Having just passed seven weeks on the road in Central America and now having only two days left in Guatemala before I return home this Thursday, I find myself cooling my heels in Antigua--I've run a bit over budget this week--and mentally summing up my journey.
My trip was successful in many ways. First, and most importantly, I allowed myself enough time to get truly immersed in the local culture. Though my original, vague goal of reaching beautiful Merida, Venezuela via Costa Rica and Panama was probably unrealistic given my penchant for taking things slowly and my unwillingness to spend more than four hours in a bus on any given day, I did achieve an important secondary goal of visiting several new places--notably Leon (Nicaragua), Perquin (El Salvador), Chichicastenango (Guatemala), and the beautiful countryside of the Ruta de Lenca in western Honduras (Los Cipreses, Marcala, La Esperanza, Gracias, and Santa Rosa de Copan). Also new for me were my brief stops on the Pacific coasts of both El Salvador and Nicaragua.
It was very important for me to give this trip a lot of time. My initial trips here in 2008 and 2009 were too brief--and too rushed--for me to do much more than take a quick glance at a region I'd found I liked at least as much as Southeast Asia--if not more so. One of the joys of traveling in Central America is the geographical fact that all these countries are very small, so the backpacking tourist can cover quite a lot of ground in relatively little time. Despite their size, however, these countries together boast an incredible diversity of peoples, languages, food, climates, and geographical features such as mountains, volcanos, cowboy countryside, beaches, two very different sea or ocean coasts, and numerous lakes--from the huge Lake Nicaragua to the large Lake Atitlan in Guatemala--and numerous smaller lakes and rivers between.
Secondly, once I'd postponed the Costa Rica leg of my journey, that opened up the possibility for revisits of Copan Ruinas (Honduras) and Antigua (Guatemala) this past week. Despite the fact that they were second time visits for me, they definitely remain highlights of this trip since I was able to capture hundreds of images of these beautiful places on my "photography mission."
My photography mission itself was a third important goal for me. I was able to take the time I needed to seek out and note photo subjects, mostly of city/town/village buildings and streets, and return later to take photos as unobtrusively as possible. There were three main reasons for this approach.
First, up until this time I had almost no experience taking hundreds of digital photos, so I considered this to be a learning experience for me. Early in my trip I didn't take very many photos at all, preferring instead to get the lie of the land. Later, after I'd become more sure of myself, I began to shoot much more, but with a strong emphasis on experimentation with light, shadow, composition, and subject. My aim here was to try to improve my skills shooting pictures with the modern equivilent of the old "instamatic".
Second, I didn't want to make myself a target for beggars and hustlers, or worse, thieves and muggers, by walking all over the place with a camera around my neck. Whenever I did shoot photos, usually I kept the camera in my shirt pocket or in my daybag until I found a likely subject.
Third, when it comes to photographing people, it pays to be discreet, especially in this region. Guatemalans in particular (but this goes for people all over the world) don't appreciate foreigners taking photos of them without permission. Consequently, I was very careful not to be too aggressive with the lens. Since I had almost no experience shooting candid photos of people, I was particularly careful to tread that path cautiously. I have probably improved a little bit in this area. But readers will notice that--once I get my photos posted--there aren't very many good photos of people apart from some typical street scenes.
Another important goal I achieved with this trip was the establishment of a credible travel blog which I can continue to build in the months and years to come. Committing myself to writing something almost daily was important in that it kept me on my toes, forcing me to wander--not aimlessly as I might have done two decades ago--but with some specific destinations in mind, always remembering that I had to be loyal to a readership (no matter how modest). This helped me to focus everyday on seeing things with a writer's eye. Everyday became a different story for me, and the challenge was to try to improve at creating a daily story that would be compelling to the general reader. I'm not sure how well I succeeded in that, but I think I've definitely made a good start.
Showing posts with label Nicaragua. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nicaragua. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Copan Ruinas and Beyond
Making up for yesterday's "lost" day, I grabbed a 7.30 bus this morning to La Entrada, the crossroads town in northwestern Honduras where I needed to catch a transfer to Copan Ruinas. I was checked into my hotel before noon and at the impressive Mayan archaeological site by 1.00 p.m.
This was my second trip to Copan following an August 2008 visit during which I had no camera. Today's visit was mainly for the purpose of getting photos--in that I can report I succeeded beyond expectations.
Click the following link for a very interesting website about Copan Ruinas:
http://www.honduras.net/copan/
Apart from the thrill of again seeing this amazingly well preserved site, I can report the oddity of traveling from one of the least touristed areas of Honduras--the Ruta de Lenca which I've just traversed from Perquin to Santa Rosa--to one of the top tourist destinations in Central America.
The village of Copan Ruinas, which I remember vaguely as a quiet, hot, dusty, and somewhat unkempt municipality now sparkles and shines vibrant with international restaurants, coffee shops and bars, a slew of hotels, and more tourists than I've seen anywhere apart from Granada, Nicaragua. These tourists are more affluent and of a wider age range than the college age backpackers I encountered in Nicaragua. The French seem particularly well represented here.
Readers of this blog have probably noticed that I'm not a huge fan of spending big bucks for the "touristy type" tours no matter where I go. Anything that costs more than $20 gets a long hard look before I decide to spend.
But the $15 admission charge to these 1600 year old ruins were definitely worth the splurge for me--even for a second time. From its Classic heyday circa 426-900 C.E. this important Mayan settlement was second only to the even more remarkable--and larger--ruins in Tikal, Guatemala.
Now that I'm only seven miles from the Guatemalan border, and a six hour microbus ride to Antigua, and since my return mission to Copan is basically complete, it's feasible for me to catch tomorrow's noon micro out of here and be in Antigua tomorrow night. From there the famous market town of Chichicastenago is only a couple hours away and Guatemala City's airport is only an hour or so. I will be very happy to have most of these arduous bus trips behind me.
A note about my photos: my readers understand, as I do, that a cutting edge 21st century blog needs photos along with other up-to-date bells and whistles. I appreciate my readers for their patience in bearing with me until I can return to the States, download the software, and upload some of my hundreds of photos. I hope to have an excellent slide show on this blog by August 1.
This was my second trip to Copan following an August 2008 visit during which I had no camera. Today's visit was mainly for the purpose of getting photos--in that I can report I succeeded beyond expectations.
Click the following link for a very interesting website about Copan Ruinas:
http://www.honduras.net/copan/
Apart from the thrill of again seeing this amazingly well preserved site, I can report the oddity of traveling from one of the least touristed areas of Honduras--the Ruta de Lenca which I've just traversed from Perquin to Santa Rosa--to one of the top tourist destinations in Central America.
The village of Copan Ruinas, which I remember vaguely as a quiet, hot, dusty, and somewhat unkempt municipality now sparkles and shines vibrant with international restaurants, coffee shops and bars, a slew of hotels, and more tourists than I've seen anywhere apart from Granada, Nicaragua. These tourists are more affluent and of a wider age range than the college age backpackers I encountered in Nicaragua. The French seem particularly well represented here.
Readers of this blog have probably noticed that I'm not a huge fan of spending big bucks for the "touristy type" tours no matter where I go. Anything that costs more than $20 gets a long hard look before I decide to spend.
But the $15 admission charge to these 1600 year old ruins were definitely worth the splurge for me--even for a second time. From its Classic heyday circa 426-900 C.E. this important Mayan settlement was second only to the even more remarkable--and larger--ruins in Tikal, Guatemala.
Now that I'm only seven miles from the Guatemalan border, and a six hour microbus ride to Antigua, and since my return mission to Copan is basically complete, it's feasible for me to catch tomorrow's noon micro out of here and be in Antigua tomorrow night. From there the famous market town of Chichicastenago is only a couple hours away and Guatemala City's airport is only an hour or so. I will be very happy to have most of these arduous bus trips behind me.
A note about my photos: my readers understand, as I do, that a cutting edge 21st century blog needs photos along with other up-to-date bells and whistles. I appreciate my readers for their patience in bearing with me until I can return to the States, download the software, and upload some of my hundreds of photos. I hope to have an excellent slide show on this blog by August 1.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Gracias a Dios! Another Highlight. . .
After two nights in Gracias I feel the pull of its magnetic charm sucking me into itself with the plea: stay here for at least another night! This place is making me want to stick around nearly as much as Leon captured me this year and Granada/San Juan del Sur did in 2009.
According to legend the founder of Gracias, a 16th century conquistador, struggled his way through the rugged country of the region looking for a suitable site to build a Central American capital city. When at last he stumbled upon this relatively level but small valley, he is said to have fallen to his knees crying: "Gracias a Dios! Finally some flat land!"
Its attributes were immediately apparent to me once I was checked into my room at the Guancascos. My room is on the top level of a multilevel edifice built into a high hill overlooking the entire town. The terrace outside my door therefore offers one of the most stunning private views in the area. Rocky forested hills surround us but in stark contrast to the typical hot and dusty towns of western Honduras, this place is enveloped in multiple hues of green foliage.
The hotel--maybe the finest in town--is owned and managed by an expatriate Dutch woman, Frony, who oversees a capable staff of locals who run the good restaurant (with excellent local coffee) and keep the place beautifully clean. At around $20 nightly, this place is one of the best values I've encountered on a six week journey of hotels which runs the complete gamut. I believe most of my readers will not blame me for feeling that another late afternoon with a cold drink on "my" terrace as the sun goes down, enjoying the beauty of this place, is definitely in the cards.
