Central American Snippets: Transportation

In a previous entry, I had talked a little about the over-crowded minivan that I took in Guatemala. I feel like I should explain a little more about the adventure that awaits every time you try and take public transportation, because it IS an adventure.


(standing in the aisle: age and sex are irrelevant, timing is everything)

Although the exact details of the transportation varies from country to country, I'll do my best to give you a basic understanding of what it's like getting around.

The smallest trip anywhere, when taking local transportation, can take you all day. Here in Nicaragua, with the schedule-less microbus system, things have been a little easier, but it's still always a challenge. I say schedule-less, but it's a little more ordered than that: microbusses, which are really just minivans, leave whenever they fill up. And that's pretty often, because getting around is necessary and cheap. You can take a microbus for an hour and pay between $1 and $2.

The microbusses are the faster, more expensive option. For a few cordobas less (Nicaraguan currency), you can take a far slower and more adventurous local bus. Here, as everywhere else south of Mexico, the busses are old school busses, privately owned and operated.

I almost never check bus schedules. Why? Well, unless I'm going a long way, the information, if you can access it, will almost certainly be wrong. And it will be different from each person you ask, or sign you see... all that you can assume is that it's probably not accurate. In the end, I figure I save time and frustration by not going to the station in advance and trying to track down the correct information, and just going and waiting for a bus to leave toward where I'm going. And always, this works out.

Luggage, that's a whole other issue. The microbusses are hit and miss for luggage storage. Sometimes they'll throw it on the roof. If you're lucky they'll tie it down. And if you're REALLY lucky, like, winning the lottery kind of lucky, they'll throw a tarp over it to protect your gear from rain. The other half of the time, you and your bags are crammed in with the other 14 passengers, sometimes it's behind the seat, sometimes it's in the precious space allocated for your legroom, and sometimes, it's on your lap. And that's just the way it is, so people smilingly accept it.


(bed on a bus)


With the local busses, it's a great transport system. They take your cargo, whatever it is, and hike it up onto the roof. I've seen guys carry 100 pound sacks of rice up the bus ladder, balanced on the back of their necks, and chuck it on top like it's nothing. Amazing. And they'll take anything. ANYTHING. So with our bags, although I initially felt a little guilty about the weight, until I realized that our bags are like feathers, perfectly packaged feathers.

Other local modes of transportation include...



(horse and carriage: something you see here, and don't even flinch)

...and the ever popular...

[pictures to come... on a DVD]
(two person bike!)


Of course, there are cars, trucks, and motorbikes all over the place too...


I thought I'd mention one of my least favourite things about Central America in this section also, even though it's not directly related to getting around.

Garbage disposal.

It's disgusting. Look at this photo that I took at the "bus station" (where all the buses park on the side of the road in the market) the other day:


(note that there IS an almost empty garbage can)

This is unbelievably common. There is just no social consciousness when it comes to pollution and littering here. None. When you finish something -- plastic, rubber, styrofoam, glass, whatever -- all you do is drop it, or pitch it out the window if you're in a vehicle. It's the norm. And it's sad, because you see the littlest of kids see their parents doing it, and then you see them turning around and do it. Okay, this is a small problem relative to some of the other problems here, but one that's so easy to fix. But alas, that would take public education, and government funding, and I'm pretty sure that it's not way up there on the 'to do' list.

Central American Snippets: The Weather

As previously promised, a few more snippets from "daily life" in Central America.

The Weather

Right now, it's the rainy season. It has been for more months than I can remember. Although what exactly that means varies from location to location, depending on various factors like proximity to the ocean, latitude and altitude (among others I'm sure, I'm no weatherologist), I can give you a general approximation of what that means.


(that's two kids, playing in the rain coming off the roof)

It means that it rains. A lot. And it means that you sweat. A lot. During the days, I never stop sweating. Thanks partially to the hairshirt I wear, and partially because the relative humidity is never less than a million units of humidity. And all that humidity builds up and up until the sky releases. Sometimes it rains all day, but those days are very rare. If it does rain during the day, it's usually a quick downpour. Most of the time it rains in the late afternoon and/or overnight, which is great because it cools down, but doesn't stop you from enjoying the days. This was the case all through southern Guatemala and El Salvador, and for the most part, here in Nicaragua. Although sometimes, the rain just blows in with very little warning. And HOW it blows in! Full force! Within minutes there will be rivers or ruts in the roads, and the dry will be a distant memory. The duration varies, but is usually about 20 minutes to an hour, and then it passes by.


