We are moving a little slow the next morning after a late night of celebrating just because! Breakfast is in order before attempting the chicken buses and the roads. It's an easy decision to go one last time to the market for eggs, fresh-made tortillas, beans, salad and plaintain all for $2.50!!!
Our first leg of travel is 5hrs to Managua, Nicaragua. This is a large city and major hub for switching buses and moving onwards. There is not much else for a tourist to see and do so it is actually welcoming to just stay in our room for the night, watch movies and rest for our 13 hour day starting at 6am the next morning.
The Honduras border is close so most of our Tica bus adventure takes us through an exploration of the countryside . Beautiful hills trace around what still looks like very poor living conditions. Quite a contrast but nothing too shocking after all that we have seen already throughout Nicaragua. At the border we change over our Cordoba's for Lempira so that we can enjoy some roadside grub which once again resembles that of basically carbs and meat!!!
Our destination is San Pedro Sula which is second biggest to the capital city Tegucigalpa. By the time we arrive all that is left to do is find dinner and an ATM before another morning of travel to our final destination which is Copan, 5 hours away. Similar to Nicaraugua, the chicken buses here are a source of entertainment in themselves! People on and off selling things, the scenery and the driving. This particular morning our bus driver thought he was Jaques Villeneuve training for the F1! Swinging the back end from side to side, passing tractor trailers on the left then weaving in and out was just the way of the road here - it's amazing how easily we put our trust in some stranger to get us somewhere without even questioning driving etiquette or capability.
We arrive safe in Copan, a charming town of steep cobbled streets and red-tiled roofs set among green hills. Besides its' proximity to the infamous archeological site of Copan, there seems to be so much more to offer the weary traveller with the beautiful countryside and cute cafes and shops to pass the time.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Superbowl Sunday
Back in San Juan now. Superbowl Sunday rolls around quickly which means the Terrible Towel is coming out!! Danny is FIRED up for the big game - GO STEELERS!!! It is a nostalgic day for him, for over 30 years it has been tradition that he and the boys get together for a game of touch football before watching the big game all together. This will be his first year missing the camaderie yet still nice to be enjoying the game in shorts with flipflops.
The Steelers lose but it is an entertaining game nonetheless and the atmoshpere at the bar was everything Danny could hope for.
Pack it up pack it in (no pun intended), looking ahead to a few long days of travel to get up to the Honduras border and over into Copan where we will spend the next 5 nights...
The Steelers lose but it is an entertaining game nonetheless and the atmoshpere at the bar was everything Danny could hope for.
Pack it up pack it in (no pun intended), looking ahead to a few long days of travel to get up to the Honduras border and over into Copan where we will spend the next 5 nights...
Saturday, February 12, 2011
The bikeride of bump and bruises
Next stop, Ometepe Island in the middle of Lake Nicaragua! This requires a local bus back to Rivas where we pick up the ferry for a couple of dollars (Cordobas) and about a 1 hour ride. According to our travel book, the more popular activities on the island include hiking one of the two valcanos, relaxing on the beach and bikeriding around the coast. Sounds like a plan! Whatever happens however, we absolutely need to be back in surftown to catch the SuperBowl game since that seemed to be Danny's best bet at having any sort of party atmosphere in a sporty type of setting.
During our stay in San Juan we had scored a really sweet apartment with a kitchen and a balcony above the only Irish pub in town. Even better was that our plan to come back meant that we could leave our backpacks in storage so that our trip to the island could be done with our day packs only.
Once on the island we score a ride with a bunch of other travellers to take us into Santo Domingo which is a very small stretch of beach in between the 2 valcanos. The island is shaped as a figure 8 and the choice of transportation includes one very rare and inconsistent bus or motorbike/bicycle/horse rental. Of course there is always the option for hitching or hiking. We find a hostel called Buena Vista with a very appealing back section overlooking what was once the beach and an even more attractive price tag of $18 for the room for the night!!! The area had recently experienced the heaviest rainy season in 70 years and we were quite happy to settle for the resulting waves crashing up against the deck of our hostel as background noise and what also made for an absolutely mesmorising visual.