On the recommendation of Rachel, the intern I met in Marcala, I ate at the restaurant of the Posada de Don Juan where I ate a sopa de tortilla that absolutely was to die for. (A common regional dish, sopa de tortilla has a curry-type soup base with fresh cheese, avocado, and baked tortilla chips--like Doritos without the MSG.)
The town has the usual cathedral, in this case a small colonial structure, and a well-kept parque central plus a couple very good supermarkets as well as the usual bustling local markets and dusty bus terminals. Despite the obvious signs of poverty in some of the residents (my post yesterday was partly inspired by the unusually high number of beggars I've bumped into here) there are also unmistakable signs of prosperity, notably in the many young people. Perhaps this bodes well for the area's future.
A somewhat unusual feature of this beautiful little town is the 19th century castle which is perched even higher than my hotel and has absolutely stunning views for miles around. In the cool interior of the castle are informative placards in Spanish and English, one of which tells us that the local kids grow up playing here and "many fall in love here." This confirmed my initial impression that the site has all the best characteristics of a lovers' lane.
The foreigners one meets here are mostly young volunteers of various NGOs and of the Peace Corps which, in Honduras, has its largest delegation (of about 260) of any other country in the world. But here and there one can meet other backpacking tourists like me. It's well worth the effort it takes to get to this remote settlement--which maybe is yet another good reason for me not to push onward too quickly. Of course, the longer I stay here the more remote my chances of getting to Chichicastenango, at least this year.
I have eleven days to get to Guatemala City for my return flight home.
According to legend the founder of Gracias, a 16th century conquistador, struggled his way through the rugged country of the region looking for a suitable site to build a Central American capital city. When at last he stumbled upon this relatively level but small valley, he is said to have fallen to his knees crying: "Gracias a Dios! Finally some flat land!"
Its attributes were immediately apparent to me once I was checked into my room at the Guancascos. My room is on the top level of a multilevel edifice built into a high hill overlooking the entire town. The terrace outside my door therefore offers one of the most stunning private views in the area. Rocky forested hills surround us but in stark contrast to the typical hot and dusty towns of western Honduras, this place is enveloped in multiple hues of green foliage.
The hotel--maybe the finest in town--is owned and managed by an expatriate Dutch woman, Frony, who oversees a capable staff of locals who run the good restaurant (with excellent local coffee) and keep the place beautifully clean. At around $20 nightly, this place is one of the best values I've encountered on a six week journey of hotels which runs the complete gamut. I believe most of my readers will not blame me for feeling that another late afternoon with a cold drink on "my" terrace as the sun goes down, enjoying the beauty of this place, is definitely in the cards.
On the recommendation of Rachel, the intern I met in Marcala, I ate at the restaurant of the Posada de Don Juan where I ate a sopa de tortilla that absolutely was to die for. (A common regional dish, sopa de tortilla has a curry-type soup base with fresh cheese, avocado, and baked tortilla chips--like Doritos without the MSG.)
The town has the usual cathedral, in this case a small colonial structure, and a well-kept parque central plus a couple very good supermarkets as well as the usual bustling local markets and dusty bus terminals. Despite the obvious signs of poverty in some of the residents (my post yesterday was partly inspired by the unusually high number of beggars I've bumped into here) there are also unmistakable signs of prosperity, notably in the many young people. Perhaps this bodes well for the area's future.
A somewhat unusual feature of this beautiful little town is the 19th century castle which is perched even higher than my hotel and has absolutely stunning views for miles around. In the cool interior of the castle are informative placards in Spanish and English, one of which tells us that the local kids grow up playing here and "many fall in love here." This confirmed my initial impression that the site has all the best characteristics of a lovers' lane.
The foreigners one meets here are mostly young volunteers of various NGOs and of the Peace Corps which, in Honduras, has its largest delegation (of about 260) of any other country in the world. But here and there one can meet other backpacking tourists like me. It's well worth the effort it takes to get to this remote settlement--which maybe is yet another good reason for me not to push onward too quickly. Of course, the longer I stay here the more remote my chances of getting to Chichicastenango, at least this year.
I have eleven days to get to Guatemala City for my return flight home.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Why Not Travel With Fiddle in Central America?
Now that I've arrived in a place that's crying out for some good oldtime fiddle music, it seems the ideal time to address the issue of travel with musical instruments, or in my case, why I haven't traveled with my violin on these recent trips to Central America.
Since we were kids in a growing "Suzuki violin family" I had always traveled with my instrument, whether to Disney World or on other family road trips, but especially to Grandma and Grandpa's. Our parents felt it was important for us to play impromptu concerts for our relatives and friends, but we also had a fairly strict rule in our family: we had to practice every day, even on family vacations, as Shinich Suzuki always urged Suzuki families to do.
As a young adult my fiddle became both my "passport and bank account" as I used my musical skills to earn money for travel, eventually becoming a globetrotting busker in 1980s Western Europe and 1990s Southeast and Northeast Asia.
My instrument and the music I played weren't only a means of earning a living, but also served as a great way to meet people of all stripes--especially other musicans and other buskers who traveled along the same routes that I did. This was a great advantage to me in my globetrotting as well as in life in general. My fiddle has taken me inside many situations which never could have happened without the very fact that I was a working musician, and mostly outside my home element in the United States.
These are some of the reasons I have always traveled with my instrument. But now that I've become a teacher, it's been possible for me to join a world of the ordinary tourist. I think of it as a type of "accidental tourism," to qoute from the novel and movie of that title, because in doing so I felt way outside of my usual element.
When I first started traveling in Latin America in the late 1990s and early 2000s with a couple trips to Mexico, I continued to take my instrument along even if I didn't use it very much. Colonial cities such as Guanajuato or San Luis Potosi were made for the itinerant musician, but I didn't do any busking there, preferring instead to hear Mexican groups in the streets and plazas of those cities.
When I returned to Thailand for visits in 2005 and 2006 I continued to bring the instrument because many of my friends there are musicians and it was always possible to sit in and jam with them while they worked. And on my 2007 visit part of my purpose there was to record some 22 fiddle tunes which I did with a couple collaborators on guitar.
So why not travel with the instrument now? Really it comes down to a couple logistical issues, starting with post-9/11 hassles and airline baggage restrictions. For a time in the mid-2000s musicians all over America were complaining that the airlines were, in some cases, forcing them to check their instruments in the cargo hold. Though that era seems thankfully to have passed, more recently the airlines have become very strict about the size and number of carry on bags they allow, and they charge about $25 for each bag over that they require you to check in.
Secondly, my first two trips to Central America in 2008 and 2009 were only two weeks in length. Because of some uncertainty regarding the difficulties of bus travel in the region, and since I anticipated that I wouldn't use my instrument very much--if at all-- I decided then to leave the violin home and travel only with a small backpack and a day bag. This turned out to be the most convenient way to get around, but especially on the airlines and on some of the notorious "chicken" buses (they just keep packing them in like Colonel Sanders) in Guatemala, Nicaragua, and neighboring countries. I have to admit that questions of security also weighed heavily in my mind: would I lose my instrument to forgetfulness (a life-long nightmare of mine)? Even worse, would I lose it to theft? It didn't seem to be worth the risk for trips of such short duration. Yet I also must admit that I felt very strange traveling without my fiddle on those two occasions.
What about this trip now, which is seven weeks long? Well, I'm still dealing with the issues outlined above, but a major difference now is I'm taking a lot more time with this journey, so now the question has reasserted itself. And with my arrival in Perquin, it seems a shame that I won't be able to get to know the villagers and their children by offering up some fine impromptu fiddle music for their entertainment and enjoyment. Music has always been a cross cultural way to break the ice and form some connection with strangers. And that I'm not doing so on this trip is indeed a bit disconcerting for me.
This question certainly will pop up again whenever I decided to take more than a week or two in a given region. I would like to find a way to travel again with a backpack, a day bag, and an instrument, but for the moment I'm glad I don't have to worry about an expensive violin, and how I'm going to transport it safely on the next crowded, rattletrap of a bus I board.
Since we were kids in a growing "Suzuki violin family" I had always traveled with my instrument, whether to Disney World or on other family road trips, but especially to Grandma and Grandpa's. Our parents felt it was important for us to play impromptu concerts for our relatives and friends, but we also had a fairly strict rule in our family: we had to practice every day, even on family vacations, as Shinich Suzuki always urged Suzuki families to do.
As a young adult my fiddle became both my "passport and bank account" as I used my musical skills to earn money for travel, eventually becoming a globetrotting busker in 1980s Western Europe and 1990s Southeast and Northeast Asia.
My instrument and the music I played weren't only a means of earning a living, but also served as a great way to meet people of all stripes--especially other musicans and other buskers who traveled along the same routes that I did. This was a great advantage to me in my globetrotting as well as in life in general. My fiddle has taken me inside many situations which never could have happened without the very fact that I was a working musician, and mostly outside my home element in the United States.
These are some of the reasons I have always traveled with my instrument. But now that I've become a teacher, it's been possible for me to join a world of the ordinary tourist. I think of it as a type of "accidental tourism," to qoute from the novel and movie of that title, because in doing so I felt way outside of my usual element.
When I first started traveling in Latin America in the late 1990s and early 2000s with a couple trips to Mexico, I continued to take my instrument along even if I didn't use it very much. Colonial cities such as Guanajuato or San Luis Potosi were made for the itinerant musician, but I didn't do any busking there, preferring instead to hear Mexican groups in the streets and plazas of those cities.
