out at least once. Now we can afford to stay at places that have their own generators.
This is the kind of hotel that qualifies as high class in developing countries – two pools, a restaurant with western food, tended yards. But it feels out of place because it is trying so hard to be American – so the furnishings are out of date and the smartly dressed front desk staff have too many papers to fill out.
The clientele is mostly Americans with flights out in the am – most prevalent are the medical students, many of whom feel compelled to walk around in their scrubs and some even with stethoscopes hanging from their necks; presumably so we do not block their important way. I think of brother steve, my surrogate for latin American business travelers, and their nights spent in not quite exotic places like this.
Scenes from the last couple of days. Early morning Mass at La Merced yesterday am where the average age was 50 and women out numbered men 3 – 1 and the singing was awful. The sweet voiced kid with the slicked back hair who sold me a bulletin for a Cordoba early in the morning was still there at the 5 pm (much louder and more musical) mass.
Last night, the Parque was very quiet, with the vendors packed up, and drunks, lovers and young boys were the only ones lounging round. I walked through it and up Consulado, underneath the Chomorro shield, past the house with the open doors that allowed you to peer in past the living room to the court yard, and past the laundry where the woman worked behind the counter and fluorescent light spilled out into the street, shining on the people hanging out in plastic lawn chairs.
This morning, in our high end Casa La Merced, with the high beds, high ceilings and dark room with a decidedly non colonial air conditioner, we had a refined courtyard breakfast, looking past the bougainvillea up to the bell tower La Merced, which clanged tinnily. Outside the gates, the sounds people walking, horses clopping and cars engines whining all rattled off the walls.
Later, under our first bright sun in 2 days, we took in the museum at the bright blue Franciscan Convent – a quick tour of a millennia and a half around Granada. The kids liked the diorama – Ben pointed out to Rachel where we walked down to the lake the previous day (in the neighborhoods where two tall gringos can still create quite a stir), I liked the pavilion with the pre Columbian statues harvested off nearby Zapatera Island. The animal/human statues were not too far from home – the Island and Mombachu volcano were still their backdrop.
Women. Some of the old wrinkled ones sit on the steps and beg. The stylish ones walk around in impractical heels – how do they cut between cars in the dash at the intersections? A surprising number zip around on bikes and motorcycles – both here and in the country. Ometepe guide Johan said Latin American Machismo is exaggerated and women run the marriages. Is that why Colette got the come on from stray old men when she went out by herself?
The scenes today with our driver Shegher (a fortunate Granada kid and Red Sox fan who hightailed it to Miami when the going got tough in the 80s – “my Dad went to Libya and came back with the name”. When it was safe they came back to run the family chicken farm and now he supervises construction crews and trades on his excellent English)) were more stock in nature. I am glad we splurged and did not go for the direct taxi ride but went to see the beautiful pottery at San Juan Oriente, the mirador overlooking Laguna Apoya (yet another volcano crater), into the way too civilized Masaya market and up to the barren lip of the still-smoking Volcan Masaya (nice exhibit in the visitor center about all the volcanoes in Nicaragua). But the most provocative thing came after that when we passed several “free trade zones” – factories where consumer good are assembled duty free with ridiculously low wages so we can buy them cheap in wal mart. The buses and bikes were lined up just inside the chain linked fences for the workers, to take them to their dingy, dirty homes just down the road that made the shanties in San Jose look almost posh.
Free trade zones and tourism. The path to economic advancement is a rocky one. “El Pobre del Mundo Arriba” exclaims the Ortega campaign poster. The same sentiment that makes foreign capital nervous, our zip line lawyer would say – he should stop hanging out with those crazy South American liberal leaders. And Shegher points out that statement could mean their numbers, not their power, are rising
Tonight Colette and I bobbed in the pool and talked – inexorably – of what needed to be done when we arrived home. Afterwards at dinner the family traded comparisons of best meals and best days on the trip, and then asked for the 4:30 am wake up to begin the journey home.
Best Western La Mercedes, Managua Airport
The power is out and so we are running on generator. Not much of hardship for us, but it was a start when all the lights went out while we were sitting in the restaurant. I think we have had 2 days out of 8 in Nica when the power has not gone out at least once. Now we can afford to stay at places that have their own generators.
This is the kind of hotel that qualifies as high class in developing countries – two pools, a restaurant with western food, tended yards. But it feels out of place because it is trying so hard to be American – so the furnishings are out of date and the smartly dressed front desk staff have too many papers to fill out.
The clientele is mostly Americans with flights out in the am – most prevalent are the medical students, many of whom feel compelled to walk around in their scrubs and some even with stethoscopes hanging from their necks; presumably so we do not block their important way. I think of brother steve, my surrogate for latin American business travelers, and their nights spent in not quite exotic places like this.
