The Ramblers Continue

Well, lots has happened since we last posted something historic. So, in brief (the details you have to ask about over a coffee or a beer when we get home), we came to Léon by way of the wind. Somewhere around two weeks ago, we went to San Jose in order to catch a bus to Granada, Nicaragua to begin some Spanish study. When we arrived to the station, we learned that that specific bus did not stop in Granada, so we either would have to get off somewhere and take another bus or just go to a different place altogether. We decided on Rivas, which is near the border and is the stopping point to getting to the island Ometepe (see map below). Ometepe is a volcanic island in Lago de Nicaragua. There are two volcanoes that were formed some gazillion years ago, and over time, they rose out of the lake and then formed an isthmus between them. The more northern one is called La Concepción, which is bigger, steeper, and still active. The southern one is called Las Maderas and is no longer active, but is covered with thick jungle and has a lagoon at the top. They rise over 3,000 feet in that very short time. Shannon and I (with a guide and some other extranjeros) hiked to the top of Maderas. It took about 4.5 hours to reach the top, and though there was no view due to the trees, the jungle was amazing, gradually changing as the elevation rose. Both volcanoes are almost constantly enshrouded by clouds, which caused three things relevant for our hike: it was cold and wet arriba, the cloud was too thick to even see the other side of the lagoon at the top, and the trail from about half way up was gooshy mud pie that completely slathered your feet. But, as locals would say (although maybe not about hiking up a volcano), ¡vale la pena!

We stayed in a little eco permaculture farm/hostel that was owned by Italians. It´s an excellent place, and everything was great, except that Shannon got sick for a day and my shoes got nicked while they were drying from the mud adventure. Well, at least I still have some sandals. From there we went to Granada, which is a beautiful, touristy city where we stayed for three days. Now we are in Léon.

Léon is a university town (don´t get your hopes up - it´s real Nicaragua, not too touristy, and very dirty, as is the wont here). But it does have a rich feeling, and the history (both colonial and recent) has left indellible marks on the appearance and the people. The biggest cathedral in Central America is here, which is also the third biggest cathedral in Latin America (the first in Mexico, the second in Peru). We arrived Friday, stayed in a great little hostel that has free pancakes for breakfast and free organic coffee all day. One of the sad ironies about traveling in Central America has been the coffee. The normal, everyday coffee that people drink is of low quality and made weak. The high quality is all exported. However, you can find good coffee if you look for it, but the places that serve it are usually owned by ex-pats and cater to the foreigner. Yesterday, for example, while I was having a fresca (a juice drink with water and sugar, in this case a fruit, or actually a seed, that I have never heard of and still have no idea what it was besides tasty), an old man in a farmer´s hat came in and asked for a cafecito. The young guy behind the bar proceded to pour a package of instant coffee into a styrofoam cup and fill it with hot water. Well, call me naive, but I can´t help but wonder why, socioeconomically speaking, people have to buy prepackaged, low quality coffee that has been processed in another country when gobs of coffee is produced here, less than 100 miles away from the city. Okay, roasting and processing is a problem in a poor country (Nicaragua is apparently the second poorest country in the western hemisphere, after Haiti), but I wonder that people have not developed a taste for at least decent coffee.

Even in our little homestay, we are served instant coffee in the morning that was processed in Mexico. Which leads me to the homestay. Well, Shannon and I began taking Spanish classes on Monday, and began our homestay Sunday night. Our first night we were separated in the belief that we would be with a family by ourselves, speaking Spanish, and feeling, at least a little, like part of the family for brief spell. In both of our houses, there were other gringos staying there, and there were one or two women who worked in the house, actually doing most of the food preparation and cleaning. Since we clearly were not going to be alone, we joined each other in one house. But to call the experience a homestay is certainly a stretch. Technically, we are staying in home. Considering that there are other foreigners staying there with same intention of studying Spanish in school and living with a family (in total we are four right now), it is more like a guest house that they are running out of their home. Which is fine for what it is. But I think the English language needs a new word to describe more accurately the type of stay this is. The food is pretty good, the bed is quite uncomfortable, but there are a couple kids, 8 & 13, and the people are extremely friendly. So for one week, it's great. For two, well, I'll let you know next week. As for the classes, they are pretty good. For me, I quickly realized that I am almost beyond classes at this point (at least these classes) because I pretty much know all the grammar (of course I still make tons of mistakes). The problem is just speaking and using Spanish consistently, and the class has been good because I have learned a little and I am being forced to use it for 3.5 hours a day. Really what I need though is to go into the main square and have conversations with the old men who are former revolutionary Sandinistas (I met one yesterday who was interesting and friendly). Vamos a ver.

Nicaragua is very different from Costa Rica, ranging from the accent of the language to the feel of the cities to the state of the environment. I won't go into details right now but suffice it to say that trash (particularly the countless plastic bags that get used once and tossed away) is a rampant problem. People have no awareness of the problems that litter cause, and so nearly everyone just drops the waste into the street, grass, dirt, whereever, even if a rubbish pail is 3 feet away. It's a question of education and custom, two things are slow to change. The accent is a bit harder to understand than in Costa Rica, but I like the feeling of the cities much better. So until the next post, carry on, y ¡que les vayan bien!