When Blogging is Work

So, I've been feeling pretty lazy about blogging lately; not sure why. Maybe my four days in Miraflor followed by a divine massage in Esteli sapped my last shred of ambition as far as writing is concerned, or maybe because it's the halfway point in my trip and I'm doubting my willingness to keep this up for another 8 weeks. Whatever the reason, I've thought about the blog several times over the past few days but really haven't felt inspired to write. Still, for the sake of preserving my memories of the past ten days or so, I figured I'd do well to at least try and write a bit about what I've been up to.

First off, Miraflor: it was a very relaxing few days, I met some very kind people and gained a much deeper appreciation for the hard work that the campesino life entails. My first day, I hopped a chicken bus at 6 a.m. and was psyched to meet a fellow traveler, a French woman named Stephanie, on the bus. We chatted during the 2+ hour slog up through the hills, choking on exhaust fumes all the way. Since Stephanie wasn't familiar with the different communities within Miraflor and had just kind of hopped a bus in that general direction, she decided to hang with me and we spent the day hiking the trails around Posada la Sonada, the finca where I spent my first two nights, including walking through lots of coffee bushes, checking out an amazing, ancient tree with a hollow trunk that could be climbed and visiting a 'laguna' that turned out to be more of a swamp and where our feet were tortured by biting ants. We also enjoyed some terrific meals prepared by the matron of the house, Dona Corina, and the best coffee I've yet to enjoy in Nica.

Speaking of which, I decided to buy a pound of coffee to take with me and was glad I did, as it meant that I got to see the coffee roasting process in action. First, the dried beans were put into a big wooden bucket where they were pounded with a giant wooden pestle in order to remove the dried husks, which were then removed from the bucket by scooping up the beans in a bowl and pouring them back in from high above so that the beans would drop into the bucket while the lighter skins would be carried off by the breeze. I could kick myself for not taking photos because the description can't really do justice to the process, but rest assured that it was impressive. Once the skins were removed, the beans were placed in a  big pot over an open flame and were patiently stirred by the Dona for nearly two hours to evenly roast them. I imagine that most places have some kind of machine for carrying out these processes on a large scale, but here I was both impressed and dismayed at the amount of effort that went into processing my one pound of beans. The coffee smells incredible, and as I have no option but to carry it around in my backpack, I've been tempted many times by the aroma of what smells like freshly brewing coffee, only to discover that it's actually just the smell of the beans wafting out of my open backpack. Ah well, I'm sure I'll get to enjoy them at some point.

Anywho, I enjoyed a couple of relaxing days at La Posada, hiking during the day and chilling on the porch with my book at night until I was interrupted by the sunset. My accommodation consisted of a small cabin with a bed, mosquito net, small table and a couple of candles (since the cabins had no electricity). The family at the Posada were very gracious but seemed fairly preoccupied with chores during my time there, so I was excited when on my second night, a Canadian guy and his Nica tour guide, Anry, arrived to spend the night. I was cracking up at Anry's many stories of encounters with coral snakes, scorpions, etc. (which were funnier than you might think) and he gave me some good suggestions for the rest of my time here. Also, it POURED rain for hours the night they came, so I was doubly glad for the company.

My little cabina at La Posada Sonada

The next morning, I traveled by horseback with a guide to my next destination of El Coyolito, a community in the lower zone of Miraflor. I was afraid that the roads would be horrendous after all the rain, but my horse managed to navigate pretty well and it was a glorious morning for a ride. My guide, Darby, is a 21-year old who has lived his whole life in Miraflor, and I enjoyed hearing his perspective on the community, the tourism industry and ideas for promoting Miraflor as a destination while preserving the lifestyle and ecosystem of the place.