Scenes from the last couple of days. Early morning Mass at La Merced yesterday am where the average age was 50 and women out numbered men 3 – 1 and the singing was awful. The sweet voiced kid with the slicked back hair who sold me a bulletin for a Cordoba early in the morning was still there at the 5 pm (much louder and more musical) mass.
Last night, the Parque was very quiet, with the vendors packed up, and drunks, lovers and young boys were the only ones lounging round. I walked through it and up Consulado, underneath the Chomorro shield, past the house with the open doors that allowed you to peer in past the living room to the court yard, and past the laundry where the woman worked behind the counter and fluorescent light spilled out into the street, shining on the people hanging out in plastic lawn chairs.
This morning, in our high end Casa La Merced, with the high beds, high ceilings and dark room with a decidedly non colonial air conditioner, we had a refined courtyard breakfast, looking past the bougainvillea up to the bell tower La Merced, which clanged tinnily. Outside the gates, the sounds people walking, horses clopping and cars engines whining all rattled off the walls.
Later, under our first bright sun in 2 days, we took in the museum at the bright blue Franciscan Convent – a quick tour of a millennia and a half around Granada. The kids liked the diorama – Ben pointed out to Rachel where we walked down to the lake the previous day (in the neighborhoods where two tall gringos can still create quite a stir), I liked the pavilion with the pre Columbian statues harvested off nearby Zapatera Island. The animal/human statues were not too far from home – the Island and Mombachu volcano were still their backdrop.
Women. Some of the old wrinkled ones sit on the steps and beg. The stylish ones walk around in impractical heels – how do they cut between cars in the dash at the intersections? A surprising number zip around on bikes and motorcycles – both here and in the country. Ometepe guide Johan said Latin American Machismo is exaggerated and women run the marriages. Is that why Colette got the come on from stray old men when she went out by herself?
The scenes today with our driver Shegher (a fortunate Granada kid and Red Sox fan who hightailed it to Miami when the going got tough in the 80s – “my Dad went to Libya and came back with the name”. When it was safe they came back to run the family chicken farm and now he supervises construction crews and trades on his excellent English)) were more stock in nature. I am glad we splurged and did not go for the direct taxi ride but went to see the beautiful pottery at San Juan Oriente, the mirador overlooking Laguna Apoya (yet another volcano crater), into the way too civilized Masaya market and up to the barren lip of the still-smoking Volcan Masaya (nice exhibit in the visitor center about all the volcanoes in Nicaragua). But the most provocative thing came after that when we passed several “free trade zones” – factories where consumer good are assembled duty free with ridiculously low wages so we can buy them cheap in wal mart. The buses and bikes were lined up just inside the chain linked fences for the workers, to take them to their dingy, dirty homes just down the road that made the shanties in San Jose look almost posh.
Free trade zones and tourism. The path to economic advancement is a rocky one. “El Pobre del Mundo Arriba” exclaims the Ortega campaign poster. The same sentiment that makes foreign capital nervous, our zip line lawyer would say – he should stop hanging out with those crazy South American liberal leaders. And Shegher points out that statement could mean their numbers, not their power, are rising
Tonight Colette and I bobbed in the pool and talked – inexorably – of what needed to be done when we arrived home. Afterwards at dinner the family traded comparisons of best meals and best days on the trip, and then asked for the 4:30 am wake up to begin the journey home.
Ben - August 5, Late Morning
Hotel Alhambra
Granada, Nicaragua
August 5, 10:30 AM
Good morning to you from Granada, Nicaragua on a slow, rainy morning. It looks as though today will be a rather lethargic day for several reasons, not the least of which is that Rachel has been violently sick for the last 12 hours or so. Combined with the fact that it has been raining for the better part of the morning and that we had to scrap our original plans for the day (going to a lake and swimming, relaxing, eating, etc.), it looks as though we will be playing it by ear today. So far today, I have eaten breakfast, slept, and watched Manchester United vs. Chelsea in a soccer match from the English Premier League. Definitely a slow morning. Earlier, my dad and I went out to Kathy’s Waffle House for breakfast, which was very satisfying, while my mom stayed at the hotel with Rachel. Now, mom is out to breakfast while dad and I stay here in the room.
Sunday morning in Granada is an interesting scene. The large central park next to the hotel is filled with people playing music, people trying to sell stuff and people just walking around. Everywhere you go there are a massive amount of vendors trying to sell everything from Eskimo ice cream bars to hammocks to (often illegal) CDs and DVDs. As my dad and I ate breakfast, there were a number of people trying to sell their merchandise, which coincided with the amount of tourists eating at that restaurant. Certainly not a coincidence. Among them was a boy of about 10 or 11 trying to sell little wooden flute-type instruments, trilling them as he walked along the sidewalk. I also saw a girl trying to sell belts, as well as a woman who I recognized from a previous day selling hammocks.