Time to scope out the area and figure out our next day. The one and only place to buy water and snacks also serves as our source for information and rentals. Our hostess who doesn't speak one word of English seems to suggest with confidence that taking a bike ride around Volcano Maderas would be 'bonita' and a good idea. From what I understand, done 'rapido' the ride should take 4 hours which sounds like a great introduction to the coast of the island and all the beauty it has to offer. I wake up the next morning with a sore back and very hesitantly back out of the ride figuring it is the smarter thing to do. We go over the map one more time as Danny makes his final preperations for the day ahead: one pocket with his camera, another pocket full of cash, skin lathered with SPF which warrants a no-shirt policy as far as he is concerned. Off he pedals into the smooth cobblestone path as I turn the other way to welcome my day of solitude and relaxation. Ahead are a few Americans and I strike up converstaion asking them about what they know about the area. "Whatever you do, DON'T rent a bike and go THAT way" one says as he points towards in the direction where my most recent memory moments ago were of Danny's trailing words 'good bye' and 'see you later'. The American insists "The trail is absolutely brutal and I would never reccomend it to anybody!". These precautions start ringing in my head as my heart skips a beat and I feel helpless in the cause to warn Danny. Apparently, the smooth ground I am standing on only lasts for another 50 feet before its' unpredictable terrain unravels into it's natural state of uneven rocks and boulders. There is only one thing I can do: wait.
Perhaps the average person on what is less than an average bicycle may figure that 10 minutes into this harsh path was enough to warrant throwing in the big fat white fluffy towel. Except Danny is by far an average person. He loves to push the limits and conquer the unknown with fists pumping and fires blazing...this is one of the many reasons I love him so....so, I wait.
5 hours later the brave warrior himself appears bruised but not broken. He orders a cold Tona as he recounts the days events. I listen with wonder as he explains his first four hours of a head-to-the-ground and pound white-knuckling experience. There is no opportunity for sight-seeing or picture taking as he was just merely trying to stay upright and fight the terrain. He finally stopped at a rest point to buy water at which point in his refined version of sign-language Spanish, asked a local how much further? She took one look at his bicycle and back at him with a shake of her finger to explain "not a good idea, but the bus will be here in 10 minutes!" So, he waited. As he soon found out, the last 6 km were so brutal that even the bus had trouble lumbering up and through and beyond. We still don't understand exactly what our hostess meant by 'bonita', but it doesn't matter, Danny survived and is living to tell the story!!
Needless to say, neither of us was in any shape to climb any volcano the next day and instead opted for a lazy 20 minute walk to the Eye of the Water, a man-made Natural Spring Pool which proved to be just what the Doctor ordered.
During our stay in San Juan we had scored a really sweet apartment with a kitchen and a balcony above the only Irish pub in town. Even better was that our plan to come back meant that we could leave our backpacks in storage so that our trip to the island could be done with our day packs only.
Once on the island we score a ride with a bunch of other travellers to take us into Santo Domingo which is a very small stretch of beach in between the 2 valcanos. The island is shaped as a figure 8 and the choice of transportation includes one very rare and inconsistent bus or motorbike/bicycle/horse rental. Of course there is always the option for hitching or hiking. We find a hostel called Buena Vista with a very appealing back section overlooking what was once the beach and an even more attractive price tag of $18 for the room for the night!!! The area had recently experienced the heaviest rainy season in 70 years and we were quite happy to settle for the resulting waves crashing up against the deck of our hostel as background noise and what also made for an absolutely mesmorising visual.