My second homestay family was lovely and I had a much higher level of interaction with them since I was actually staying in their house. The father of the house, Nelson, was very chatty, and I had fun learning card games from him and his 8-year old son, Feliz Eduard, who turned out to be a bit of a card shark. On a more serious note, Nelson also told me some truly awful stories about the bloodshed that occurred in this area of the country during the Revolution and again during the Contra war and how just about every family had at least one member murdered in some brutal way, often simply because they were suspected of aiding the opposition. Nelson's wife, Lorena, was a bit more shy but equally gracious and an excellent cook. I spent a rather uneventful but relaxing couple of days there, taking long walks along the dirt roads and getting lost multiple times in my quest to reach a 'cascada', which turned out to be a fairly tiny waterfall with wire fencing running across the middle of it. I did get a good chuckle when, walking along the road one day, a farmer who looked to be in his sixties gave me a big smile and pronounced me 'guapisima', as i had just been thinking how un-guapisima I must look drenched from head to toe in sweat, face bright red and hair frizzing out in all directions. I almost jumped the fence to give him a hug.

Lemons on steroids

After Miraflor, I returned to spend another day and evening in Esteli, which included the above-mentioned fantastic massage ($5 for an hour), a visit to the Galeria de Heroes y Martires, a touching museum dedicated to fallen soldiers of the Revolution that is maintained by the mothers of said soldiers, and a visit to a cigar factory where I got to see firsthand the process of making cigars by hand. It was seriously impressive! I'm not sure how a cigar factory usually operates, but at this place they do everything from cutting, painting and drying the cigar boxes; drying the tobacco and prepping the leaves for rolling; and finally, rolling, molding, trimming and storing the cigars. At the end, I felt as though I should pick up the habit of smoking Nicaraguan cigars in order to support a business that employs such a large workforce and in appreciation of the craftsmanship that goes into the creation of the cigars. Unfortunately, doing so might make those long slogs up the side of a mountain even more strenuous.

From Esteli, I hopped a bus to Matagalpa, a small city due east of Esteli known for being a hub of coffee production and exportation. I found Matagalpa to be a pleasant city, safe and very easy to navigate, with some good restaurants and coffee shops. However, the real fun in Matagalpa began when I signed up for a two-hour city tour through the hostel where I was staying. Turns out that it's a new operation and I was the very first customer! My tour guides, two guys in their early 20s, were really nice and fun and seemed really enthused about giving their first tour, taking pictures all along the way to post on their Facebook page. Hence, my face may become somewhat famous in these parts...

Me and my guides, Minor and Memo

The guys also invited me to a concert that night - a well-known reggae singer from the Atlantic coast of Nica - which turned out to be a  fantastic time. Music was terrific, lots of people singing and dancing, and afterwards we went to a local cafe/bar with a big group of people where I had a blast chatting with a bunch of young Nicas (and one woman from Germany). For better or for worse, it was the first time in Nica that I had to slink into my dorm room in the wee hours so as not to wake my bunkmates. I must say, it felt great!

The last two days have been spent away from the city, at an American-owned coffee plantation east of town known as Finca Esperanza Verde. I found the place through my Lonely Planet guide and was intrigued to check it out based on the many accolades it has received for being a model of sustainable ecotourism and for its reputation for having 'sensational' coffee. While not exactly an authentic Nica experience, I loved my two days there! The setting was absolutely gorgeous, the coffee more or less lived up to the hype, the food was excellent and I got to see howler monkeys, frogs and an amazing array of birds.

Also, I met a group of American students there who were on a weeklong break from a study abroad program in El Salvador and had a great time chatting with them, learning about life in El Salvador and listening to them talk about issues of social justice with which they are being confronted during this semester. I was impressed by their introspectiveness at a relatively young age and was also reminded of my time in Cameroon back in 1998. (As a cultural reference point, none of them had heard of 'Jem', Barbie's rockstar counterpart from the 80s - guess she didn't have the staying power of Barbie and her crew).

After a pleasant hour-long walk from the finca to the tiny town of Yucul this morning, followed by an hour-long chicken bus ride down the mountain, I find myself back in Matagalpa for one more night. I may get to do a bit of camping tonight with my guide friends, and the plan for tomorrow is to head to Granada for a couple of days before returning to La Concha for a brief stay. I received a message from one of the interns at La Mariposa today letting me know that there is a new student staying with my host family, and I can't deny that I am very sad that I won't be able to stay in the house when I pass back through town. Still, I am excited to visit with my family and friends for a bit before heading out on the road again. Also, it looks like I will have a travel buddy for Isla de Ometepe and San Juan del Sur - a guy from D.C. named Tom who I met at La Mariposa and who is just finishing up his studies there. I am excited to have a partner in crime with whom I can travel, at least for a brief stint, before continuing on to Costa Rica.