We ate across the street from a very large church type building that I learned was an old convent. It is apparently the original building, several hundred years old, having survived the massive fire set by American William Walker in the mid 1800’s. Apparently Walker came down from America looking for a good scrap and found a war in Nicaragua. Possessing weapons and men, he promptly took control of the military and declared himself president. That lasted for about 6 months before the Nicaraguans decided to kick him out. Before he was forced out however, he set a humongous fire that burned down nearly all of Granada, his former base. This Franciscan convent however, which also housed Walker for a while, withstood the blaze and stands today. I think it is still an operational convent, a conclusion drawn from the fact that we heard a mass going on there this morning as we ate our breakfast.
As we walked back, we passed a group of teenagers playing soccer in an open area. It appeared that one team was dressed entirely in the jerseys of the FC Barcelona soccer team, while the other team wasn’t wearing any sort of uniform. Also, as we were walking back, we heard a series of absolutely massive bangs coming from the park area and rounded the corner to see a large cloud of smoke. My first thoughts were of gunshots, but I think it was just a bunch of fireworks. Hopefully Rachel will soon be feeling better and we will be able to engage in some sort of activity. We leave Granada tomorrow and stay in Managua one night before flying out early Tuesday morning. Adios!
Granada, Nicaragua
August 5, 10:30 AM
Good morning to you from Granada, Nicaragua on a slow, rainy morning. It looks as though today will be a rather lethargic day for several reasons, not the least of which is that Rachel has been violently sick for the last 12 hours or so. Combined with the fact that it has been raining for the better part of the morning and that we had to scrap our original plans for the day (going to a lake and swimming, relaxing, eating, etc.), it looks as though we will be playing it by ear today. So far today, I have eaten breakfast, slept, and watched Manchester United vs. Chelsea in a soccer match from the English Premier League. Definitely a slow morning. Earlier, my dad and I went out to Kathy’s Waffle House for breakfast, which was very satisfying, while my mom stayed at the hotel with Rachel. Now, mom is out to breakfast while dad and I stay here in the room.
Sunday morning in Granada is an interesting scene. The large central park next to the hotel is filled with people playing music, people trying to sell stuff and people just walking around. Everywhere you go there are a massive amount of vendors trying to sell everything from Eskimo ice cream bars to hammocks to (often illegal) CDs and DVDs. As my dad and I ate breakfast, there were a number of people trying to sell their merchandise, which coincided with the amount of tourists eating at that restaurant. Certainly not a coincidence. Among them was a boy of about 10 or 11 trying to sell little wooden flute-type instruments, trilling them as he walked along the sidewalk. I also saw a girl trying to sell belts, as well as a woman who I recognized from a previous day selling hammocks.
We ate across the street from a very large church type building that I learned was an old convent. It is apparently the original building, several hundred years old, having survived the massive fire set by American William Walker in the mid 1800’s. Apparently Walker came down from America looking for a good scrap and found a war in Nicaragua. Possessing weapons and men, he promptly took control of the military and declared himself president. That lasted for about 6 months before the Nicaraguans decided to kick him out. Before he was forced out however, he set a humongous fire that burned down nearly all of Granada, his former base. This Franciscan convent however, which also housed Walker for a while, withstood the blaze and stands today. I think it is still an operational convent, a conclusion drawn from the fact that we heard a mass going on there this morning as we ate our breakfast.
As we walked back, we passed a group of teenagers playing soccer in an open area. It appeared that one team was dressed entirely in the jerseys of the FC Barcelona soccer team, while the other team wasn’t wearing any sort of uniform. Also, as we were walking back, we heard a series of absolutely massive bangs coming from the park area and rounded the corner to see a large cloud of smoke. My first thoughts were of gunshots, but I think it was just a bunch of fireworks. Hopefully Rachel will soon be feeling better and we will be able to engage in some sort of activity. We leave Granada tomorrow and stay in Managua one night before flying out early Tuesday morning. Adios!
Dad - August 4, Night
Saturday August 4, 2007
Hotel Alhambra
Granada
(post pizza)
I am not sure William Walker would recognize, let alone approve of Granada these days – the central parque at 8 pm on a Saturday is buzzing comfortably with food vendors, men and couples hanging out on benches and the carriagemen.. The crafts sellers and the kid soccer players have mostly gone away, but there are a number of pavilions that are still selling food. Several of the arched loggias around the parque have restaurants laid out with diners making the scene. Next to the Cathedral which he burned down and was finally rebuilt in 1910 – the bright yellow exterior belying an austere, unadorned interior – the Calle Calzada stretches east to the Lago Nicaragua. The first four or five blocks are blocked off to auto traffic and the more intrepid restaurants have set out tables for eating.
