De Eso Estoy Hablando

I landed back in San Jose and waited patiently (in the air conditioned Airport inn) for my mom and her sister, Diane, to show up. In a whirl of passport holders and travelers cheques (I’m certain no one uses these anymore), they arrived, and the next day we set off on the long and stomach churning journey to the south east coast near Puerto Viejo.

Since my mom seldom leaves the west coast, we had to make sure this vacation was awesome. So she did some research and found what seems to be the coolest place on the planet. Our abode is a quaint little rental house built with salvaged jungle wood IN A TREE. That’s right, it’s the most epic tree house that has ever been built, and ours for an entire week. There’s a toilet IN THE TREE. The living room has TREES GROWING UP AND THROUGH IT. It’s just freaking awesome. You can hear all kinds of weird things at night, and you wake up to the rain and growling howler monkeys as the sun comes up. It’s breezy and cozy, and is great for feeling ‘at one’ with nature n junk.

We walked down the road our first night in town and had a delicious dinner (not rice and beans, I might add), then braved the potholed street home in pitch black. We arrived back at the tree to discover about 800,000 ants invading our space. Now, I’m used to these things. When I lived in Samoa they came to be a nutritious and unavoidable part of our daily diets, claiming every bit of food we forgot to double seal in a series of ziplock bag defenses. No big deal. So I leapt over the line of ants and sat down on the toilet. I look to my right. I think, “Oh! A scorpion, how cool! I’ve never seen one of these things in real life.” A millisecond later, “Oh SHIT! A scorpion!!! Inches from my face, ready to ATTACK!!!!” I just about peed all over myself as i leaped off the pot and into the stream of ants that were making their way through the middle of the bathroom. FUCK. These are not normal ants, I soon realize. These are a special kind of ant called Army Ants that science fiction writers have come to love due to their aggressive and painful nature (remember in all those old sci-fi movies where someone falls in the jungle, gets swarmed by ants, and is left but a shiny white skeleton seconds later as the heard moves on?) . I start jumping and screaming, cursing this treehouse and everything inside it.

I find my mom and aunt outside doing the same. In retrospect, it’s hilarious. Imagine 3 grown women in the middle of the jungle, trying to simultaneously avoid and murder these tiny creatures using everything imaginable: dishes, shoes, water, Mudd. In our panic, we didn’t stop to think for a second that maybe we should WALK AWAY FROM THE HOUSE. We called the master of the house, who quickly guessed that this was our first time sleeping in the Jungle. We nodded. He explained that these ants are actually really great, save the whole biting business, because they spend 2 hours cleaning every square centimeter of the place of crumbs, eggs, and other bugs, then go on their way. Alas, we haven’t seen them since.

It’s been an awesome week here aside from that!

After the exhausting/hilarious hike, Jay, J, and I left the island and headed to San Juan Del Sur (round two) for some relaxin’. Did we do that? Not really. We found Renze and Omar again, as well as every single other person I’d met in the past two weeks, and had a proper Birthday Fiesta. We played a shit ton of Yaniv (which, thankfully, I was improving at), ate a glorious meal of fresh sea food with our friend Yuval, watched someone accidentally strand their sailboat on the sandy shore, attempted to sneak an entire handle of Fleur de Cana rum into a discotheque (and failed), watched jessie frantically avoid the newfound attention from the locals, and then had an adventure involving going to every single place in the entire town for inspection. We arrived home in the wee-hours, and Jessie and I probably woke up the entire hostel with the most ultimate giggle-fest in history (and if you know us, we giggle a lot.)

Really, the best [birth]day ever.

The next day we spent most of the daylight avoiding the sun, for not only was Jessie’s sunburn from day one now bubbling and getting gross, her feet had swollen to the size of watermelons and were not only painful, but pretty embarrassing (her words, not mine). After a long time of sitting/drinking organic costa rican coffee/playing (once again) a crap ton of cards, we came upon a man who knew of a place with an awesome pool. We followed willingly, and sure enough were presented not one, not two, but three glorious swimming pools for us to enjoy, fo free. Renze and I practiced Dirty Dancing lifts in the pool for entertainment, and I’m pretty sure our performance paid for our visit (I’m glad that the phrase “nobody puts Baby in the corner” crosses all kinds of borders).

Once the sun set, we took our tribe of travelers into the streets, and got stranded just meters (metric!) away from our hostel due to SERIOUS RAINFALL. We fiesta’d our hearts out, and I learned how ‘awesome’ Dutch people are at dancing (I’m so glad they understand sarcasm). We ended the night with street hamberguesas and beatbox battles, and I will say, I think I’ve met my match.

We headed back to Granada. A girl got robbed, we met a hippie, and had some hilarious ‘Nachos’ with a Canadian, who I think we made laugh more than he ever had in his entire life. Then I said goodbye to J-bomb and her awesome pink hat (RIP hat– thanks greg…), and also said adios to what has become one of my favorite countries ever… got on a plane and headed back to Costa Rica.