Love to everyone back in the States, especially to my dad whose birthday is tomorrow!

Taking to the Hills

Well, I finally escaped the intense heat of Leon and now find myself in the much more temperate surroundings of Esteli. On Wednesday evening, I met up with a friend, Claire, in Leon, and we went out for a fabulous dinner followed by some great live music at a bar called the Olle Quemada. The place was packed and reminded me of a treasured bar find, where you can relax with friends, listen to good music, dance if you feel like dancing, etc. Even though I couldn't understand all of the words/lyrics in Spanish, the vibe was familiar! They even threw in a couple of tunes by Bob Marley and Guns 'n Roses so that the English-speaking crowd could sing along. It was a nice way to say goodbye to the city that I will always remember as a giant sweat lodge.

Thursday morning, I hopped on the chicken bus to head for the shores of the Pacific, to a beach community called Las Penitas. As I climbed on the bus carrying my heavy backpack and trying to figure out how to navigate my way through the already crowded aisles of the bus, a Nica woman who looked to be in her fifties grabbed the pack from me, turned and marched halfway down the aisle, where she hoisted it onto one of the overhead racks and promptly returned to her space at the front of the bus. At first too stunned to do anything, I had then followed her down the aisle attempting to help her shoulder the weight of the pack, but it was pretty clear she had it under control. I slunk into my seat, hoping it didn't appear as though I had foisted the task onto this poor, unsuspecting woman.

After a pleasant, 45-minute ride, I arrived at my destination and got checked in at a lovely hotel at the end of the beach that had been recommended to me by a couple of people. The man at the desk showed me a lovely single room for $27 a night, but after a quick investigation, I decided to take a bed in the otherwise empty dorm room for $7 a night, where I had my pick of 4 different beds and access to my own bathroom. I spent the afternoon strolling the beach and had a late lunch of beans, fried tortilla and tostones con queso, thereby spoiling my appetite for the grilled fish dinner that I had been dreaming about earlier. Ah, well. The hotel was devoid of guests except for an older Swiss man and a young French family, but I had a lovely time chatting in Spanish with a woman working at the hotel before heading to bed early.

The next morning, I took another long walk on the beach and spent a good long while sitting on the rocks and watching the spray as the waves came in, one of my favorite pasttimes from Maine. Actually, I was surprised at how much this beach reminded me of Maine, save for the thatch-roof huts, the young Nica surfers and the horses running on the beach. Still, it was a nice reminder of home. Oh, and I should mention the tide - it was crazy! Walking along the water's edge, an occasional wave would come up that would soak me up to my waist, and I would plant my feet firmly in the sand so as not to be pulled out to sea. I can see why the guidebook suggested thinking twice before swimming in these waters...After my walk, I had a delicious shrimp ceviche while watching the fishermen bring in the day's catch and then caught the bus back to Leon.

At the bus terminal, I bought my ticket for Esteli (about $3 for a 2.5-hour ride) and boarded a bus that could have doubled for one of the more plush coaches in the U.S., save for the lack of air conditioning. Still, once we got going, the ride was very pleasant, I took in lots of lush, green scenery and was delighted to feel a slight cooling of the air with each passing mile. Once in Esteli, I grabbed a taxi to my hostel, threw down my bag and walked to the cafe across the street to chow down on some yummy fajitas washed down with a cold Victoria. The cuisine, while definitely not traditional Nica fare, was damn good!