The effect is not European or urban American chic. The public lighting is dimmer, the street is treeless, there aren’t enough crowds and the buildings are one story, brightly painted and free of ornamentation in the front. Well to do Nica families outnumber travelers in the restaurants and at the bumpy cross streets, there are streams of cars, tricks, walkers, bicyclers and horse drawn and carriages. (I noticed on Ometepe the way horses were used for transportation and work – not just recreation – and that extends even into the city).
This is a cool city. It has the colonial feel – colonnaded interior gardens that you glimpse through doors set in plain stucco fronts painted shades of yellow, red and aqua; tile roofs, even a tinny sounding cathedral bell that chimes the quarter hour. There are some impressive public buildings – none higher than three storeys. There are all sorts of nicely framed photographs waiting to be taken – with Volcan Mombacho or the Lago as backdrops.
But this is a working town, not a tourism museum. A few blocks away from the central square you hear the clunk of folding metal chairs dragged across the linoleum floor at a high school, and during the days the streets are choked with traffic. The market section is full of street vendors selling bootleg DVDs, food and clothing, sometimes under dark vinyl sheets under which you have thread your way past the stalls. Besides the hospedajes and internet cafes, the stores include video slot machine parlors, joyerias and barber shops. My early morning walk this am took me out of the hotel district within five blocks of the parque and then I was among Granadians walking to work, dirty crying kids, a few women – presumably Indian – walking smoothly erect with large wicker baskets balanced on their heads, dirty streets and guys hacking at the weeds in the campo de beisbol with their machetes. The Iglesia de la Merced – where William Walker had his inauguration - has a statues adorned with clothing, pictures framed by Christmas lights and the shepherd Jesus holding a toy stuffed lamb. The locals won’t surrender the City to the viajeroes and for that we should be glad.
I have finished the history of Nicaragua in the 80s, which holds the Sandinistas in higher esteem than the Reagan administration, but only by a split decision, and now have had a chance to ask a few Nicaraguans what it is like to have Daniel Ortega as president again. I am fascinated by the arc of a guy who was shooting up Somoza Regime leadership in the 60s, and now is preaching “peace” and “growth”, and cutting deals to maintain his political power. . The Nicas who speak English and deal with tourists generally take a dim view of Daniel. Although no longer the revolutionary, he loses points on the one hand because of the compromises he had made and on the other hand because – as the lawyer who sets up partnerships in Nicaragua for locals and foreigners says – “He still believes in that robin hood stuff and that does not work in the 21st century.”
“The table is set for him.” that guy continued. (meaning that the financial health of the country has improved, the military is reduced and under control, and foreigners are willing to invest, especially in tourism.) “Is he going to mind his manners or be a pig?”
(I suppose “being a pig” for a business person interested in getting his share of the foreign money, is just doing what is right for the kid in the Managua slum. Nicaragua remains the 2nd poorest country in the West, so there is still work to do)
Ortega would not have won last year, our Ometepe guide Johan maintained, if the conservatives had not split and the popular Sandinista splinter candidate had died during the campaign of a heart attack (or was it really, some asked). And all concede that his wife (partner?) is a nut case.
But the revolution is long past. The well meaning coffee pickers from the US have their memories. Private ownership is of course a good thing. People are more interested in emulating the life on FoxSports and CNN - getting a cell phone, a clothes washer and a car. It seems a given that while the political leadership may be crooked and venal, the prospects for a return to military repression is not even worth conceiving. Then the debates here are in some ways the same as in the US – how much effort do you spend on making the pie bigger vs the relative size of the slices.
That is where tourism comes in. Is it a parasitical economy or Nicaragua’s silver ring? We are in the southern corner of the country on the gringo trail – so it is all about tourism here. The Miami based architect/developer on our canopy tour today who is in country one week out of four as he does a big development on the pacific coast insists that eco- sensitive green development is the only way to go – but who makes that call? He thinks it is good that the Nica ministry overseeing him is getting stronger, but as a regulator, I want respect from my entities, not praise.
It is a whole different set of debates than the 80s, when Nicaragua was to be the second leg of the communist stool in the Central American/Caribbean, and we poured money into the contras and making misery. Now – fortunately for Nicaraguans, the American money is in canopy tours, not contras. And – as the T-shirt of the older, well meaning but loutish Californian guy on our canopy tour proclaimed, we have “Unleashed the Beast” of the Marines in the Middle East, not here.
Hotel Alhambra
Granada
(post pizza)
I am not sure William Walker would recognize, let alone approve of Granada these days – the central parque at 8 pm on a Saturday is buzzing comfortably with food vendors, men and couples hanging out on benches and the carriagemen.. The crafts sellers and the kid soccer players have mostly gone away, but there are a number of pavilions that are still selling food. Several of the arched loggias around the parque have restaurants laid out with diners making the scene. Next to the Cathedral which he burned down and was finally rebuilt in 1910 – the bright yellow exterior belying an austere, unadorned interior – the Calle Calzada stretches east to the Lago Nicaragua. The first four or five blocks are blocked off to auto traffic and the more intrepid restaurants have set out tables for eating.