When I returned to Thailand for visits in 2005 and 2006 I continued to bring the instrument because many of my friends there are musicians and it was always possible to sit in and jam with them while they worked. And on my 2007 visit part of my purpose there was to record some 22 fiddle tunes which I did with a couple collaborators on guitar.
So why not travel with the instrument now? Really it comes down to a couple logistical issues, starting with post-9/11 hassles and airline baggage restrictions. For a time in the mid-2000s musicians all over America were complaining that the airlines were, in some cases, forcing them to check their instruments in the cargo hold. Though that era seems thankfully to have passed, more recently the airlines have become very strict about the size and number of carry on bags they allow, and they charge about $25 for each bag over that they require you to check in.
Secondly, my first two trips to Central America in 2008 and 2009 were only two weeks in length. Because of some uncertainty regarding the difficulties of bus travel in the region, and since I anticipated that I wouldn't use my instrument very much--if at all-- I decided then to leave the violin home and travel only with a small backpack and a day bag. This turned out to be the most convenient way to get around, but especially on the airlines and on some of the notorious "chicken" buses (they just keep packing them in like Colonel Sanders) in Guatemala, Nicaragua, and neighboring countries. I have to admit that questions of security also weighed heavily in my mind: would I lose my instrument to forgetfulness (a life-long nightmare of mine)? Even worse, would I lose it to theft? It didn't seem to be worth the risk for trips of such short duration. Yet I also must admit that I felt very strange traveling without my fiddle on those two occasions.
What about this trip now, which is seven weeks long? Well, I'm still dealing with the issues outlined above, but a major difference now is I'm taking a lot more time with this journey, so now the question has reasserted itself. And with my arrival in Perquin, it seems a shame that I won't be able to get to know the villagers and their children by offering up some fine impromptu fiddle music for their entertainment and enjoyment. Music has always been a cross cultural way to break the ice and form some connection with strangers. And that I'm not doing so on this trip is indeed a bit disconcerting for me.
This question certainly will pop up again whenever I decided to take more than a week or two in a given region. I would like to find a way to travel again with a backpack, a day bag, and an instrument, but for the moment I'm glad I don't have to worry about an expensive violin, and how I'm going to transport it safely on the next crowded, rattletrap of a bus I board.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Unanticipated Honduras Leg Adds Excitement
We've had fairly steady rains for three days straight in northwestern Nicaragua, southern Honduras, and eastern El Salvador, but meanwhile I've managed to cover some miles the past two days, and I've fixed an itinerary for the coming week.
With the postponement of the Costa Rica leg, a new Honduran leg becomes feasible, even desirable. Apart from two recent transit trips through Choluteca and a brief visit to Copan Ruinas in 2008, this will be my first extended visit, so as always with a new place, I feel excited.
After a day or two in Perquin, to begin hopefully tomorrow, I can continue north on that road to Sabanetas at the Honduran border which will place me in western Honduras. The first big town on that road is Marcala.
Continuing further northwest will bring me to the the colonial town of Gracias, founded in the 16th century, another of the many Spanish capitals dotting Central America. The Lonely Planet tells me this region is seldom visited by the tourist, but that it's even more charming for that reason. This is relatively high country, surrounded by beautiful mountains and populated with friendly rural folk.
From Gracias the road winds up in Santa Rosa de Copan which-- the Lonely Planet warns--is still some hours from the famous Copan Ruinas, which is another primary destination for me. Though I visited this massive Mayan attraction two years ago, the archaeological site is so impressive and well preserved that I feel I should pass through again in order to get some photos.
From Copan Ruinas, the Guatemalan border is just ten minutes away, so I can cross back there, take a bus to Antigua, and hopefully have time to visit Chichicastenango before wrapping up this trip.
With the postponement of the Costa Rica leg, a new Honduran leg becomes feasible, even desirable. Apart from two recent transit trips through Choluteca and a brief visit to Copan Ruinas in 2008, this will be my first extended visit, so as always with a new place, I feel excited.
After a day or two in Perquin, to begin hopefully tomorrow, I can continue north on that road to Sabanetas at the Honduran border which will place me in western Honduras. The first big town on that road is Marcala.
Continuing further northwest will bring me to the the colonial town of Gracias, founded in the 16th century, another of the many Spanish capitals dotting Central America. The Lonely Planet tells me this region is seldom visited by the tourist, but that it's even more charming for that reason. This is relatively high country, surrounded by beautiful mountains and populated with friendly rural folk.
From Gracias the road winds up in Santa Rosa de Copan which-- the Lonely Planet warns--is still some hours from the famous Copan Ruinas, which is another primary destination for me. Though I visited this massive Mayan attraction two years ago, the archaeological site is so impressive and well preserved that I feel I should pass through again in order to get some photos.
From Copan Ruinas, the Guatemalan border is just ten minutes away, so I can cross back there, take a bus to Antigua, and hopefully have time to visit Chichicastenango before wrapping up this trip.
Friday, June 25, 2010
In Choluteca Everyone Wears Honduran Blue
I'm writing from Choluteca, Honduras where I just watched perhaps the most exciting 0-0 draw ever between lowly Honduras, fighting for its life in the World Cup against European bigshots Switzerland. Today's prime time match comes after another hard-fought 0-0 contest between Portugal and Brazil this morning.
In Chinandega, Nicaragua where I saw the Brazil match, everything in town stopped while people gathered in the cafes to watch perennial favorites Brazil.
The Honduras match was just beginning as I crossed the border this afternoon. Though I don't know enough about the standings to report much here, I'm pretty sure that Honduras's valient effort today won't help it to gain a spot in the "knock out" round. But boy! The last 20 minutes or so, which I watched in the lobby of my hotel with some locals, was non-stop action, back and forth across the field, as both teams expended their utmost as if it was the most important match in the world.
Afterwards, when it was done, the players lying on the field collapsed in utter exhaustion, the quiet streets of this southern Honduran town filled with locals going about their business, many of them dressed in their team's blue jerseys.
In Chinandega, Nicaragua where I saw the Brazil match, everything in town stopped while people gathered in the cafes to watch perennial favorites Brazil.
The Honduras match was just beginning as I crossed the border this afternoon. Though I don't know enough about the standings to report much here, I'm pretty sure that Honduras's valient effort today won't help it to gain a spot in the "knock out" round. But boy! The last 20 minutes or so, which I watched in the lobby of my hotel with some locals, was non-stop action, back and forth across the field, as both teams expended their utmost as if it was the most important match in the world.
Afterwards, when it was done, the players lying on the field collapsed in utter exhaustion, the quiet streets of this southern Honduran town filled with locals going about their business, many of them dressed in their team's blue jerseys.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Return to Leon Via Managua and Via Via
After my encounter with Moses I cleared out of my hotel room. My timing was excellent as I headed back to parque central with my backpack because the Managua express was just leaving and I got one of its last seats. In Managua I transfered right away for a microbus to Leon. Unusually, this micro was airconditioned, so it was a nice cool ride.
As we approached the city I could see storm clouds coming in, and I wondered if I really wanted to continue as far as Chinandega. To put off the decision, I decided to take a taxi into the center for coffee. It was only 1.00 p.m. or so and I had plenty of time to continue my journey.
But in the city we passed a hotel that I'd noticed before, having walked past it many times. If I stay, I'll try this one, I thought, rather than go back to the "widower's" place.
That's how I found Via Via. Though I didn't choose it from my guidebooks, it turns out this place gets very high marks from the Lonely Planet.
I like it for a number of reasons. First, the bar and restaurant seemed very inviting. Second, I could tell the place was popular with a certain type of young, western traveler. Third, even though a bar was attached, the hotel was far enough away from that potentially raucous action, that it wouldn't matter to me. And fourth, the rooms were really nice, cozy and inviting, with high ceilings, a very clean bathroom, a large bed, and (I always like this rare touch) a reading lamp! The fan was in great shape, and the room was really big, too. I was immediately sold on it. Best of all, it cost only 350 cordobas.
So that's my plug for Via Via--a fine place to stay, especially if you're a traveler of a certain age, and want to meet others like you. As an added bonus, the restaurant/bar turns out to be popular with young locals, too. Remember Willy? He spotted me last night where he was seated at a table with a young woman (his Salvadoran girlfriend?). "Yo, man, whassup!" Believe it or not, it took me a moment to remember his name.
"Willy!" I finally said, as we shook hands.
Via Via has nice large maps on the wall of Nicaragua including a bumpy topographical one with the mountains rising out from and around the country's principal geographical features of the very large Lake Managua and the even bigger Lake Nicaragua. The walls of the place are full of other useful and not so useful information.
According to one notice, Via Via's clientele in 2008 consisted of the following:
Europeans 53.25%
Americans 19.29%
Canadians 10.41%
Asians 6.07%
Latin Americans 5.85%
Oceanians 4.84%
Africans 0.29%
Via Via has a book exchange with volumes in English, Spanish, French, German, Dutch, and Japanese.
I met a couple Quebecois Canadians, Max and Hugo, who were watching England beat Slovenia 1-0 this morning while the U.S. beat Algeria, also 1-0. Ghana managed to hold mighty Germany 0-0 until the 60th-something minute.
In Via Via's bar/restaurant and in the courtyard where the magnificent rooms are located, I hear the accents of other Americans (and possibly Anglo-Canadians), British, Scottish, and Europeans including Belgian and Scandinavian. This smorgasbord of young backpackers reminds me in a nostalgiac way of my younger days as a backpacker in Europe and Asia. What happens to our youth?! sigh. . .