Today I've been exploring Esteli on foot and making preparations to get into the wilderness for a few days. I started my day at La Casita, a lovely little cafe on the outskirts of town where I had a cafe con leche along with some homemade yogurt and muesli. The setting was terrific - a small patio containing a few tables carved from logs with a small stream running alongside, but what really got me was a leaflet explaining how part of the mission of the place was to do its part towards reducing the global footprint, by using locally sourced products, not using plastic goods or bags, etc. It noted how Hurricane Mitch was an all too powerful reminder of what happens when nature is thrown off balance, and how they hoped that it would not take another disaster of that magnitude to remind people of the need to be conscientious in how they treat the Earth. (Some of you might remember that Hurricane Mitch ravaged Central America in 1998, causing extensive damage in several countries. In Nicaragua, torrential rains triggered massive mudslides on the side of Volcan Casita, causing the deaths of an estimated 3,000 people living at the base of the volcano, many of whom were buried by the mud and their bodies never recovered. The site where the village once stood is now considered a mass burial ground).

After breakfast, I took the nice, long walk back into town, strolled through the market and the central park, and was disappointed to discover that the Galeria de Heroes y Martires, a museum paying tribute to fallen heroes of the Revolution, was closed. (Esteli and other Northern communities saw heavy fighting between the Sandinistas and the Guardia Nacional of Somoza.) Hopefully, I can check out the museum and some other sights when I come back through Esteli since, as of tomorrow, I will be dropping off the grid for a while!

Just north of Esteli is a protected area known as Miraflor, a reportedly beautiful area consisting of three temperature zones and approximately 44 communities where small-scale farmers grow coffee and other crops, and where a handful of families open their homes to travelers who want to experience a taste of rural life in Nicaragua. I've opted to spend 2 nights each at 2 different homestays, one in the northern reaches of the reserve with its cloud forest, and one in the drier southern region known for its many waterfalls. I'm told that, in addition to experiencing some terrific hiking and breathtaking views, I may get a chance to pitch in with making tortillas, toasting coffee and milking cows (fingers crossed). Also, there's no electricity out there, so I'm guessing bedtime comes fairly early...

I did get around to posting a heap of photos on Facebook, so feel free to check them out if you haven't already. For those of you not on Facebook, you should be able to access the pics using this link: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=240904&id=631288604&l=af006ed83a

OK, hope everyone is having a great weekend. I'm heading out to grab some vegetarian nacatamales (Nica's version of a tamale, although larger) before packing up for the big trip. Should be back online in  a few days. Adios!

Mucho calor in Leon

It is just about high noon and I am seated directly in front of a fan in the lobby of my hostel, hiding out from the intense heat of the streets of Leon. I had approached Leon with some trepidation due to its reputation for being always hot and steamy. Even Nicaraguans, who are known to be able to withstand some heat and humidity and regularly wear jeans when the temp is 90 degrees or so, get a little antsy at the mention of Leon. Usually, they will immediately take on a slightly pained expression and begin shaking their heads and possibly even using the famous Nicaraguan hand-snapping technique used to give particular emphasis to something, while saying something like, "En Leon, hay mucho, MUCHO calor...siempre." So I can't say I wasn't warned.


Still, I find myself a bit surprised by the intensity of the heat and humidity here. This morning, I paid a visit to the Museo de Tradiciones y Leyendas (Traditions & Legends) at about 8:30, thinking I would beat the midday heat, and still found myself dripping sweat as the guide opened the door for me and collected my 20 cordoba. When I asked why no one else was there (since the museum reportedly opened at 8), he said it was likely due to the 'calor'. I resisted the urge to ask how, if the calor was prone to keeping people away, the museum ever did any business, since as far as I can tell, it never lets up here. But anyway...

Despite the heat, I like Leon and can understand how so many extranjeros come to visit and end up staying a while. The city is a little bit gritty, full of activity, easy to navigate and is accessible to the Maribios chain of volcanoes as well as some reportedly lovely beaches. I've enjoyed strolling the city and checking out a few cathedrals, museums, the mercado, etc., but I will be ready to go tomorrow! Speaking of which, I think I'm going to head to Las Penitas - a beach about 40 minutes out of Leon - and take a day and night to stroll the beach, read some trashy novel in a hammock and enjoy some grilled fish and cold beer while gazing at the ocean. I may even get to see some sea turtles laying eggs at night, which would be icing on the cake.