The effect is not European or urban American chic. The public lighting is dimmer, the street is treeless, there aren’t enough crowds and the buildings are one story, brightly painted and free of ornamentation in the front. Well to do Nica families outnumber travelers in the restaurants and at the bumpy cross streets, there are streams of cars, tricks, walkers, bicyclers and horse drawn and carriages. (I noticed on Ometepe the way horses were used for transportation and work – not just recreation – and that extends even into the city).
This is a cool city. It has the colonial feel – colonnaded interior gardens that you glimpse through doors set in plain stucco fronts painted shades of yellow, red and aqua; tile roofs, even a tinny sounding cathedral bell that chimes the quarter hour. There are some impressive public buildings – none higher than three storeys. There are all sorts of nicely framed photographs waiting to be taken – with Volcan Mombacho or the Lago as backdrops.
But this is a working town, not a tourism museum. A few blocks away from the central square you hear the clunk of folding metal chairs dragged across the linoleum floor at a high school, and during the days the streets are choked with traffic. The market section is full of street vendors selling bootleg DVDs, food and clothing, sometimes under dark vinyl sheets under which you have thread your way past the stalls. Besides the hospedajes and internet cafes, the stores include video slot machine parlors, joyerias and barber shops. My early morning walk this am took me out of the hotel district within five blocks of the parque and then I was among Granadians walking to work, dirty crying kids, a few women – presumably Indian – walking smoothly erect with large wicker baskets balanced on their heads, dirty streets and guys hacking at the weeds in the campo de beisbol with their machetes. The Iglesia de la Merced – where William Walker had his inauguration - has a statues adorned with clothing, pictures framed by Christmas lights and the shepherd Jesus holding a toy stuffed lamb. The locals won’t surrender the City to the viajeroes and for that we should be glad.
I have finished the history of Nicaragua in the 80s, which holds the Sandinistas in higher esteem than the Reagan administration, but only by a split decision, and now have had a chance to ask a few Nicaraguans what it is like to have Daniel Ortega as president again. I am fascinated by the arc of a guy who was shooting up Somoza Regime leadership in the 60s, and now is preaching “peace” and “growth”, and cutting deals to maintain his political power. . The Nicas who speak English and deal with tourists generally take a dim view of Daniel. Although no longer the revolutionary, he loses points on the one hand because of the compromises he had made and on the other hand because – as the lawyer who sets up partnerships in Nicaragua for locals and foreigners says – “He still believes in that robin hood stuff and that does not work in the 21st century.”
“The table is set for him.” that guy continued. (meaning that the financial health of the country has improved, the military is reduced and under control, and foreigners are willing to invest, especially in tourism.) “Is he going to mind his manners or be a pig?”
(I suppose “being a pig” for a business person interested in getting his share of the foreign money, is just doing what is right for the kid in the Managua slum. Nicaragua remains the 2nd poorest country in the West, so there is still work to do)
Ortega would not have won last year, our Ometepe guide Johan maintained, if the conservatives had not split and the popular Sandinista splinter candidate had died during the campaign of a heart attack (or was it really, some asked). And all concede that his wife (partner?) is a nut case.
But the revolution is long past. The well meaning coffee pickers from the US have their memories. Private ownership is of course a good thing. People are more interested in emulating the life on FoxSports and CNN - getting a cell phone, a clothes washer and a car. It seems a given that while the political leadership may be crooked and venal, the prospects for a return to military repression is not even worth conceiving. Then the debates here are in some ways the same as in the US – how much effort do you spend on making the pie bigger vs the relative size of the slices.
That is where tourism comes in. Is it a parasitical economy or Nicaragua’s silver ring? We are in the southern corner of the country on the gringo trail – so it is all about tourism here. The Miami based architect/developer on our canopy tour today who is in country one week out of four as he does a big development on the pacific coast insists that eco- sensitive green development is the only way to go – but who makes that call? He thinks it is good that the Nica ministry overseeing him is getting stronger, but as a regulator, I want respect from my entities, not praise.
It is a whole different set of debates than the 80s, when Nicaragua was to be the second leg of the communist stool in the Central American/Caribbean, and we poured money into the contras and making misery. Now – fortunately for Nicaraguans, the American money is in canopy tours, not contras. And – as the T-shirt of the older, well meaning but loutish Californian guy on our canopy tour proclaimed, we have “Unleashed the Beast” of the Marines in the Middle East, not here.