Time to scope out the area and figure out our next day. The one and only place to buy water and snacks also serves as our source for information and rentals. Our hostess who doesn't speak one word of English seems to suggest with confidence that taking a bike ride around Volcano Maderas would be 'bonita' and a good idea. From what I understand, done 'rapido' the ride should take 4 hours which sounds like a great introduction to the coast of the island and all the beauty it has to offer. I wake up the next morning with a sore back and very hesitantly back out of the ride figuring it is the smarter thing to do. We go over the map one more time as Danny makes his final preperations for the day ahead: one pocket with his camera, another pocket full of cash, skin lathered with SPF which warrants a no-shirt policy as far as he is concerned. Off he pedals into the smooth cobblestone path as I turn the other way to welcome my day of solitude and relaxation. Ahead are a few Americans and I strike up converstaion asking them about what they know about the area. "Whatever you do, DON'T rent a bike and go THAT way" one says as he points towards in the direction where my most recent memory moments ago were of Danny's trailing words 'good bye' and 'see you later'. The American insists "The trail is absolutely brutal and I would never reccomend it to anybody!". These precautions start ringing in my head as my heart skips a beat and I feel helpless in the cause to warn Danny. Apparently, the smooth ground I am standing on only lasts for another 50 feet before its' unpredictable terrain unravels into it's natural state of uneven rocks and boulders. There is only one thing I can do: wait.
Perhaps the average person on what is less than an average bicycle may figure that 10 minutes into this harsh path was enough to warrant throwing in the big fat white fluffy towel. Except Danny is by far an average person. He loves to push the limits and conquer the unknown with fists pumping and fires blazing...this is one of the many reasons I love him so....so, I wait.
5 hours later the brave warrior himself appears bruised but not broken. He orders a cold Tona as he recounts the days events. I listen with wonder as he explains his first four hours of a head-to-the-ground and pound white-knuckling experience. There is no opportunity for sight-seeing or picture taking as he was just merely trying to stay upright and fight the terrain. He finally stopped at a rest point to buy water at which point in his refined version of sign-language Spanish, asked a local how much further? She took one look at his bicycle and back at him with a shake of her finger to explain "not a good idea, but the bus will be here in 10 minutes!" So, he waited. As he soon found out, the last 6 km were so brutal that even the bus had trouble lumbering up and through and beyond. We still don't understand exactly what our hostess meant by 'bonita', but it doesn't matter, Danny survived and is living to tell the story!!
Needless to say, neither of us was in any shape to climb any volcano the next day and instead opted for a lazy 20 minute walk to the Eye of the Water, a man-made Natural Spring Pool which proved to be just what the Doctor ordered.
The sunny side of Nicaragua
Fresh meat! That is what we are every time we step off a bus, arrive by cab or wobble into town backpack strapped clearly marking our vulnerability. Although we have been learning along the way to always keep small denominations of currency and always get a third and fourth opinion, the matter of fact is, we are 'fresh off the boat' every town we hit. San Juan del Sur is no different and on this late Friday afternoon, everybody wants a piece of the meat. We settle for really basic lodging that night which will run us $20 for the 3 of us!!! Happy Days as Danny says!!! It is time to check out the scene to see what the next few days have in store for us.
The beach itself is very welcoming and the sand feels good under our bare feet again. I am glad that Tim gets to experience some side of the Pacific before he leaves and especially on this night when the sun is setting so beautifully! The crowd seems like a mixed bunch if I can explain it best would be: rasta/artsy/eco-concsious/surfer/older American $$$$/local Nica kind of a feel!
It becomes obvious again that what sets this country apart from its' neighbour is exactly what Costa Rica might have been at one time. More and more foriegners are slowly exploring their options to travel a bit more off the beaten path in Nicaragua where one can truly feel the culture, experience the people and be inspired by local art without any pressure to act like a tourist. The movement is evident with the influx of young entrepreneurs opening up shop with a concept that back home in Canada, the States or the UK could only be a pipe dream. Cafe's serving only local produce with an added English bookstore, a bakery which use's an ingredient other than white enriched flour and a Smoothie shack where one can check the board for the latest news in yoga classes seem to be the more popular choices for those looking for a little piece from home but still with a local flair and feel. What remains consistent however is the consientious effort to enhance the culture while supporting the people and preserving the environment.
For the remainder of the weekend the weather remains hot and sunny which only reminds Tim more of what he will be missing as his departure date approaches. We sadly say goodbye as he sets off on what is sure to be another long day of travel across the border but well worth the time spent together and the memories forever cherished. Bon Voyage Tim and see you at home:-)
The beach itself is very welcoming and the sand feels good under our bare feet again. I am glad that Tim gets to experience some side of the Pacific before he leaves and especially on this night when the sun is setting so beautifully! The crowd seems like a mixed bunch if I can explain it best would be: rasta/artsy/eco-concsious/surfer/older American $$$$/local Nica kind of a feel!