As we approached the city I could see storm clouds coming in, and I wondered if I really wanted to continue as far as Chinandega. To put off the decision, I decided to take a taxi into the center for coffee. It was only 1.00 p.m. or so and I had plenty of time to continue my journey.
But in the city we passed a hotel that I'd noticed before, having walked past it many times. If I stay, I'll try this one, I thought, rather than go back to the "widower's" place.
That's how I found Via Via. Though I didn't choose it from my guidebooks, it turns out this place gets very high marks from the Lonely Planet.
I like it for a number of reasons. First, the bar and restaurant seemed very inviting. Second, I could tell the place was popular with a certain type of young, western traveler. Third, even though a bar was attached, the hotel was far enough away from that potentially raucous action, that it wouldn't matter to me. And fourth, the rooms were really nice, cozy and inviting, with high ceilings, a very clean bathroom, a large bed, and (I always like this rare touch) a reading lamp! The fan was in great shape, and the room was really big, too. I was immediately sold on it. Best of all, it cost only 350 cordobas.
So that's my plug for Via Via--a fine place to stay, especially if you're a traveler of a certain age, and want to meet others like you. As an added bonus, the restaurant/bar turns out to be popular with young locals, too. Remember Willy? He spotted me last night where he was seated at a table with a young woman (his Salvadoran girlfriend?). "Yo, man, whassup!" Believe it or not, it took me a moment to remember his name.
"Willy!" I finally said, as we shook hands.
Via Via has nice large maps on the wall of Nicaragua including a bumpy topographical one with the mountains rising out from and around the country's principal geographical features of the very large Lake Managua and the even bigger Lake Nicaragua. The walls of the place are full of other useful and not so useful information.
According to one notice, Via Via's clientele in 2008 consisted of the following:
Europeans 53.25%
Americans 19.29%
Canadians 10.41%
Asians 6.07%
Latin Americans 5.85%
Oceanians 4.84%
Africans 0.29%
Via Via has a book exchange with volumes in English, Spanish, French, German, Dutch, and Japanese.
I met a couple Quebecois Canadians, Max and Hugo, who were watching England beat Slovenia 1-0 this morning while the U.S. beat Algeria, also 1-0. Ghana managed to hold mighty Germany 0-0 until the 60th-something minute.
In Via Via's bar/restaurant and in the courtyard where the magnificent rooms are located, I hear the accents of other Americans (and possibly Anglo-Canadians), British, Scottish, and Europeans including Belgian and Scandinavian. This smorgasbord of young backpackers reminds me in a nostalgiac way of my younger days as a backpacker in Europe and Asia. What happens to our youth?! sigh. . .
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Helping Moses Stay In School
I was walking across the Granada's parque central late last Saturday afternoon when the kid caught my eye. Later what struck me was the pure desperation I glimpsed in his eyes.
"Hey, man, hello, how are you?" he said as he approached me. Thus began a short conversation of small talk with Moses, a 19 year old native Granadan. He was yet another of several young local men that I met over the weekend who have an excellent grasp of English from their interactions with tourists.
Granada is the main town that kicked off Nicaragua's recently successful experience with tourism, and it shows. There are so many hotel rooms that it's easy to find a decent one for less than $20. And there are plenty of "touristy" type amenities such as horse and carriage rides, and restaurants--some with "international" cuisine--that have inflated "tourist prices" to match.
Unfortunately, there are also some of the more unpleasant kinds of things you find in a tourist town, such as an unusually high number of beggars, hustlers and even drug dealers.
So I was already on my guard when Moses approached me. But he was catching me at a bad time, toward the end of a hot day, when I was on my way back to my room for a cold shower and a nap. And since I sensed he was about to pitch me for some dough, I quickly brought things to a close.
"Listen, it was nice to meet you, but I have to get going now, " I said as we shook hands. "Maybe I'll see you again here in the center." And I turned to leave.
Just as I turned onto the street of my hotel, I heard him calling me, half a block behind. This I really didn't appreciate--he had followed me for a block and a half--but I turned around to face him.
He began to tell me the story of how he is a student who goes to school everyday. "The school is free, and this is my last year, but I can't afford the cost of the notebooks. . ." I let him speak in this vein for another 30 seconds.
"Listen," I said, "I'm sorry but I cannot help you at the moment. Look for me again sometime later in the center, but right now I can't do anything for you."
This was true since I had only a little cash, not even enough for a coffee, on my person. But I was annoyed that he'd followed me almost to my hotel, and that just wouldn't do in my book. So he turned away in defeat, still with that look of hopelessness in his eyes, and we went our separate ways.
I didn't see him again on Sunday or Monday but this morning as I was having my coffee and watching the first half of the Uruguay-Mexico match, he spotted me and approached, "Hey man, how you doing?"
"I'm good, how are you?" I said as he joined me at my table. And he began to tell me his story, that he's a student in his last year of a five year "college" (but I think he meant high school), that most of his family lives in Costa Rica. "There is more work there, so my mother, my brother and my sisters live there to work. It's very hard to find a job here in Nicaragua."
He said his father died eight years ago in a car accident and his mother remarried "but my stepfather doesn't like me." In Granada he stays in the house of a friend's family "but they are very poor. Basically I'm alone here."
He wants to visit his mother in Alajuela, near Costa Rica's capital San Jose, but he doesn't have a passport. "I have no visa, either." His mission now is to graduate from school where he takes "all the subjects: history, geography, Spanish, mathematics, physics." He will graduate in November this year, then "when I have my diploma I can start to look for a job as a waiter or bartender or..."
"Tell me about the notebooks." So he explains that although school is free, he needs five notebooks, one for each class. "They are too expensive." He said he skipped school on Monday because he doesn't have anything in which to take his notes.
So I question him a bit. "When does your school year begin?" In January, he said. "So since January you go without notebooks?" No, but the ones he had are now full. "What about your teacher? Can he help?" The school is already free, he said. It's not his teacher's responsibility to come up with the notebooks. "What does your teacher say if you go to school but without the notebooks?" He says, Moses: where are your notebooks? How can you finish your schoolwork with no notebooks?
"How much do the notebooks cost?" About 110 cordobas for five notebooks at the market, a little more than five bucks. "That's a lot of money!" I say, and it's true, there's no doubt about it. It's about what we in America would pay for the same thing--maybe even more expensive than what we would pay.
"At the library," Moses said, "they are even more expensive, maybe 30 cordobas each."
Five bucks is a lot of money, I thought to myself, but if his story is true I should help him out. Five bucks is a lot, but not if it helps a kid to stay in school.
I finished my coffee and made a decision. "Okay, let's go to the market and buy you some notebooks."
So off we went. It's clear Moses isn't a street kid. He's clean but ragged around the edges. His jeans and t-shirt are a little bit old, maybe, but they are freshly laundered. Like me, he wears open leather sandals, but his are a few years old and worn, probably in need of repair. I'm sure it's not just notebooks that he needs.
We approached a woman's stall where thick notebooks were stacked up. Moses has been here before, and he knows exactly what he wants, but I'm not sure what he's asking the woman.
I ask her how much for a notebook. "Vente cinco." Twenty five. So that would be 125 for five, even more than what Moses had said.
But now Moses is picking up only three notebooks, and he seems to be asking the woman for some kind of discount. Since my Spanish is "pre-Twinkle," I'm kind of lost, but I've already made a decision, and I'll follow it through.
"One hundred five cordobas," says the woman, for the three notebooks Moses has in hand. I pay her and we leave. "Will this help you? Do you have enough pens?" I ask.
"This helps me very much, " he says. "Thank you for helping me with this. Yes, I have enough pens."
Was this some kind of "notebook scam"? Did he have an "arrangement" with the owner of the stall? Why did she tell me they cost 25 cordobas, but then charge me 30 cordobas more than the 75 total that three should have cost? The woman had been hesitant to name her price, and I had been in the dark with my limited Spanish.
But I had already made a decision, and I wasn't interested in any more details. I didn't feel that it was useful to pursue any more info from Moses if the cost of that info required either one of us to lose face.
Besides, when he turned my way to thank me, the look of pure gratitude on his face was enough to set my mind at ease.
We walked back to the center, and we parted ways with another handshake. "Thank you very much again for helping me with this."
"Buenas suerte, " I said to him, "Good luck in school, and maybe I'll see you again next year if I come back to Granada, and then you will have your diploma and your job."
"Good luck!" he said. "I hope to see you here again."
"Hey, man, hello, how are you?" he said as he approached me. Thus began a short conversation of small talk with Moses, a 19 year old native Granadan. He was yet another of several young local men that I met over the weekend who have an excellent grasp of English from their interactions with tourists.
Granada is the main town that kicked off Nicaragua's recently successful experience with tourism, and it shows. There are so many hotel rooms that it's easy to find a decent one for less than $20. And there are plenty of "touristy" type amenities such as horse and carriage rides, and restaurants--some with "international" cuisine--that have inflated "tourist prices" to match.
Unfortunately, there are also some of the more unpleasant kinds of things you find in a tourist town, such as an unusually high number of beggars, hustlers and even drug dealers.
So I was already on my guard when Moses approached me. But he was catching me at a bad time, toward the end of a hot day, when I was on my way back to my room for a cold shower and a nap. And since I sensed he was about to pitch me for some dough, I quickly brought things to a close.