Dad - August 2, Early Morning
Friday August 2, 2007
Hotel Finca Venecia, Ometepe
6:30 am
Take away the mosquitoes who are taking advantage of the windless day and this is a picturesque setting. I am on the front porch of our one room casita (2 stories, identical lay out, tile floor). Lago Nicaragua is 20 yards away with the far shore 15 miles off. A few large trees reach out across the shore – under one lies an overturned dugout canoe, thick and heavy. Jays are screeching in the trees – same color as our blue jays pero mas grande. Out on the lake, two fishermen are casting nets. There are stone piers in the water, where people come to do their wash. (“That is not very good for the clothes, is it?” Rachel asked.)
Ben did yeoman’s work on the hike yesterday so I will fill in few details about the island and how we got here. Trusty Luis spirited us away from Playa El Coco on Wednesday, back over the hills of the coast to san juan del sur and up to Rivas and San Jorge. Luis was quiet until we got into politics where he had more to say about the misery caused by Somoza than the pain caused by the Sandinistas and the contras. “Muy triste”, he would say with a detachment born from experience. After lunch we boarded the ferry for Ometepe. Prior to launch, the fun was watching the men of the port jeer other ferries as they came in and seeing them squeeze two trucks and a car on the ferry. All the commerce for the island has to pass through these ferries, so perhaps that limits the development on the island. An enormously fat guy kept jumping into the suspicious water, off the dredging boat next to us.
Ometepe is dominated by the two volcanoes – Concepcion and Maderas. Their tops are constantly in the clouds, but the perfect cones frame the island – breasts of the fallen lover in their version of the Romeo and Juliet story. I forewent the trashy latino soaps on the tv below deck and hung out on top with the Irish college kids, watching the captain who has taken off his uniform to navigate.
A tremendous shower greeted us at Moyogalpa, making the usual chaos of running the gauntlet of taxi drivers and tipsters more intense. Heidi’s Ometepe guy Marvin – hulking, with bad teeth and a harmless smile, like a sidekick in an old movie – was waiting for us. He shoved us into his turismo van and off we went. The road of Ometepe is no better than anywhere else, and Nicaraguans drive with caution – to protect their precious cars (Luis’s Elantra has 400k km on it). While the scrawny dogs and wandering chickens and pigs are all over the place, Ometepe is relatively prosperous, with well stocked tiendas and nice schools (“There is poverty here,” guide Johan said, “but not much misery. Not like the North”) From the volcano yesterday, the agriculture was apparent – with lots of small green plots stretching out all around us; the main crops are sesame, plantanes, coffee and corn.
Finca Venezia sits at the end of a long road on the shore. Its chief attribute is a nice rancho for meals, where you can get good Tilapia grilled in foil and a cold beer. The grounds are well tended – by a toothless old guy who doubles as the night watchman - and the clientele mixed and skewed towards backpackers and Europeans. Americans prefer their travel to be a little tidier in general.
Immediately to our south along shore is a beach and a refugio. Rachel and I had a very nice walk there yesterday afternoon, where she was able to bag a monkey sighting for this trip, along with scores of dark sea birds with long beaks and a strange cackle, lined up facing the wind in dead trees – kind of foreboding. Lizards were out in force, skittering across the trail.
Colette has appeared and seems to have shaken her bug, which will allow us to go to Granada today, assuming we can scare up some more cordobas from somewhere. Johan has fixed us up with his half brother for a ride – every body’s got a friend.
Hotel Finca Venecia, Ometepe
6:30 am
Take away the mosquitoes who are taking advantage of the windless day and this is a picturesque setting. I am on the front porch of our one room casita (2 stories, identical lay out, tile floor). Lago Nicaragua is 20 yards away with the far shore 15 miles off. A few large trees reach out across the shore – under one lies an overturned dugout canoe, thick and heavy. Jays are screeching in the trees – same color as our blue jays pero mas grande. Out on the lake, two fishermen are casting nets. There are stone piers in the water, where people come to do their wash. (“That is not very good for the clothes, is it?” Rachel asked.)
Ben did yeoman’s work on the hike yesterday so I will fill in few details about the island and how we got here. Trusty Luis spirited us away from Playa El Coco on Wednesday, back over the hills of the coast to san juan del sur and up to Rivas and San Jorge. Luis was quiet until we got into politics where he had more to say about the misery caused by Somoza than the pain caused by the Sandinistas and the contras. “Muy triste”, he would say with a detachment born from experience. After lunch we boarded the ferry for Ometepe. Prior to launch, the fun was watching the men of the port jeer other ferries as they came in and seeing them squeeze two trucks and a car on the ferry. All the commerce for the island has to pass through these ferries, so perhaps that limits the development on the island. An enormously fat guy kept jumping into the suspicious water, off the dredging boat next to us.