For my 24th birthday, it was prescribed that I throw a rock at a volcano. Yes, this may seem weird, but lately I’ve just been really into throwing rocks at things. There’s something very substantial about seeing it fly (though not very far, because I suck at throwing). So we gathered Omar the Uncertain (this German dude was completely untrusting about us knowing anything) and Renze the Hilarious (Dutch man who later joined our impromptu ac cappella group and earned a space in our hearts forever) and took them on the bus to the ferry that would take us to an island made up of not one but TWO volcanoes. wowie.

The first night we stayed in the port town Moyogalpa, or “Mosquitos Nest” ask the locals know it, and experienced what seemed to be a tri-daily event of All the Power on the Island Going Out. Did that stop us? No. We played an epic game of my new Israeli favorite card game, Yaniv. Why do I love it? Because it’s the only game I don’t kick everyone’s ass in (what can I say, I’m usually pretty good at games). Since the power was out, we played by romantic candlelight… sipping rum and being simply amazed at how much rain this island consumed. After many-a-hour, with the lack of power still keeping us secluded in darkness, the game finally ended, and me and Young Renze had to endure the punishment of loss: Streaking.

Que Libre! I’d never done anything that felt so freeing. Nudeness racing on a rain-covered Nicaraguan cobble-stoned street, with only the moon to make us blush (double entendre!). And who better to do it with than with someone who I assume does it all the time in Amsterdam (I stereotype the Netherlands as a place where people are continuously smiling, biking, high, and nude… a lot like Eugene, too!) and isn’t that bad to look at, either.

The next day we parted ways with our European boys and headed for Santa Domingo, a little lakefront town closer to the base of the Volcano we planned on conquering. We took the bus, which dropped us off in front of a sign that seemed to say “Santa Domingo, this way.” The ambiguity of space and time here never fails, but we decided to follow the sign. Jessie struggled with her sunburnt shoulders, and after walking in the heat of the morning for what seemed an eternity, I was pretty sure she was going to start throwing things out of the bag on the side of the road to lighten her load. Fortunately, a Truck of Glory pulled up in front of us and took us what would become the 4 more miles to the town we assumed we’d walk to.

Jessie made me go horseback riding again. She was in heaven, I was in hell.

We ran into a friend we’d met in Granada days earlier, Jay (this seems to happen a lot in Nicaragua), and the three of us shared a room in a fancy hotel (for like, $5 a person. I love Nicaragua). We somehow convinced Jay to come hike the Volcano Masaya with us, and the next morning we were off to get extreme!

Now, I love hiking. I love backpacking and the outdoors and being out of breath and ‘feeling the burn.’ I guess I never really considered the fact that most normal people wouldn’t put this strenuous activity at the top of their fun list. So after the first hour of sweat covered hiking with our guide, I was astounded that Jay wasn’t having the best time. Jessie assures me she was having fun 90% of the time, and I love her for keeping the positive vibe no matter how sure she was her legs were about to fall off, since it was my birthday and all. I never would have believed it, but WE MADE IT! All of us! To the very top, and then INSIDE of the volcano! And it only took us 5 hours!!!!! There was a beautiful mud pit that, during the rainy season, is a refreshing lagoon tired hikers can cool off in. Unfortunately for us, it was a tease, but served as an AMAZING place for rock throwing! After resting for as long as possible (and allowing our guide to smoke some pot… this seems to happen a lot in Nicaragua) we headed down. This only took 3 hours, probably because by the end we were running from the rain, lightning, and quickly approaching darkness. But we did it. It was wonderful.

There was video, and as soon as i figure out how to upload it via super slow internet, it will be yours.

We got back to our hotel and Jay treated us to LOBSTER DINNER, which for $13 was seriously the best thing that could ever be purchased. We compared bodyaches, and the three of us were asleep by 8:30. Magnificent.

Just when I think things couldn’t get any better, in comes JESSIE!! Due to dangerous Managuan taxi drivers at night, I took a cab into the city to collect her. The ride there was another great way to practice my Spanish, inquiring to my driver about the complexities of the FSLN and his stance on the somewhat recent Nicaraguan Civil War.

I get Jessie, and seemingly within minutes she is sunburnt beyond recognition (ok, so maybe it took her an afternoon of kayaking sin sunscreen…but by her first full day she was hobbling in misery at her unfortunate decision.) After attempting to bleach my hair some kind of normal color (with a $1 hair dying kit!) and watching some hilarious karaoke, we headed out of Granada to ‘experience some shit.’

She did a great recap of her trip, which you can read at:

Hand Hugs

Dave, Matt, Vas, Rich, and I headed from Granada down to San Juan Del Sur, supposed capital of awesome Nicaraguan surfing. What we found was a really, really hot hotel. I don’t understand, but for some reason Hotel Estrailla didn’t seem to ‘need’ fans. Or so they thought. Unfortunately, we were the ones who suffered through this ludicrous experiment, and the next day we were up and out of there headed for rooms mas fresco in Maderas, a neighboring town.