"Listen, it was nice to meet you, but I have to get going now, " I said as we shook hands. "Maybe I'll see you again here in the center." And I turned to leave.
Just as I turned onto the street of my hotel, I heard him calling me, half a block behind. This I really didn't appreciate--he had followed me for a block and a half--but I turned around to face him.
He began to tell me the story of how he is a student who goes to school everyday. "The school is free, and this is my last year, but I can't afford the cost of the notebooks. . ." I let him speak in this vein for another 30 seconds.
"Listen," I said, "I'm sorry but I cannot help you at the moment. Look for me again sometime later in the center, but right now I can't do anything for you."
This was true since I had only a little cash, not even enough for a coffee, on my person. But I was annoyed that he'd followed me almost to my hotel, and that just wouldn't do in my book. So he turned away in defeat, still with that look of hopelessness in his eyes, and we went our separate ways.
I didn't see him again on Sunday or Monday but this morning as I was having my coffee and watching the first half of the Uruguay-Mexico match, he spotted me and approached, "Hey man, how you doing?"
"I'm good, how are you?" I said as he joined me at my table. And he began to tell me his story, that he's a student in his last year of a five year "college" (but I think he meant high school), that most of his family lives in Costa Rica. "There is more work there, so my mother, my brother and my sisters live there to work. It's very hard to find a job here in Nicaragua."
He said his father died eight years ago in a car accident and his mother remarried "but my stepfather doesn't like me." In Granada he stays in the house of a friend's family "but they are very poor. Basically I'm alone here."
He wants to visit his mother in Alajuela, near Costa Rica's capital San Jose, but he doesn't have a passport. "I have no visa, either." His mission now is to graduate from school where he takes "all the subjects: history, geography, Spanish, mathematics, physics." He will graduate in November this year, then "when I have my diploma I can start to look for a job as a waiter or bartender or..."
"Tell me about the notebooks." So he explains that although school is free, he needs five notebooks, one for each class. "They are too expensive." He said he skipped school on Monday because he doesn't have anything in which to take his notes.
So I question him a bit. "When does your school year begin?" In January, he said. "So since January you go without notebooks?" No, but the ones he had are now full. "What about your teacher? Can he help?" The school is already free, he said. It's not his teacher's responsibility to come up with the notebooks. "What does your teacher say if you go to school but without the notebooks?" He says, Moses: where are your notebooks? How can you finish your schoolwork with no notebooks?
"How much do the notebooks cost?" About 110 cordobas for five notebooks at the market, a little more than five bucks. "That's a lot of money!" I say, and it's true, there's no doubt about it. It's about what we in America would pay for the same thing--maybe even more expensive than what we would pay.
"At the library," Moses said, "they are even more expensive, maybe 30 cordobas each."
Five bucks is a lot of money, I thought to myself, but if his story is true I should help him out. Five bucks is a lot, but not if it helps a kid to stay in school.
I finished my coffee and made a decision. "Okay, let's go to the market and buy you some notebooks."
So off we went. It's clear Moses isn't a street kid. He's clean but ragged around the edges. His jeans and t-shirt are a little bit old, maybe, but they are freshly laundered. Like me, he wears open leather sandals, but his are a few years old and worn, probably in need of repair. I'm sure it's not just notebooks that he needs.
We approached a woman's stall where thick notebooks were stacked up. Moses has been here before, and he knows exactly what he wants, but I'm not sure what he's asking the woman.
I ask her how much for a notebook. "Vente cinco." Twenty five. So that would be 125 for five, even more than what Moses had said.
But now Moses is picking up only three notebooks, and he seems to be asking the woman for some kind of discount. Since my Spanish is "pre-Twinkle," I'm kind of lost, but I've already made a decision, and I'll follow it through.
"One hundred five cordobas," says the woman, for the three notebooks Moses has in hand. I pay her and we leave. "Will this help you? Do you have enough pens?" I ask.
"This helps me very much, " he says. "Thank you for helping me with this. Yes, I have enough pens."
Was this some kind of "notebook scam"? Did he have an "arrangement" with the owner of the stall? Why did she tell me they cost 25 cordobas, but then charge me 30 cordobas more than the 75 total that three should have cost? The woman had been hesitant to name her price, and I had been in the dark with my limited Spanish.
But I had already made a decision, and I wasn't interested in any more details. I didn't feel that it was useful to pursue any more info from Moses if the cost of that info required either one of us to lose face.
Besides, when he turned my way to thank me, the look of pure gratitude on his face was enough to set my mind at ease.
We walked back to the center, and we parted ways with another handshake. "Thank you very much again for helping me with this."
"Buenas suerte, " I said to him, "Good luck in school, and maybe I'll see you again next year if I come back to Granada, and then you will have your diploma and your job."
"Good luck!" he said. "I hope to see you here again."
Monday, June 21, 2010
TV's Survivor Being Filmed in San Juan del Sur
The current issue of the Nica/Tico Times also has a letter to the editor about the filming of the television hit Survivor at Nicaragua's surfing mecca of San Juan del Sur. I guess this means that pleasant little town has "arrived" on the world stage.
But when I read that I also more or less decided to give it a miss this time and start heading back north tomorrow.
I've had a relaxing few days in Granada, taking advantage of a surprisingly decent $12 room with a very nice local family; I've had a chance to enjoy several World Cup matches over the past few days;
I've got the Costa Rica/Tortuguero leg of my trip satisfactorily postponed; I have my laundry freshly done and packed; and I have a strong desire to get back to higher country and visit remote Perquin, El Salvador.
But when I read that I also more or less decided to give it a miss this time and start heading back north tomorrow.
I've had a relaxing few days in Granada, taking advantage of a surprisingly decent $12 room with a very nice local family; I've had a chance to enjoy several World Cup matches over the past few days;
I've got the Costa Rica/Tortuguero leg of my trip satisfactorily postponed; I have my laundry freshly done and packed; and I have a strong desire to get back to higher country and visit remote Perquin, El Salvador.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Poneloya/Las Peñitas Links
Check on the upper right hand side of this page, or at the blog list below for links to Poneloya/Las Peñitas. This blog has good photos of the area which is the best I can do for my readers at this stage of my journey.
Enjoy. . .
Enjoy. . .
This Morning in Las Peñitas
The Barco de Oro is located inside a small, shallow lagoon in Las Peñitas and therefore is sheltered from the big surfer's waves that constantly crash ashore in these parts. Even at high tide you can walk out very far and the water still only comes up to your knees.
At low tide some fish get caught in the wet sand that spreads for a quarter of a mile from the terrace of the hotel's restaurant out to the sandbar in the distance. This morning, the villagers caught at least three or four stingrays in this manner.
Other fish trapped at low tide quickly become carrion for black garbage-picking birds as the many ravens that flew high above attest. Neighborhood dogs also attempt to get their share.
Every now & then a local fishing boat returns from sea, and the villagers--men, women, and children--walk out into the lagoon to get first dibs on the freshest of the morning's catch. Little toddlers "help" their mothers by carrying back a fish half their size, but back ashore their fish becomes a toy to play with in the dwindling pool of salt water.
It's very quiet and peaceful here; I'm not surprised this place sticks for me. Unlike San Juan del Sur, it still remains largely undeveloped in terms of infrastructure for rich foreigners and not-so-rich backpackers like me. As the scene this morning seems to indicate, the original character and ambiance of the village remains for the casual visitor to enjoy.
Major changes have already happened here, and surely there are more big changes to come. Hopefully it won't be as quick and as jarring as in other places such as Koh Samui, Thailand which was turned upside down and shaken to its foundation in less than five years.
At low tide some fish get caught in the wet sand that spreads for a quarter of a mile from the terrace of the hotel's restaurant out to the sandbar in the distance. This morning, the villagers caught at least three or four stingrays in this manner.
Other fish trapped at low tide quickly become carrion for black garbage-picking birds as the many ravens that flew high above attest. Neighborhood dogs also attempt to get their share.
Every now & then a local fishing boat returns from sea, and the villagers--men, women, and children--walk out into the lagoon to get first dibs on the freshest of the morning's catch. Little toddlers "help" their mothers by carrying back a fish half their size, but back ashore their fish becomes a toy to play with in the dwindling pool of salt water.
It's very quiet and peaceful here; I'm not surprised this place sticks for me. Unlike San Juan del Sur, it still remains largely undeveloped in terms of infrastructure for rich foreigners and not-so-rich backpackers like me. As the scene this morning seems to indicate, the original character and ambiance of the village remains for the casual visitor to enjoy.
Major changes have already happened here, and surely there are more big changes to come. Hopefully it won't be as quick and as jarring as in other places such as Koh Samui, Thailand which was turned upside down and shaken to its foundation in less than five years.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Return to Las Peñitas Beaches
Leave it to yours truly to pick the rainiest day of the week to flee Leon for the quiet fishing village of Las Peñitas and its beaches!
I splurged on a $10 taxi to get here and splurged more on an aircon room--a treat to myself after putting up with five very muggy nights in Leon without.
The Barca de Oro, a small family-run hotel/restaurant, is staffed by friendly people, and they serve good, real coffee, not Nescafe or something worse. Everyone in the village is glued to their televisions now for the World Cup broadcasts. Prime time in South Africa is just past noon here.
The sound of the big waves is constant and similar to the sound of a jumbo jet aircraft in the distance, but much more pleasant and soothing. The rain has stopped, but you can see the cloud cover stretching across the entire Pacific horizen, so perhaps there's more to come. It doesn't matter to me very much because I'm exactly where I want to be today.