Ometepe is dominated by the two volcanoes – Concepcion and Maderas. Their tops are constantly in the clouds, but the perfect cones frame the island – breasts of the fallen lover in their version of the Romeo and Juliet story. I forewent the trashy latino soaps on the tv below deck and hung out on top with the Irish college kids, watching the captain who has taken off his uniform to navigate.
A tremendous shower greeted us at Moyogalpa, making the usual chaos of running the gauntlet of taxi drivers and tipsters more intense. Heidi’s Ometepe guy Marvin – hulking, with bad teeth and a harmless smile, like a sidekick in an old movie – was waiting for us. He shoved us into his turismo van and off we went. The road of Ometepe is no better than anywhere else, and Nicaraguans drive with caution – to protect their precious cars (Luis’s Elantra has 400k km on it). While the scrawny dogs and wandering chickens and pigs are all over the place, Ometepe is relatively prosperous, with well stocked tiendas and nice schools (“There is poverty here,” guide Johan said, “but not much misery. Not like the North”) From the volcano yesterday, the agriculture was apparent – with lots of small green plots stretching out all around us; the main crops are sesame, plantanes, coffee and corn.
Finca Venezia sits at the end of a long road on the shore. Its chief attribute is a nice rancho for meals, where you can get good Tilapia grilled in foil and a cold beer. The grounds are well tended – by a toothless old guy who doubles as the night watchman - and the clientele mixed and skewed towards backpackers and Europeans. Americans prefer their travel to be a little tidier in general.
Immediately to our south along shore is a beach and a refugio. Rachel and I had a very nice walk there yesterday afternoon, where she was able to bag a monkey sighting for this trip, along with scores of dark sea birds with long beaks and a strange cackle, lined up facing the wind in dead trees – kind of foreboding. Lizards were out in force, skittering across the trail.
Colette has appeared and seems to have shaken her bug, which will allow us to go to Granada today, assuming we can scare up some more cordobas from somewhere. Johan has fixed us up with his half brother for a ride – every body’s got a friend.
Ben - August 1, Later afternoon
August 1, 4:45 PM
Hotel Finca Venecia
Ometepe, Nicaragua
Hola from the volcanic island of Ometepe in the middle of Lago de Nicaragua. It’s a beautiful late afternoon as we relax in our hotel room. As I mentioned, we are on the volcanic island of Ometepe in the middle of the biggest lake in Nicaragua. Ometepe is an isolated island 20-25 miles across with 38,000 residents. It sits in the middle of Lago de Nicaragua (also called Lake Cocibolca), which as its name suggests (the translation is ‘lake of Nicaragua’) is the biggest lake in the country. It is humongous, slightly smaller than Puerto Rico. It is largely a farming culture; it is not an uncommon occurrence to see cattle, pigs, dogs, or chickens wandering the streets. There are several towns, including one called Los Angeles, where there are shops, restaurants, banks, etc., although it seems that the majority of the culture is centered around agriculture and farming. I mentioned it was a volcanic island; there are two volcanoes on the island – Concepcion and Maderas. Maderas is dormant, while Concepcion remains active, last making some noise in 1957.
Today, Dad and I decided to hike Concepcion, which necessitated us getting up at 6 am. We went to the restaurant area where we were told we would be provided with breakfast and some sandwiches for lunch later. So we went. We sat. We waited. No food came. No people came. Our company was two dogs – one calm, medium sized dog that was very furry and one hyper, overactive, young Dalmatian that was begging for love and attention. So then our guide and driver arrived, and we told we had no breakfast or lunch. Our guide was a young man named Johan from Ometepe who spoke good English and had a wife from Michigan who seemed very nice. We drove into town for breakfast at a small restaurant. There my dad and Johan had a long discussion about Nicaraguan politics that I had trouble following. We bought some bread and fixings for lunch and set out for the hike. Concepcion was around 5,000 feet or so, making a formidable hike, but on the way there, our guide informed us that the volcano had been a bit active lately – spewing some ash and such. While that didn’t affect most of the mountain, he told us, we wouldn’t be able to approach the summit, and we would have to stop at about 2/3 of the way up. As I soon found out, that was still far enough.
We set out on the trail, which began with a long stretch of flat trail before starting the ascent. We soon come upon 2 other groups that included a woman from Michigan, a young man and woman from Denmark and two older men from Spain. As the trail started to rise, it became clear that this was a fairly steep trail. Johan set a quick pace early on and we continued the hike. The trail got continually steeper and there was a great deal of vegetation growing right around the path. Johan pointed out a number of plants and animals and seemed very knowledgeable about the hike. The hike was becoming increasingly difficult made more so by the fact that Johan was continuing on his very rapid pace. I’m in pretty good shape, but I was working extremely hard to keep up and keep going. The trail was extremely steep and where there would’ve been switchbacks on most hikes, the trail kept going straight at a very steep grade. By the time we reached our stopping point, an open grassy plateau, I was exhausted and I was not helped by the slightly sickening (to me at least) smell of sulfur that occasionally wafted down from the summit. I flopped down and simply sat there for several minutes, prompting a couple questions about whether I was ok from my dad. I was used to fairly long hikes, but it was not the distance that made me so tired, rather the steep grade and the rapid pace. Indeed, we covered the 3300-3400 vertical climb in less than two hours and arrived at the stopping point a good 20 minutes ahead of the other groups, who had started before us. After a light lunch, some water, and some good rest, I was ready to go back down. The way down, punctuated by some rain showers, was much easier and quicker and was fun.