It becomes obvious again that what sets this country apart from its' neighbour is exactly what Costa Rica might have been at one time. More and more foriegners are slowly exploring their options to travel a bit more off the beaten path in Nicaragua where one can truly feel the culture, experience the people and be inspired by local art without any pressure to act like a tourist. The movement is evident with the influx of young entrepreneurs opening up shop with a concept that back home in Canada, the States or the UK could only be a pipe dream. Cafe's serving only local produce with an added English bookstore, a bakery which use's an ingredient other than white enriched flour and a Smoothie shack where one can check the board for the latest news in yoga classes seem to be the more popular choices for those looking for a little piece from home but still with a local flair and feel. What remains consistent however is the consientious effort to enhance the culture while supporting the people and preserving the environment.
For the remainder of the weekend the weather remains hot and sunny which only reminds Tim more of what he will be missing as his departure date approaches. We sadly say goodbye as he sets off on what is sure to be another long day of travel across the border but well worth the time spent together and the memories forever cherished. Bon Voyage Tim and see you at home:-)
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Buses and Chickens
Granada is a city rich in History and Culture. The evidence from Colonial times shows through the architecture and especially the old churchs. The scene is very refreshing as the sun rises to cap off our 26 hour travel ordeal. Sleeping on the Ferry has been one of my highlights so far. There has been nothing or nowhere yet to compare to the blanket of stars on this night which accompanied us all along our journey. Their presence was a reminder of how really insignificant our problems can actually seem: when it feels as if the stars are watching you then it manifests into a very humbling experience.
Finding Hostel Oasis was true to its' name and it couldn't be soon enough before we hopped onto a hammok or jumped into the pool. Exploring Granada was fun and exciting. There was an obvious difference in the vibe here compared to other similar cities in Costa Rica: more energy, the people were more aggressive and there was less of a touristy feel. The market area was extremely basic yet intricate at the same time, as if we were in a maze of produce and meat and cheese and flour and just plain stuff being displayed for the purpose of exchange. Everybody is selling something somewhere whether it is in the market, on the street corner, in Central Park, out of their home, at your table and even on the bus!!! Something, somewhere, everywhere...anything is possible!!!
The prices are noticeably cheaper compared to Costa Rica so we decide to live a little large. Eating out, hitting the patios, visiting the local gym and getting our laundry done for us! Time with Tim is slowly coming to a close yet we are excited to still share one more destination with him before he heads back home. San Juan Del Sur lies against the Pacific Ocean close to the (other) border to Costa Rica and is an up and coming popular destination for young surfers and what seems like older Americans looking to capatilize on new and hot property investment. Between our current location and getting there however, requires a ride on the Chicken Bus, 2 of them in fact! I have been anticipating this experience with a bit of anxiety already knowing what is possible on this trip. According to my research and accounts from other travellers, the chicken bus is where 'it' happens: THEFT! Why is it called the chicken bus? Well, literally the chickens ride the bus...once the market closes at about 2pm, everybody and thier daughter is closing up shop and making their respective ways home with inventory on hand just to bring back again the following day.
We are some of the first to get on the bus which means we get a seat, although departure time is not disclosed. We figure the same itinery applies to that of the boat, departure time is when all the seats are full. Rule #1 when travelling on the chicken bus: do not let your bag out of sight!!! Not to be a paranoid adventurer but it has been known that when your bag goes on the roofrack, say bye bye baby....what happens is, the bus makes random stops, picking up other people and dropping off cargo etc.... alot of these transactions are happening right through the back door and eventually become hard to keep track of. One chosen person is organizing this system and half the time, he is riding either on the outside back ladder or right on top with the rest of the cargo, for all we know....he disappears then reappears and all the while there are people on the side of the road giving and recieving other bits of 'stuff'! It would be very easy for our backpacks to go 'missing' and without our awareness for the whole 2 hour ride. So when it is suggested that we have to put our bags on the rack, suddenly mine and Tim's Spanish became very clear and Danny's sign language just aggressive enough that the bus driver understands we are not willing to part with our packs!!! As the seats fill up and more + more cargo is loaded in the back, the bus rambles off and my eyes cling to our belongings like a newborn on a nipple. At every stop there is a shift in the dynamics of our surroundings as entreprenuers fill up the aisle selling chicklets, coconut cookies, sunglasses, you name it!! Our changeover is totally chaotic as we are dumped off the back of one bus and tumble into the back of our connecting one.