I spent the last couple of days hiking Volcan Telica, one of the active volcanoes in the Maribios chain. I signed up with a group called Quetzaltrekkers, despite my misgivings about being able to haul a giant pack up the side of a volcano (since I haven't done any serious hiking in ages). Monday morning, I got a 5:15 wake-up call at the hostel and headed to the office to have breakfast, meet the group, pack up and head out. We got to the trailhead by first taking one of the camioneta buses in Leon, which involves climbing onto the back of a covered truck and (of course) smushing up against a bunch of other people including, in this case, a woman transporting a large bucket of giant live crabs to sell on the street. After that, we switched to one of the large 'chicken' buses common throughout Central America. This consists of an old school bus, usually painted in festive colors, which is used to transport people from point A to point B. We handed our packs to the attendant to haul on top of the bus and took a 30-minute ride to the trailhead.

The hike in was actually less strenuous than I imagined, as a lot of it involved simply getting to the base of the volcano, meaning that it was a relatively flat walk. There were some lovely views along the way and we crossed paths with several local people riding on horseback before stopping to enjoy some veggie burritos under a huge tree. The latter half of the hike was definitely more strenuous and the last stretch totally kicked my butt, but it felt great to reach the crater and pitch our tents in the shadow of the steaming volcano. After some r&r, we hiked to the lip of the volcano and looked into the crater, which smelled like sulfur and sounded like a roaring ocean. We returned to the crater after sunset and were able to actually see glowing seams of lava inside the crater, which was pretty awesome. We even made some faux s'mores after dinner using some chocolate- coated cookies from the super in Leon, which was an unexpected treat. Here is a shot of a very sweaty me at the edge of the steaming crater:

In the morning, we rose at about a quarter to 5 to hike up again and try to catch the sunrise over the hills. Unfortunately, the cloudy sky kept us from seeing a real sunrise, but it was still lovely to be sitting up so high and enjoying the cool calm of the morning. And, we did get a nice view of the sun's outline behind the clouds once it was up. After breakfast, we packed up and hiked down the mountain, which was relatively pain-free except for the blisters on my feet. We made a final stop at some bubbling mud pools in the little town of San Jacinto, which were reminiscent of the paint pots in Yellowstone but made me a little nervous since the pools were loosely cordoned off with some yellow caution tape and I could feel heat rising and a low rumbling from the ground underneath me. I took a quick look before making a beeline to more stable ground.

I wish I could say that I was charmed by San Jacinto, but what I will remember of the place is the children running up to us repeating the phrase, "Cookie for me?". The place is tiny and probably doesn't see a ton of tourists beyond the backpacker groups that pass through on the way back to Leon, so I can only assume that some group or other has handed over leftover treats in the past, along with the explanation that they are cookies. It caught me off guard, though, especially since it's the first place in Nica where I've encountered any of this type of behavior. At any rate, we grabbed lunch at a local comedor before boarding the chicken bus back to town.

Later in the evening, after getting spiffed up a bit, I met up with the rest of the group for drinks at a local bar. I had a good time, but the place is definitely a tourist favorite, and it was a little strange to be surrounded by so many extranjeros, including a group doing shots of cheap tequila at the next table. Hard to imagine that happening back in lil' old San Juan...

Anyway, I realize I'm working in reverse here chronologically, but such is the flow of my brain at this point. This past weekend was when I said goodbye to all of the folks in San Juan, which was sad. At least I have the comfort of knowing that I plan to pass back through in another week or so, but it was hard to say goodbye to the teachers and Mariposa staff that have become so familiar to me over the past six weeks. Saturday night, I went out with a group of students and one of my teachers for beers in San Juan, which was a nice, low-key send-off. Sunday morning I said goodbye to my family, which was particularly hard since I've grown quite fond of them and will miss being a part of their family. Here is a photo of me and the infamous Bergman, with a couple of farewell sentences in the background which use the subjunctive verb tense. A teacher until the end, that one!

Ok, I'm afraid I need to go tend to a stinky pile of laundry that, unfortunately, won't do itself. Next post will likely be from the mountainous Northern territory, where I hope to have ample opportunities to use the fleece that I brought from the States and which has up until now mostly been gathering dust. Adios for now!