So we went back to the hotel to find that the ladies had not done anything all day because my mom had become sick and was feeling nauseous and unwell. So here I am back at the hotel, with mom sleeping and trying to overcome her sickness and everyone else reading, relaxing, etc. Tomorrow, we leave for the old colonial town of Granada where we will stay three nights before going to the capitol city of Managua where we will fly out on Tuesday. So until later, adios!
Hotel Finca Venecia
Ometepe, Nicaragua
Hola from the volcanic island of Ometepe in the middle of Lago de Nicaragua. It’s a beautiful late afternoon as we relax in our hotel room. As I mentioned, we are on the volcanic island of Ometepe in the middle of the biggest lake in Nicaragua. Ometepe is an isolated island 20-25 miles across with 38,000 residents. It sits in the middle of Lago de Nicaragua (also called Lake Cocibolca), which as its name suggests (the translation is ‘lake of Nicaragua’) is the biggest lake in the country. It is humongous, slightly smaller than Puerto Rico. It is largely a farming culture; it is not an uncommon occurrence to see cattle, pigs, dogs, or chickens wandering the streets. There are several towns, including one called Los Angeles, where there are shops, restaurants, banks, etc., although it seems that the majority of the culture is centered around agriculture and farming. I mentioned it was a volcanic island; there are two volcanoes on the island – Concepcion and Maderas. Maderas is dormant, while Concepcion remains active, last making some noise in 1957.
Today, Dad and I decided to hike Concepcion, which necessitated us getting up at 6 am. We went to the restaurant area where we were told we would be provided with breakfast and some sandwiches for lunch later. So we went. We sat. We waited. No food came. No people came. Our company was two dogs – one calm, medium sized dog that was very furry and one hyper, overactive, young Dalmatian that was begging for love and attention. So then our guide and driver arrived, and we told we had no breakfast or lunch. Our guide was a young man named Johan from Ometepe who spoke good English and had a wife from Michigan who seemed very nice. We drove into town for breakfast at a small restaurant. There my dad and Johan had a long discussion about Nicaraguan politics that I had trouble following. We bought some bread and fixings for lunch and set out for the hike. Concepcion was around 5,000 feet or so, making a formidable hike, but on the way there, our guide informed us that the volcano had been a bit active lately – spewing some ash and such. While that didn’t affect most of the mountain, he told us, we wouldn’t be able to approach the summit, and we would have to stop at about 2/3 of the way up. As I soon found out, that was still far enough.
We set out on the trail, which began with a long stretch of flat trail before starting the ascent. We soon come upon 2 other groups that included a woman from Michigan, a young man and woman from Denmark and two older men from Spain. As the trail started to rise, it became clear that this was a fairly steep trail. Johan set a quick pace early on and we continued the hike. The trail got continually steeper and there was a great deal of vegetation growing right around the path. Johan pointed out a number of plants and animals and seemed very knowledgeable about the hike. The hike was becoming increasingly difficult made more so by the fact that Johan was continuing on his very rapid pace. I’m in pretty good shape, but I was working extremely hard to keep up and keep going. The trail was extremely steep and where there would’ve been switchbacks on most hikes, the trail kept going straight at a very steep grade. By the time we reached our stopping point, an open grassy plateau, I was exhausted and I was not helped by the slightly sickening (to me at least) smell of sulfur that occasionally wafted down from the summit. I flopped down and simply sat there for several minutes, prompting a couple questions about whether I was ok from my dad. I was used to fairly long hikes, but it was not the distance that made me so tired, rather the steep grade and the rapid pace. Indeed, we covered the 3300-3400 vertical climb in less than two hours and arrived at the stopping point a good 20 minutes ahead of the other groups, who had started before us. After a light lunch, some water, and some good rest, I was ready to go back down. The way down, punctuated by some rain showers, was much easier and quicker and was fun.
So we went back to the hotel to find that the ladies had not done anything all day because my mom had become sick and was feeling nauseous and unwell. So here I am back at the hotel, with mom sleeping and trying to overcome her sickness and everyone else reading, relaxing, etc. Tomorrow, we leave for the old colonial town of Granada where we will stay three nights before going to the capitol city of Managua where we will fly out on Tuesday. So until later, adios!
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