My sense is, barring a sudden crisis of boredom brought upon by lack of the usual city distractions here, a couple or three days in Las Peñitas will be good for the soul.
I splurged on a $10 taxi to get here and splurged more on an aircon room--a treat to myself after putting up with five very muggy nights in Leon without.
The Barca de Oro, a small family-run hotel/restaurant, is staffed by friendly people, and they serve good, real coffee, not Nescafe or something worse. Everyone in the village is glued to their televisions now for the World Cup broadcasts. Prime time in South Africa is just past noon here.
The sound of the big waves is constant and similar to the sound of a jumbo jet aircraft in the distance, but much more pleasant and soothing. The rain has stopped, but you can see the cloud cover stretching across the entire Pacific horizen, so perhaps there's more to come. It doesn't matter to me very much because I'm exactly where I want to be today.
My sense is, barring a sudden crisis of boredom brought upon by lack of the usual city distractions here, a couple or three days in Las Peñitas will be good for the soul.
Liking the Rainy Season for the Same Reasons I Once Hated It
I like traveling in the tropics during the rainy season which contrasts sharply with my attitude during the time I lived in Thailand in the early 1990s.
Contrary to popular belief, the rainy season doesn't mean it rains all day everyday. But often it rains toward the end of a very hot, humid day which can cool things off considerably. Even when it doesn't rain, there might be thick cloud cover which cuts the blinding glare of the tropical sun.
In Thailand I played fiddle in a Thai country music band. We worked nights, often every night of the week. In Thailand, the high season is known as the "cool" season because the weather is not too hot in the daytime, while at night it can be pleasantly cool (or "cold" as the Thais call it). The high season (November thru Februrary) was very busy and lucrative for us musicians.
In March and April comes the brutal hot season. It gets so hot that even the Thais complain about it. Temps of 100 Farenheit are not uncommon. Nighttime doesn't bring much relief.
The rainy season in Thailand is the longest season of all--May thru September or October, just as in Central America. As musicians, we still had work every night, but it was definitely the "slow" season for us, and we had much less extra work gigging on private parties, for example.
While now I enjoy the late afternoon rains here in Nicaragua, in Thailand at the time these would hit just when I getting ready for work. Since my principal mode of transport was by motorcycle, this often could be problematic for me if the timing of the rains was bad. Once I had to skip a high paying gig because I was caught in a heavy downpour, ending up completely soaked and in no condition to join my colleagues for the gig, who mostly had real cars and pickup trucks.
Now that I'm not working nights in the tropics, I really like the feel and the sound of an all night thunderstorm. It's very refreshing. And on rainy days here, often the buses are a lot less crowded, so it's easier for me to get around with my gear.
At this time of year in Central America, as in Thailand, there are fewer tourists and fewer crowds in general. Often this means that I can get discounted hotel room rates. What costs me $20 now might cost double in December or during Easter week.
Perhaps the worst thing for me about the rainy season in Thailand was simply the long, dreary length of it. Similar to the length of a Wisconsin winter, by the end of September, as I recall, I was very weary of the rains--even a little bit depressed by it.
That would make the imminent arrival of the cool season in October/November something to rejoice in and celebrate. . .
Contrary to popular belief, the rainy season doesn't mean it rains all day everyday. But often it rains toward the end of a very hot, humid day which can cool things off considerably. Even when it doesn't rain, there might be thick cloud cover which cuts the blinding glare of the tropical sun.
In Thailand I played fiddle in a Thai country music band. We worked nights, often every night of the week. In Thailand, the high season is known as the "cool" season because the weather is not too hot in the daytime, while at night it can be pleasantly cool (or "cold" as the Thais call it). The high season (November thru Februrary) was very busy and lucrative for us musicians.
In March and April comes the brutal hot season. It gets so hot that even the Thais complain about it. Temps of 100 Farenheit are not uncommon. Nighttime doesn't bring much relief.
The rainy season in Thailand is the longest season of all--May thru September or October, just as in Central America. As musicians, we still had work every night, but it was definitely the "slow" season for us, and we had much less extra work gigging on private parties, for example.
While now I enjoy the late afternoon rains here in Nicaragua, in Thailand at the time these would hit just when I getting ready for work. Since my principal mode of transport was by motorcycle, this often could be problematic for me if the timing of the rains was bad. Once I had to skip a high paying gig because I was caught in a heavy downpour, ending up completely soaked and in no condition to join my colleagues for the gig, who mostly had real cars and pickup trucks.
Now that I'm not working nights in the tropics, I really like the feel and the sound of an all night thunderstorm. It's very refreshing. And on rainy days here, often the buses are a lot less crowded, so it's easier for me to get around with my gear.
At this time of year in Central America, as in Thailand, there are fewer tourists and fewer crowds in general. Often this means that I can get discounted hotel room rates. What costs me $20 now might cost double in December or during Easter week.
Perhaps the worst thing for me about the rainy season in Thailand was simply the long, dreary length of it. Similar to the length of a Wisconsin winter, by the end of September, as I recall, I was very weary of the rains--even a little bit depressed by it.
That would make the imminent arrival of the cool season in October/November something to rejoice in and celebrate. . .
Monday, June 14, 2010
Something Out of a John LeCarre or Graham Greene Novel
Okay, I guess it's official: Leon has turned out to be "the place that sticks" for me on this trip, at least for the present moment, since tonight I'll spend my fifth night in a row here (Day 22). I'm still agnostic on returning to Las Peñitas for a couple days, but I'm definitely sure about heading out somewhere else tomorrow.
I'm staying here a bit longer not because there are tons more westerners here, including young European backpackers and American college kids, than I've seen anywhere else in three weeks.
Indeed, there are also plenty of Our Man in Havana types lurking about in the bars and cafes. Am I one of them? It reminds me of the time I returned to Bangkok after a long absence and encountered two Brits who tried to wind me up by accusing me of being a DEA narc.
There's another "quiet American" type sitting over there in the cafe where I'm writing this "dispatch," but he's drinking beer while I'm enjoying my late morning latte. He's "old school", I guess.
By my demeanor, the folks from Witness for Peace must think I'm an operative for the top secret "ABC" agency, with a direct line to the Managua station chief himself. "I'm a Suzuki violin teacher," I tell them, feeling somewhat lame as I do so. Yeah, right! That sounds like a perfect cover, or "legend", for my true purposes here. After all, why else would I be asking so many questions about the Colombian, the Venezuelan, and the Cuban legs of their fact-finding mission?
M says WfP has offical permission from the State Department to make this trip to Cuba. The organization also requires Cuban government permission--not difficult for them to get if they are as liberal as they are made out to be on the internet. "The bad thing about that is we won't be able to escape our Cuban government minders," he says. M and R both invited me to join them for the Nicaraguan leg--"There's always room for more"--but I mentioned that I knew I'd have to pay $1000 for the privilege, which they readily confirmed.
R acknowledged that WfP does make a profit from their volunteers at this $100 per day rate. "But that also includes room and board with local families, overland transport, expert guides and interpreters," she says.
We discuss the risks of traveling, as Americans, to Cuba without offical U.S. sanction. I've heard that a common route is through Cancun, where the cheapest Havana flights and Cuban visas are available at around $300 for the total package.
I remember a story about a California musician who bought old upright pianos to refurbish which he then turned around and exported to Cuba for use in the dance and music academies. Upon his return to the U.S. from one of his Cuba trips, the authorities nailed him, and the Treasury Department imposed an $8000 fine. As I recall, the musician's reaction was something along the line of "this is a situation of can't pay, so won't pay." He didn't even have enough money to hire a lawyer because all his extra money was going into second hand pianos.
M claims that if I failed to slip back into America from Cuba without the authorities noticing, and if Treasury were to hit me with a big fine, then the ACLU would take my case. "And they've never lost a case," he says. I don't know how accurate this information is, but it's an interesting question: Is full liberty to travel, where and when you please, without government interference, a First Amendment right? How ironic that Washington demanded the end of all Iron Curtain travel restrictions at the height of the Cold War, yet today retains its own anachronistic restrictions.
It seems that this 50 year-old Washington anti-Cuba policy serves no one except a small but vocal constituency in Florida. This policy does not benefit the U.S.A., and it doesn't prevent the Cuban government from doing exactly what it wants.
These economic embargo policies really have only losers: both the American and Cuban peoples. Cubans miss out on the economic benefits of free trade with the U.S. And Americans miss out on the many cultural benefits of Cuban arts, music, dance, food etc. In other words, the good stuff.
But beyond all that, in the 21st century, isn't it time to end all passport restrictions for Americans? Currently, even this "minor" restriction vis-a-vis Cuba seems just a bit. . .well, unAmerican.
I'm staying here a bit longer not because there are tons more westerners here, including young European backpackers and American college kids, than I've seen anywhere else in three weeks.
Indeed, there are also plenty of Our Man in Havana types lurking about in the bars and cafes. Am I one of them? It reminds me of the time I returned to Bangkok after a long absence and encountered two Brits who tried to wind me up by accusing me of being a DEA narc.
There's another "quiet American" type sitting over there in the cafe where I'm writing this "dispatch," but he's drinking beer while I'm enjoying my late morning latte. He's "old school", I guess.