Safe and sound, I can actually enjoy this ride as I gaze out the window to absorb what will eventually be our next destination...
Finding Hostel Oasis was true to its' name and it couldn't be soon enough before we hopped onto a hammok or jumped into the pool. Exploring Granada was fun and exciting. There was an obvious difference in the vibe here compared to other similar cities in Costa Rica: more energy, the people were more aggressive and there was less of a touristy feel. The market area was extremely basic yet intricate at the same time, as if we were in a maze of produce and meat and cheese and flour and just plain stuff being displayed for the purpose of exchange. Everybody is selling something somewhere whether it is in the market, on the street corner, in Central Park, out of their home, at your table and even on the bus!!! Something, somewhere, everywhere...anything is possible!!!
The prices are noticeably cheaper compared to Costa Rica so we decide to live a little large. Eating out, hitting the patios, visiting the local gym and getting our laundry done for us! Time with Tim is slowly coming to a close yet we are excited to still share one more destination with him before he heads back home. San Juan Del Sur lies against the Pacific Ocean close to the (other) border to Costa Rica and is an up and coming popular destination for young surfers and what seems like older Americans looking to capatilize on new and hot property investment. Between our current location and getting there however, requires a ride on the Chicken Bus, 2 of them in fact! I have been anticipating this experience with a bit of anxiety already knowing what is possible on this trip. According to my research and accounts from other travellers, the chicken bus is where 'it' happens: THEFT! Why is it called the chicken bus? Well, literally the chickens ride the bus...once the market closes at about 2pm, everybody and thier daughter is closing up shop and making their respective ways home with inventory on hand just to bring back again the following day.
We are some of the first to get on the bus which means we get a seat, although departure time is not disclosed. We figure the same itinery applies to that of the boat, departure time is when all the seats are full. Rule #1 when travelling on the chicken bus: do not let your bag out of sight!!! Not to be a paranoid adventurer but it has been known that when your bag goes on the roofrack, say bye bye baby....what happens is, the bus makes random stops, picking up other people and dropping off cargo etc.... alot of these transactions are happening right through the back door and eventually become hard to keep track of. One chosen person is organizing this system and half the time, he is riding either on the outside back ladder or right on top with the rest of the cargo, for all we know....he disappears then reappears and all the while there are people on the side of the road giving and recieving other bits of 'stuff'! It would be very easy for our backpacks to go 'missing' and without our awareness for the whole 2 hour ride. So when it is suggested that we have to put our bags on the rack, suddenly mine and Tim's Spanish became very clear and Danny's sign language just aggressive enough that the bus driver understands we are not willing to part with our packs!!! As the seats fill up and more + more cargo is loaded in the back, the bus rambles off and my eyes cling to our belongings like a newborn on a nipple. At every stop there is a shift in the dynamics of our surroundings as entreprenuers fill up the aisle selling chicklets, coconut cookies, sunglasses, you name it!! Our changeover is totally chaotic as we are dumped off the back of one bus and tumble into the back of our connecting one.
Safe and sound, I can actually enjoy this ride as I gaze out the window to absorb what will eventually be our next destination...
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
beyond tired until it's funny!
The morning of our departure for Nicaragua began super early as we were warned that it was imperative to catch the last Ferry out of San Carlos at 2pm that day to take us across Lago de Nicaragua for our ultimate destination, Granada. Otherwise we would be stranded for another 3 days in this port town with a very bad reputation for crime and theft. There are only two ways to cross over the border legally and due to our location at the time in La Fortuna Costa Rica, it only made sense to try our luck in moving forward via this more challenging route as opposed to hours of backtracking. So the plan was 2 buses that should technically clock 2 hours 45 minutes then a 45 minute riverboat to get us into San Carlos, Nicaragua where we catch the 2pm Ferry. We figured by catching the 6am bus to start our journey should leave us plenty of time to play with.