And boy, did we find it.

After staring at the beautiful surfer filled sea, we trekked down to the first staircase we saw– a giant journey to what appeared to be an abandoned mansion. We wandered around until some lady found us. I guess this magnificent place was usually rented to families or groups of rich party-havers, because the place was equipped with 4 AIR-CONDITIONED bedrooms, a yoga terrace overlooking the ocean and beach below, and a huge kitchen/dining room/dance floor– all of which were completely unoccupied. The caretaker considered our offer of $15 per person per night since no one of wealth was renting the place for the weekend, and within minutes we were all plopped down in our respected rooms, enjoying our suerte.

After catching our breath, we made the journey down the stairs and spent the next hour or two standing in the warm sea, getting totally pummeled by the waves. I don’t know why, but pretty much everyone loves doing this. Weirdos. We were with a somewhat local, a cool Alaskan named….zomgzz… KAIT… who had been going to a Spanish school in San Juan Del Sur. After we bonded over the awesomeness of our name, she informed the group that some of her classmates were having a bbq at their cool new house up in the hills, and that we were all invited! Whabam!

This amazing couple transported us, fed us, boozed us, and let us use their infinity pool overlooking the jungle… providing a simply wonderful retreat and what, yes, you guessed it, earned the title as Best Day Ever.

Spent an afternoon kayaking amongst the hundreds of islands off Granada on Lake Nicaragua made by the Volcano. We ended up with the best sunset ever. Miras!

After an exotic bus ride to a neighboring town (I explained in my very limited Spanish the intricate complexities of various offensive signs Americans do with their fingers), Steffan lead me to a town that apparently had a cool church. See below:

We are in Central America, and it is HOT. So after finding the church, we asked some local kids the best way to get to this place Steffan read about, a lagoon make by an IMPLODED VOLCANO. THAT YOU COULD SWIM IN!!!! Sold.

So we followed these two Nicaraguan boys down an old dirt road. They were armed with machetes and quitely talking in front of us. And after walking for about15 minutes, there was a brief moment when I was pretty sure we were going to get robbed and probably murdered. But alas, seconds later we were at the top of a very huge hill that was leading down to a gorgeous swimmin’ hole. We practically ran down, stopping only to look at the monkeys, collect mangoes, and wipe the amazingly thick sweat mustaches that grow continuously in the heat.

It took about 2 hours, but we finally made it. And not only did we find the waters edge, this edge just so happened to be an edge with a nice American lady residing on it, offering us free use of kayaks, inner tubes, and bird holding. We spent the next 6 hours being totally tranqilo… and I know I say this a lot, but it was just the best day ever.

So, I made it safe and sound to Nicaragua, and I’m in love. From what I’ve seen, this country is Costa Rica with a cultural charm. Yes, there are still many zipline outfits scattering the streets, but there are also people that aren’t tourists going about existing.

After a hot and stale night in what apparently is the best hostel in Managua (I guess that speaks worlds for the condition of the city), I grabbed the earliest bus I could out of there to Granada. The bus ride was warm and stinky, and like everywhere else in the world simply terrifying. Here in Nicaragua, not only do you have to look out for motor bikes and speeding cars, but you must mind the horse drawn carts that intermingle with the modern transport. It’s quite a challenge just crossing a back-alley street. I landed at the Oasis hostel, which is just that. Pool. Free Coffee. Fans. What more do you need? Why not fill it up with a bunch of hilarious travelers you can spend the next week with? Done.

Granada is busy and beautiful. Every building is painted some magical pastel color and though this place is supposedly dangerous, everyone I’ve met has  been perfectly wonderful. Walking back to the hostel one night, me and Dave were offered ‘protection’ from a 5-foot local kid for only $2 USD! Que bonito!

I’ve tried the local rum ($3 a bottle, can you beat it?!) and the local dancing, the local food and local water (don’t do this last one, enserio)- everything here is just easy. Even beating a whole table of Israeli  dudes at games (again!).

Here’s some wonderful people and things that made my week in Granada that much better:

The Irishman (+beer). Tu no necesitas mas.

Mudd. The journey is forever.

Oh Rich. The loveable and completely insane Britt who I adopted as my brother for the week.

Bag o' agua!

Anyway. it was awesome. I love Granada and after writing this blog post (forgot to publish till now—oops) I returned not once, but 2 more times!

You know, it’s just a widdy biddy little active volcano.

So are you impressed by these pictures? Probably not. But everyone that was at the Arenal viewpoint that night were, because I’m pretty sure it’s the only point and shoot that could get even a glimmer of the magnificent lava show. So just for y’all who were there, or want to take awesome pics when you’re traveling, here’s the camera I use:

Canon PowerShot S90
It’s has the potential to be fully manual and fully awesome. Runs about $400, worth it.