(sometimes is rains)


(and sometimes, you're not ready for it)

My full moons on this trip have been fairly spectacular events. This one was no exception, and I'll mention it here because it was highlighted by the weather. I spent this full moon playing guitar in my cabana on a deserted beach in northern Nicaragua, in the middle of the biggest thunder and lightning storm I've ever witnessed. It was a prototypical day on the beach: beautiful clear skies all day, a spectacular sunset over the ocean, and a WILD thunderstorm at night. The lightning and thunder were observable almost at the same time, with the flash and the crash lighting up the sky and shaking the ground all around us. This is something I won't forget for a while.

My Nicaraguan experience

(welcome to Nicaragua)

I've been in Nicaragua for almost two weeks now, and I've got to say, the experience hasn't been the greatest of all the countries so far. In fact, I' d go so far as to say it's been my least favourite Central American country so far. There are a number of reasons for that:

• I've been injured and doing rehab.
• The people.
• Expectations.

I left El Salvador with injured knees from my body surfing mishap. Your body and mind are so inter-related, whenever one is out of balance, the other is surely going to be also. So, I must admit that my temperment has not been the best, and the glasses that I've been watching the world from here have been a little injured. I have gone to physiotherapy in the two towns in Nicaragua that I've been to that have physiotherapists. The quality of the treatment has been a little suspect. The first doctor I went to was a little 70 year old man who, without personal assessment, went straight to his generic "knee problems" sheet, and gave me some generic exercises. Ohhhhkay. They actually did help. The second doctor, God save him, again without personal assessment, gave me some generic physio, a massage, and a spinal adjustment (who was also a chiropractor). Thank you sir, but I've never had such bad back pain in my life, and have been bed-ridden for four days. Right, so this has obviously affected things.

Secondly, the people here are not nearly as polite as other places I've visited. This came as a big shock, given the fact that all the traveller's that I'd met had said Nicaraguans are such hospitable and nice people. Well, so far, I've been lied to, stolen from, cheated, and treated like a money object constantly. A few times I've been asking simple questions, like, "what's this food made of?" or "where does this bus go?" and just been completely ignored and looked at with disgust, like I should just know. Weird. Maybe they don't like bearded people.

And clearly, I can't overlook the roll of expectations in my disappointment. I expected great things from Nicaragua. People have been talking about it so highly: the people, the scenery, the culture. I suspect most of those people did a lot of drugs, or came from places I never want to visit. With grand expectations, come grand disappointments. Having arrived from El Salvador, which was such an amazing experience, Nicaragua had big shoes to fill, and little feet.

Of course, even though the experience hasn't been the best, it hasn't totally been the shits either. There are always silver linings on dark clouds.



I've made my way from the northern border with Hondurus, down the West coastal region, to Granada.

I spent a few days in the north, in Esteli, a city that was a stronghold for the revolutionary group, the FLSN (aka the Sandinistas), that overthrew the Somosa dictatorship in the late 1970s. I could feel a certain coldness and tension in the people up there. The war and it's realities is not so far removed from the people. Check out the waterfall near Esteli, it was one of the highlights (not so much because of the waterfall, but because of the really great people we met there).



(A waterfall near Esteli, in the north)

From Esteli we headed south to Leon, one of the two old colonial jewels of Nicaragua. It was touristy. Coming from El Salvador and northern Nicaragua, this was quite a shock. There were white people everywhere, and with them, the generic white-person treatment you get from the locals who deal with the tourists every day. But Leon itself is quite a nice city. It is a city of art and culture, with a mix of the old and the new everywhere you look. It had a number of beautiful murals, some so big that I couldn't capture them with my camera.


(mural numero uno, the full length of a basketball court)


(mural numero dos -- Leon is Culture)


(mural numero tres: Bush Genocide, Enemy of Humanity, Death to the Imperial Invader)


(Leon: bike shops are a common site in the markets)

From Leon, we took a day trip out to San Jacinto, famous for it's bubbling mud pits. When we arrived, every kid in the town was there to greet us and offer there guide services. It's pretty cute when a 4 year old kid is touting his professional guide service. Unfortunately, we didn't have any money to give them for tips, so we walked into the mouth of the dragon alone, with them yelling warnings of great grave danger behind us.



(boiling mud pits of death and destruction)

At one point, a little girl ran up to me because I was getting too close to the soft spots in the ground. She told me that just recently a cow had fallen into the pit beside me, and died. After learning I didn't have any money, she quickly made her exit.


(cow killers)

From Leon, we wanted a break from it all (that being the Gringo Trail -- all of the places you can find in the Lonely Planet guide book), so we headed up the coast for a few days to Jicalillo. We'd seen an advertisement in a hostel for a place owned and operated by a Californian woman that wasn't advertised in the LP, touting and empty beach with "nothing to do". She sounded like a hippy. Hippy gold. Was I ever right, dude man guy. But she was absolutely lovely, as was her place. There were only a few people, and the locals were not overly touristed and were lots of fun and happy to have us there. This is where we watched the full-moon thunderstorm.