Our good intentions of sticking to the schedule was immediately thrown off when we realized all our food for the long day ahead which we carefully prepared the night before was locked in the communal kitchen! That only left us with one option: break in!!!
MIssion accomplished and loaded with fuel for our journey, we just managed to make it on time for the bus which happenedto leave 10 minutes early. The trick about travelling on these local buses is finding the right place for our backpacks so that we can keep our eye on it the whole time. Not any easy task when the bus is full. Our belongings are a major target for theft considering that most travellers carry with them different forms of electronics which can easily be sold on the street.
We catch the second bus which will take us to Los Chiles where we check in with the passport office and buy our ticket for the riverboat to cross the official border. This bus however takes an extra hour for different reasons, one being the couple of spot checks along the way, yet we are still on schedule as far as our calculations go. Next step, get our passports stamped. Now we are beginning to understand first hand the severity of the problem with Nicaraguans trying to cross over to Costa Rica illegaly to find work. Mostly, it is farming jobs that they pick up under the table for a few months which serves both nations: cheap labour for the farmers and food on the table for the worker. It is very sad to witness what is the meaning of survival for these people which is enough to humble any soul. Reality for them is pure poverty and sometimes desperate measures to make ends meet. On this particular day however, what this means for us is chaos at the passport office which is further complicated by the fact that nobody speaks any English to help us figure out what resembles some sort of a form of a line-up for something important?! Just when we were feeling at the point of peak frustration along come our saviour to swoop us into safety with one amazingly powerful and much appreciated tool: language! He spoke perfectly good English and also happened to be the captain of our boat!
So things are looking up for us as we purchase our tickets for the boat with what we think is PLENTY of time to get us over and safely onto the Ferry to Grenada. One thing to know about travelling through Central America is to not count on any mode of transportation being on time or according to schedule because chances are, there is no schedule to begin with. So it was almost comical when we found out that our efforts to be on time are totally in vain because this boat only leaves when it is full!!! That could mean anything at this point and slowly as time passes it becomes more apparent that we were out of luck. After 3 hours of waiting until finally the last broomstick and garbage bag full of stuff was loaded on board, we felt fortunate to even have a seat as our last hope of catching the Ferry completely diminished. There was nothing we can do but it really didn't matter as perspective took over and what seemed like a problem to us actually disintegrated along with any other expectation I may have had about things going 'as planned'. These people were being rejected from another country, denied the opportunity to work; they were being turned around to break the news to their families that once again it was beans and bread for dinner. Our situation, not so bad.
As we arrive in San Carlos, it is confirmed that the Ferry has left.....it is just after 3pm after checking in with customs and we are stuck. There is an undeniable thickness in the air and I am suddenly aware of what it is that I am feeling, as if I am stepping into the boxing ring only to find out that my opponent is Southpaw and I have no game plan! Similar to that nightmare where I am trying to scream and nothing is coming out! We don't know much about this town except we MUST get out and fast before dark sets in. It takes 45 minutes of questioning, calculating, probing and almost pleading to find out we have only 2 options and we have about 2 minutes to make up our minds. 1) Undo all the travelling we had done that day to attempt at an even longer day of travel to the other border tomorrow, or 2) take a 1hr $40 cab ride to the next port town with hope to catch the Ferry at 5:30....it is now just after 4pm so this requires absolute trust that what these strangers are telling us are with good intentions.
We choose option # 2 and and are immediately whisked off into the unknown territory of bad driving on what is a really bad road when suddenly the back hatch flings open to forcefully spit out one of the two backpacks which were so hastily stuffed in amonst all the urgency. In unison, the three of us were screaming, "WHOOOOOOOAAAAAAA" until the cab driver finally realized what happened. We all just had to laugh, and really hard especially as Danny chased down the tumbling mass of what was still to be his belongings for the next month of travel.