Moving On

I'm sitting on the patio at La Mariposa enjoying some unusually dry weather for October. Despite warnings about torrential downpours and heavy winds, this month has commenced in a much gentler fashion, with sunny yet cool days and light rain in the evenings. While a continuation of this pattern bodes well for my intended travel north, it does NOT bode well in general for Nicaragua, as the dry season is quite long and water shortages are not uncommon at its peak.

I was mulling over the water situation while brushing my teeth this morning. At least in La Concha, most houses do not have running water in the way that those of us living in the US think of it. Many homes are linked up to the municipal water system; however, water usually flows only two or three times a week for a few hours, which is why most homes have a pile, or water tank, in which to store water during the off times. Folks leave the tap over the pile open so that once the water starts running, the pile is sure to fill up. After that, all water  - for drinking, bathing, washing dishes, etc. - is taken from the pile on an as-needed basis.

In the dry season, however, water from the municipality may be in short supply, and Paulette told me that she once went over a month without receiving water. In this case, the only options are locating another source (e.g. a well), if available, and hauling water to the house, or paying to have a truckload of water brought in, which costs about $250! Aside from the fact that this amount is well out of reach of a typical household here, it occurred to me how much more expensive that is than buying water in the States. And the level of water consumption here can't hold a candle to that of the US. Just another thing to be conscious of upon my return.

It's hard to believe that my time at La Mariposa is drawing to a close. I've decided to head to Leon on Sunday so that I can spend Saturday hanging out with my family before I leave. This week, I've been cramming to learn the various subjunctive verb tenses and soaking up my remaining time with family, friends and staff here. It will be hard to say goodbye, although I plan to swing back through here after my time up North so that I can see everyone again before I head east.

Last weekend, we made a day trip to Leon and visited some very interesting spots, including the immense cathedral (supposedly intended for construction in Lima, Peru until a crafty official switched the construction plans), an art museum with an excellent collection of paintings and sculptures by Central American artists, a museum paying homage to the memory of FSLN leaders slain in the 80s, and an indigenous barrio called Subtiava that dates from pre-Columbian times. I am looking forward to spending more time in Leon and possibly doing some hiking in the string of nearby volcanoes.

Last weekend was also marked by two celebrations in the house. First, on Friday night, we celebrated Yaser's 4th birthday with cake, cookies (yes, they turned out!) and my new favorite Nica dish, Arroz de Valencia, which reminded me a bit of paella with chicken and chorizo (which I picked out) rather than seafood. Yaser spent the day talking about how it was his cumpleanos and walking around with the small gift bag given to him by his parents, which contained a new pair of socks and some soap. Here are a couple of photos from the big event:

Saturday night, upon returning from Leon, I was invited to sip some rum with Mirelde, a cousin of the family visiting from Managua. I guess that opened the floodgates, because it was decided that we would then drink some beer in honor of my last full weekend in town, and everyone joined in the fun. We had a blast watching old music videos from the 80s, which they kept asking me to translate, and I was feeling very thankful (ironically) that the songs were by Brian Adams, Chicago, Queen, etc. in that the sentiment of the songs was fairly easy to convey in my stilted Spanish. Imagine if they had put on Rage Against the Machine or Tori Amos! Later in the evening, everyone got up to dance to the immensely popular tunes from the Caribbean coast of Nica. Not surprisingly, I was thoroughly outdanced by my Nica hosts! I couldn't have asked for a better sendoff.

Unfortunately, we got some sad news this morning about Lucy, the horse. She apparently suffered a heart attack and died, no doubt related to her injury of several weeks ago. It's incredibly sad for everyone here, especially since it had seemed that she had survived the worst, although perhaps she was suffering more than anyone knew.

OK, kids, that's all the news from here. Hope those of you in New England are enjoying the onset of Fall - my favorite season - and if anyone wants to send me photos of leaves changing color, feel free! And I'll leave you with a couple of photos from last Sunday's baseball game in the backyard.