By my demeanor, the folks from Witness for Peace must think I'm an operative for the top secret "ABC" agency, with a direct line to the Managua station chief himself. "I'm a Suzuki violin teacher," I tell them, feeling somewhat lame as I do so. Yeah, right! That sounds like a perfect cover, or "legend", for my true purposes here. After all, why else would I be asking so many questions about the Colombian, the Venezuelan, and the Cuban legs of their fact-finding mission?
M says WfP has offical permission from the State Department to make this trip to Cuba. The organization also requires Cuban government permission--not difficult for them to get if they are as liberal as they are made out to be on the internet. "The bad thing about that is we won't be able to escape our Cuban government minders," he says. M and R both invited me to join them for the Nicaraguan leg--"There's always room for more"--but I mentioned that I knew I'd have to pay $1000 for the privilege, which they readily confirmed.
R acknowledged that WfP does make a profit from their volunteers at this $100 per day rate. "But that also includes room and board with local families, overland transport, expert guides and interpreters," she says.
We discuss the risks of traveling, as Americans, to Cuba without offical U.S. sanction. I've heard that a common route is through Cancun, where the cheapest Havana flights and Cuban visas are available at around $300 for the total package.
I remember a story about a California musician who bought old upright pianos to refurbish which he then turned around and exported to Cuba for use in the dance and music academies. Upon his return to the U.S. from one of his Cuba trips, the authorities nailed him, and the Treasury Department imposed an $8000 fine. As I recall, the musician's reaction was something along the line of "this is a situation of can't pay, so won't pay." He didn't even have enough money to hire a lawyer because all his extra money was going into second hand pianos.
M claims that if I failed to slip back into America from Cuba without the authorities noticing, and if Treasury were to hit me with a big fine, then the ACLU would take my case. "And they've never lost a case," he says. I don't know how accurate this information is, but it's an interesting question: Is full liberty to travel, where and when you please, without government interference, a First Amendment right? How ironic that Washington demanded the end of all Iron Curtain travel restrictions at the height of the Cold War, yet today retains its own anachronistic restrictions.
It seems that this 50 year-old Washington anti-Cuba policy serves no one except a small but vocal constituency in Florida. This policy does not benefit the U.S.A., and it doesn't prevent the Cuban government from doing exactly what it wants.
These economic embargo policies really have only losers: both the American and Cuban peoples. Cubans miss out on the economic benefits of free trade with the U.S. And Americans miss out on the many cultural benefits of Cuban arts, music, dance, food etc. In other words, the good stuff.
But beyond all that, in the 21st century, isn't it time to end all passport restrictions for Americans? Currently, even this "minor" restriction vis-a-vis Cuba seems just a bit. . .well, unAmerican.
Willy: A Typical Upper Class Nica Teen?
Last night the rains came in again heavy at around 4 p.m. which more or less restricted me to my immediate block. Hanging out in front of our hotel were M from WfP, a couple security guards from across the street, and Willy, a kid from the neighborhood. His family's shophouse is just three doors down the block.
Grabbing an opportunity to practice his pre-Twinkle level English, Willy engaged both M & I in a spirited discussion of all things Nicaraguan and American--including his circle's favorite rap musicians (Snoop & Dr Dre), clothes, pastimes & so on.
Grabbing my opportunity to practice my pre-Twinkle level Spanish, I learned that his family is actually Cuban on his mother's side, but that he grew up in Leon. His family business makes metal plaques for other homes & businesses, but also busts & stylized pictures of Sandinista heros & other icons from Nicaragua's history. The shop does very high quality work.
Willy, 17 years old, is still a high school student, but also works for the family business. He plans to attend university in two years. He told me the family's shophouse is valued at $80,000 (very cheap, he said) but when I joked that I didn't have that kind of money lying around, he quickly assured me "it's not for sale." If his shop house was in America it would be worth a million dollars, he said: "Twenty million cordobas! Mucho dinero. . ."
He has traveled to the U.S. a couple times (he has relatives there), and he was struck by the differences between homeless people in the two countries. "The American homeless are very crazy--they'll do anything. There are a lot of crazy people in estados unidos."
The very little English Willy had seemed to come partly from Afro-American culture with a lot of "whassup" and "you feel me?" But this kid was so energetic and engaging, it was no problem at all catching his meaning. He talked about how he likes Nicaragua's "natural life (style)" but that he prefers foreign girlfriends (from other Latin American countries). "My girlfriend now is from (El) Salvador."
Willy admired M for using some of his retirement time to volunteer for an organization in Nicaragua. And he seemed to appreciate my efforts to listen and commnicate with a typical middle to upper middle class Nicaraguan teenager.
Grabbing an opportunity to practice his pre-Twinkle level English, Willy engaged both M & I in a spirited discussion of all things Nicaraguan and American--including his circle's favorite rap musicians (Snoop & Dr Dre), clothes, pastimes & so on.
Grabbing my opportunity to practice my pre-Twinkle level Spanish, I learned that his family is actually Cuban on his mother's side, but that he grew up in Leon. His family business makes metal plaques for other homes & businesses, but also busts & stylized pictures of Sandinista heros & other icons from Nicaragua's history. The shop does very high quality work.
Willy, 17 years old, is still a high school student, but also works for the family business. He plans to attend university in two years. He told me the family's shophouse is valued at $80,000 (very cheap, he said) but when I joked that I didn't have that kind of money lying around, he quickly assured me "it's not for sale." If his shop house was in America it would be worth a million dollars, he said: "Twenty million cordobas! Mucho dinero. . ."
He has traveled to the U.S. a couple times (he has relatives there), and he was struck by the differences between homeless people in the two countries. "The American homeless are very crazy--they'll do anything. There are a lot of crazy people in estados unidos."
The very little English Willy had seemed to come partly from Afro-American culture with a lot of "whassup" and "you feel me?" But this kid was so energetic and engaging, it was no problem at all catching his meaning. He talked about how he likes Nicaragua's "natural life (style)" but that he prefers foreign girlfriends (from other Latin American countries). "My girlfriend now is from (El) Salvador."
Willy admired M for using some of his retirement time to volunteer for an organization in Nicaragua. And he seemed to appreciate my efforts to listen and commnicate with a typical middle to upper middle class Nicaraguan teenager.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Americans Abroad as "Witnesses for Peace"
My first night at the Casona Colonial I had the entire hotel to myself, but last night more visitors moved in. This morning I met them, a trio of Americans from Duluth, MN and Superior, WI who are on a volunteering mission for an organization called Witness for Peace. You can check out their website linked to the right. I've also added Wikipedia's controversial articles about the organization, which supposedly is very pro-Sandinista.
The man, who I will call M, is a retired academic, and he told me they are part of delegation that will tour various agricultural regions in Nicaragua to assess the impact of NAFTA & CAFTA on the economies here & in other countries like Colombia & Venezuela. M is traveling with R, a woman--also an academic from University of Wisconsin. And a third younger woman is also traveling with them for part of their journey.
I visited WfP's website and checked out the page about the Nicaragua delegation. It appears to be another one of those deals where you pay big bucks to "volunteer." It's not a bad thing, I don't mean that, but $1000 plus airfare for a ten day mission strikes me as a little dear, at least for me personally.
At some point in the future, I might want to do some "volunteer travel." It seems to be not such a bad way to put in some time, somewhere, for a good cause, to try to do one's part for the bigger picture, and so forth. But I'd prefer to sign on with some organization that doesn't require me to pony up the thousands of bucks some of them ask for. I can see giving either my money, or giving my time (and paying for my expenses as I do so). But I can't quite bring myself to give just a little bit of my time and a lotta bit of my money, both.
The man, who I will call M, is a retired academic, and he told me they are part of delegation that will tour various agricultural regions in Nicaragua to assess the impact of NAFTA & CAFTA on the economies here & in other countries like Colombia & Venezuela. M is traveling with R, a woman--also an academic from University of Wisconsin. And a third younger woman is also traveling with them for part of their journey.
I visited WfP's website and checked out the page about the Nicaragua delegation. It appears to be another one of those deals where you pay big bucks to "volunteer." It's not a bad thing, I don't mean that, but $1000 plus airfare for a ten day mission strikes me as a little dear, at least for me personally.
At some point in the future, I might want to do some "volunteer travel." It seems to be not such a bad way to put in some time, somewhere, for a good cause, to try to do one's part for the bigger picture, and so forth. But I'd prefer to sign on with some organization that doesn't require me to pony up the thousands of bucks some of them ask for. I can see giving either my money, or giving my time (and paying for my expenses as I do so). But I can't quite bring myself to give just a little bit of my time and a lotta bit of my money, both.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Daytripping to Poneloya & Las Peñitas Beaches
The Pacific Ocean is a mere 12 miles from Leon so this morning I hopped on a bus full of Nicaraguan daytrippers (and more than a couple westerners) to visit the beachside communities of Poneloya & La Peñitas.
The main problem with beaches in this part of the world is that private property development blocks off almost all access to the beach. This is very nice for the people who own houses there but not so nice for the casual visitor like me. I spent 90 minutes walking a couple miles this morning trying to find my way in.
For sale/for rent signs abound. Beautiful, huge mansions sit on lots next to totally ruined shacks while there are occasional parcels of vacant land. The Lonely Planet blames foreigners for driving up local housing & land costs.
I had a taste of this affect when I was informed, to my shock, that the rate for my chosen hotel room (with AC) has doubled to $50 per night. At 11.00 a.m. it was 93 degrees Farenheit in the shade, so AC seems necessary, but these rooms didn't really seem worth the cost. However the beachside restaurant looked clean & professional and featured $10 fish dinners on the menu.