We arrived safe after a very wild ride and abrupt introduction to the next country of choice mapped out on our itinery. Final and longest leg of travel: 12 hour Ferry ride across the second largest freshwater sea in the Americas at 177km long and 58km wide. Piece of cake:-)
Our good intentions of sticking to the schedule was immediately thrown off when we realized all our food for the long day ahead which we carefully prepared the night before was locked in the communal kitchen! That only left us with one option: break in!!!
MIssion accomplished and loaded with fuel for our journey, we just managed to make it on time for the bus which happenedto leave 10 minutes early. The trick about travelling on these local buses is finding the right place for our backpacks so that we can keep our eye on it the whole time. Not any easy task when the bus is full. Our belongings are a major target for theft considering that most travellers carry with them different forms of electronics which can easily be sold on the street.
We catch the second bus which will take us to Los Chiles where we check in with the passport office and buy our ticket for the riverboat to cross the official border. This bus however takes an extra hour for different reasons, one being the couple of spot checks along the way, yet we are still on schedule as far as our calculations go. Next step, get our passports stamped. Now we are beginning to understand first hand the severity of the problem with Nicaraguans trying to cross over to Costa Rica illegaly to find work. Mostly, it is farming jobs that they pick up under the table for a few months which serves both nations: cheap labour for the farmers and food on the table for the worker. It is very sad to witness what is the meaning of survival for these people which is enough to humble any soul. Reality for them is pure poverty and sometimes desperate measures to make ends meet. On this particular day however, what this means for us is chaos at the passport office which is further complicated by the fact that nobody speaks any English to help us figure out what resembles some sort of a form of a line-up for something important?! Just when we were feeling at the point of peak frustration along come our saviour to swoop us into safety with one amazingly powerful and much appreciated tool: language! He spoke perfectly good English and also happened to be the captain of our boat!
So things are looking up for us as we purchase our tickets for the boat with what we think is PLENTY of time to get us over and safely onto the Ferry to Grenada. One thing to know about travelling through Central America is to not count on any mode of transportation being on time or according to schedule because chances are, there is no schedule to begin with. So it was almost comical when we found out that our efforts to be on time are totally in vain because this boat only leaves when it is full!!! That could mean anything at this point and slowly as time passes it becomes more apparent that we were out of luck. After 3 hours of waiting until finally the last broomstick and garbage bag full of stuff was loaded on board, we felt fortunate to even have a seat as our last hope of catching the Ferry completely diminished. There was nothing we can do but it really didn't matter as perspective took over and what seemed like a problem to us actually disintegrated along with any other expectation I may have had about things going 'as planned'. These people were being rejected from another country, denied the opportunity to work; they were being turned around to break the news to their families that once again it was beans and bread for dinner. Our situation, not so bad.
As we arrive in San Carlos, it is confirmed that the Ferry has left.....it is just after 3pm after checking in with customs and we are stuck. There is an undeniable thickness in the air and I am suddenly aware of what it is that I am feeling, as if I am stepping into the boxing ring only to find out that my opponent is Southpaw and I have no game plan! Similar to that nightmare where I am trying to scream and nothing is coming out! We don't know much about this town except we MUST get out and fast before dark sets in. It takes 45 minutes of questioning, calculating, probing and almost pleading to find out we have only 2 options and we have about 2 minutes to make up our minds. 1) Undo all the travelling we had done that day to attempt at an even longer day of travel to the other border tomorrow, or 2) take a 1hr $40 cab ride to the next port town with hope to catch the Ferry at 5:30....it is now just after 4pm so this requires absolute trust that what these strangers are telling us are with good intentions.
We choose option # 2 and and are immediately whisked off into the unknown territory of bad driving on what is a really bad road when suddenly the back hatch flings open to forcefully spit out one of the two backpacks which were so hastily stuffed in amonst all the urgency. In unison, the three of us were screaming, "WHOOOOOOOAAAAAAA" until the cab driver finally realized what happened. We all just had to laugh, and really hard especially as Danny chased down the tumbling mass of what was still to be his belongings for the next month of travel.
We arrived safe after a very wild ride and abrupt introduction to the next country of choice mapped out on our itinery. Final and longest leg of travel: 12 hour Ferry ride across the second largest freshwater sea in the Americas at 177km long and 58km wide. Piece of cake:-)
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