I'm not really a beach bum type, though I identify with the surfer crowd which hangs out here. Like mountaineers, ski bums & yacht crew, they're the type who work seasonal jobs at home to pay for trips to cool places abroad.
Although Poneloya & Las Peñitas are fairly sizeable, there's not much commerce happening apart from the hotel/restaurant biz. I found only one cyber cafe and only a couple basic ma & pa corner stores. And there was no sign of any good coffee even at the $50 per night joint, so maybe an overnight there isn't worth it for me. Just give me the cooler, higher ground with all my creature comforts & a few really old churches.
But I'm very impressed with the relaxed security situation. Unlike in El Salvador or Honduras, these private dwellings and scattered businesses on the Pacific didn't sport much of the usual tall, intimidating walls & gates topped with razor wire or electric fencing. And I didn't see even one armed guard anywhere!
Check back tomorrow to see if I decide to return to Las Peñitas for a day or two anyway. . .
The main problem with beaches in this part of the world is that private property development blocks off almost all access to the beach. This is very nice for the people who own houses there but not so nice for the casual visitor like me. I spent 90 minutes walking a couple miles this morning trying to find my way in.
For sale/for rent signs abound. Beautiful, huge mansions sit on lots next to totally ruined shacks while there are occasional parcels of vacant land. The Lonely Planet blames foreigners for driving up local housing & land costs.
I had a taste of this affect when I was informed, to my shock, that the rate for my chosen hotel room (with AC) has doubled to $50 per night. At 11.00 a.m. it was 93 degrees Farenheit in the shade, so AC seems necessary, but these rooms didn't really seem worth the cost. However the beachside restaurant looked clean & professional and featured $10 fish dinners on the menu.
I'm not really a beach bum type, though I identify with the surfer crowd which hangs out here. Like mountaineers, ski bums & yacht crew, they're the type who work seasonal jobs at home to pay for trips to cool places abroad.
Although Poneloya & Las Peñitas are fairly sizeable, there's not much commerce happening apart from the hotel/restaurant biz. I found only one cyber cafe and only a couple basic ma & pa corner stores. And there was no sign of any good coffee even at the $50 per night joint, so maybe an overnight there isn't worth it for me. Just give me the cooler, higher ground with all my creature comforts & a few really old churches.
But I'm very impressed with the relaxed security situation. Unlike in El Salvador or Honduras, these private dwellings and scattered businesses on the Pacific didn't sport much of the usual tall, intimidating walls & gates topped with razor wire or electric fencing. And I didn't see even one armed guard anywhere!
Check back tomorrow to see if I decide to return to Las Peñitas for a day or two anyway. . .
Friday, June 11, 2010
An Economy Roars Back To Life
Last night I read My Car in Managua (1991), a book by an American sympathizer of the FSLN--popularly known as the Sandinistas--who worked for an aid mission in 1980s Managua. He paints a very frank picture of how the post-revolutionary FSLN completely messed up the national economy with failed socialist policies, a lack of work incentives, and a hyperinflation that impoverished everyone and drove the most skilled and talented people to other countries.
Today it's clear that in the 20 years since the opposition came to power by election, the economy has roared back to life with the cordoba--Nicaragua's currency--stabilizing at 20 or 21 per dollar, and there are signs of a dynamic economic life everywhere in towns and cities such as Leon and Granada.
Even with the FSLN having returned to power in the past decade and with controversial, albeit popular, president and former commandante Daniel Ortega up for reelection in 2012, this economic activity appears to continue at a healthy pace.
Contrast this to the situation in El Salvador where there appears to be plenty of economic activity but perhaps not of the sort that can grow the economy over the long term. Acording to my trusty Lonely Planet guide, a big chunk of El Salvador's GDP comes from remittances sent from abroad, principally the USA, and of that amount it's estimated that up to 80% is spent on consumption--basically for paying bills and buying groceries. The LP writer speculates that by such dependence upon friends and family working abroad for their daily living expenses, Salvadoreans have created a sort of "welfare" economy that cannot grow over time.
Today it's clear that in the 20 years since the opposition came to power by election, the economy has roared back to life with the cordoba--Nicaragua's currency--stabilizing at 20 or 21 per dollar, and there are signs of a dynamic economic life everywhere in towns and cities such as Leon and Granada.
Even with the FSLN having returned to power in the past decade and with controversial, albeit popular, president and former commandante Daniel Ortega up for reelection in 2012, this economic activity appears to continue at a healthy pace.
Contrast this to the situation in El Salvador where there appears to be plenty of economic activity but perhaps not of the sort that can grow the economy over the long term. Acording to my trusty Lonely Planet guide, a big chunk of El Salvador's GDP comes from remittances sent from abroad, principally the USA, and of that amount it's estimated that up to 80% is spent on consumption--basically for paying bills and buying groceries. The LP writer speculates that by such dependence upon friends and family working abroad for their daily living expenses, Salvadoreans have created a sort of "welfare" economy that cannot grow over time.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Nica´s One of My Favorites
Leon is a premier destination for me on this trip, but I gotta admit that Nicaragua itself is a prime destination for me.
With all due respect to my Costa Rican Suzuki mother and her beautiful country and people, I have to declare that Nicaragua might be my favorite Central American country. However, I´m not sure I can explain why. There´s something about it I immediately notice once I´m past the formalities and on a bus moving toward my destination, but as I write this I´m still trying to put my finger on it.
It´s not only that Nicaragua, compared to Guatemala, El Salvador, or Honduras, seems so much less menacing, though that truly seems to be the case. Lonely Planet claims El Salvador has 16,000 shotgun-toting private security guards, and it´s clear that Nicaragua is not nearly as obsessed with basic security as the other countries I´ve mentioned.
And like the others, in Nicaragua there is poverty, broken infrastructure and the usual political conflict and controversy.
Yet it seems that Nicaragua has better tourist facilities and more features for ordinary joes like me. For example, I love a good cup of coffee, and El Salvador was almost completely horrible for getting one. Nearly every day last week I struggled in the morning just to feel awake with the muddy water that passes for coffee in that country. But in Leon I´ve counted at least three espresso shops so far and I´m sure there are more. The infrastructure here is already set up to get me moving on a daily basis.
In El Salvador at least so far there are very few entrepreneurs stepping up to provide guiding and other services to places like Volcan de San Miguel. As the Lonely Planet points out, if you want to go there you have to do all the legwork yourself. But here in Leon, there are plenty of businesses geared toward meeting the needs of the foreign visitor.
I´m not saying that espresso shops or guide services make it for me. El Salvador is a fascinating place with very hardworking people who generally are quite welcoming to foreigners, and I still want to swing back there to visit Perquin on my way back north. But I gotta say the Salvadoreans have a lousy cup of coffee, and after 10 days that´s wearing for me, on top of all the usual chores I have to do just to get around and be around in safety.
Here in Leon and other Nicaraguan towns I feel there are many people in a nascent tourist industry who care about what I need, about where I want to go, and about how I might get there. At the same time the local scene isn´t spoiled to the point where the visitor feels any pressure to kick up bucks to an industry. Most importantly, the security situation here doesn´t feel nearly as ¨edgy¨ as in other places in the region. Altogether that´s a most basic definition of hospitality, and my impression is the Nicaraguans have it in spades.
With all due respect to my Costa Rican Suzuki mother and her beautiful country and people, I have to declare that Nicaragua might be my favorite Central American country. However, I´m not sure I can explain why. There´s something about it I immediately notice once I´m past the formalities and on a bus moving toward my destination, but as I write this I´m still trying to put my finger on it.
It´s not only that Nicaragua, compared to Guatemala, El Salvador, or Honduras, seems so much less menacing, though that truly seems to be the case. Lonely Planet claims El Salvador has 16,000 shotgun-toting private security guards, and it´s clear that Nicaragua is not nearly as obsessed with basic security as the other countries I´ve mentioned.
And like the others, in Nicaragua there is poverty, broken infrastructure and the usual political conflict and controversy.
Yet it seems that Nicaragua has better tourist facilities and more features for ordinary joes like me. For example, I love a good cup of coffee, and El Salvador was almost completely horrible for getting one. Nearly every day last week I struggled in the morning just to feel awake with the muddy water that passes for coffee in that country. But in Leon I´ve counted at least three espresso shops so far and I´m sure there are more. The infrastructure here is already set up to get me moving on a daily basis.
In El Salvador at least so far there are very few entrepreneurs stepping up to provide guiding and other services to places like Volcan de San Miguel. As the Lonely Planet points out, if you want to go there you have to do all the legwork yourself. But here in Leon, there are plenty of businesses geared toward meeting the needs of the foreign visitor.
I´m not saying that espresso shops or guide services make it for me. El Salvador is a fascinating place with very hardworking people who generally are quite welcoming to foreigners, and I still want to swing back there to visit Perquin on my way back north. But I gotta say the Salvadoreans have a lousy cup of coffee, and after 10 days that´s wearing for me, on top of all the usual chores I have to do just to get around and be around in safety.
Here in Leon and other Nicaraguan towns I feel there are many people in a nascent tourist industry who care about what I need, about where I want to go, and about how I might get there. At the same time the local scene isn´t spoiled to the point where the visitor feels any pressure to kick up bucks to an industry. Most importantly, the security situation here doesn´t feel nearly as ¨edgy¨ as in other places in the region. Altogether that´s a most basic definition of hospitality, and my impression is the Nicaraguans have it in spades.
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