(our shell-filled deserted beach)


(only us)


(okay, not ONLY us)

We didn't have much to do but read, enjoy the water and the beach and watch the sunsets. With the thunderstorms at night, there wasn't electricity (how ironic). But that was no problem, we just lit candles, and enjoyed the shows.


(I love the big skies)


(admiring a sunset)

From Rancho Tranquilo, we headed for the other colonial jewel of Nicaragua, Granada. And I thought Leon was touristy! This place is probably tied for the most touristy city I've seen on my trip, with Antigua, Guatemala! Very picturesque, it's a nice place to stroll around and take in the architecture, or walk through a bustling market. This place has an unbelievable number of Westernised eateries, to cater to tourists. It's actually been tricky finding a place where locals go to eat!



(Granada, from the church bell tower)


(God loves a nice sunset)

When my back is good enough, we're outta here. We're heading for a less touristy area, and apparently one of the most beautiful spots in Nicaragua: Isla de Ometepe.

So Long El Salvador

("The Thinker" -- see rest of the entry for what I was thinking about)

Now that I've got your attention....

I just realized that I haven't really painted a picture of some of the daily things that I've been experiencing here in Latin America, so I thought that I would just share a little more of the everyday. As this entry is going to be dedicated to the end of my time in El Salvador, I thought I'd start with the role of Christ.

El Salvador, literally means "The Savior." Not unlike every other Latin American country that I've visited, Jesus is everywhere. I'm told he's coming, by at least 20 bumper stickers a day (up to 1000 if I'm in a city). I'm told he's already here by another 20. He's in the doctor's office, hanging out on the cross. He's there to greet me as I get on the bus, and keeps me comforted my whole trip with the big bold lettered sign at the front of every bus. He's in every shop, house, and local place in the country. Jesus really is everywhere here.

Okay, enough about Christ. Perhaps at another time, I'll throw up a few entries dedicated to transportation, and food. But for now, here's the time between.

After leaving the beach, my travelling partner Jenny and I headed toward the El Salvador-Hondurus border (you have to cross through Hondurus to get to Nicaragua), planning on visiting a few towns in eastern El Salvador before leaving the country. So, on a Friday morning, we set out after saying our goodbye's to our wonderful host family.



(San Vicente is a little unspectacular town)

Four busses later, just after the light gave way to the dark, we arrived in a small town called St. Vicente. It's a pretty dreary little town, where not much happens, ever. We were the only tourists in the entire town. There was no real tourism infrastructure, and we ended up staying in a rickety old hotel where the water worked once in a while. Other than wandering around town, and strolling through the mediocre market, and enjoying the trees, there wasn't much to do.


(nature: 1 humans: 0)

That is, unless you sit beside drunk kids on the bus who tell you about a party happening just one town over.

It turns out that a town only about 30 minutes by bus away was having their equivalent of a country fair. It was fully decked out with a parade....



(parade! in Telecoluca)


(nice drums)

With a lot of security (this is so typical in El Salvador, I mean, this guy could've just as easily been photographed guarding the electronics store, or local fried chicken shop, no joke)...


(nice guns)


Which sported many fine costumes...



(a couple of clowns)


(some things never change)


(nice guns)

After the parade, some of the stilted members of the parade put on a little show in the town center.


(Christ is coming, they aren't clowning around)

At which point, we decided to try our luck on the rides.


(zoom in and look carefully at the supports that are holding up the feet of this ride)

Now, I've always been a fan of roller coasters and theme parks. From the Madoc fair, to Wonderland and beyond, I've tried them all. This, was different. There was one point where I was actually scared. See, when you're screaming around Top Gun, or flying down Drop Zone, yes, there's a little part of you that's crapping your pants. But it's not more than a turtle head because you know that there are ridiculous safety precautions taken and teams of the finest roller coaster scientists behind the ride. Here, in El Salvador, it's a little different. I'm not sure about the saftey precautions. I have a feeling they're something along the lines of "if it ain't broke, don't fix it." This was occurring to me (and to Jenny too, man I wish I had a picture of her face when we were rocking over 180 degrees front to back being supported by only a tiny little bar across our wastes) as we were flying around the ferris wheel. Then I pictured the footing of the ride, and decided that this could be my time to die. It wouldn't have been that bad, I probably would've been nominated for a Darwin Award.


(view from the rickey-ass ferris wheel)

After narrowly escaping a gruesome ferris-wheel death and two nights in St. Vicente, we headed further east to a beautiful little town way up in the mountains, Alegría.


(view from the lookout point in Alegría)

This picturesque town was really beautiful, if a little more touristy. We actually saw another white person here. We quickly changed hotels.

One of the main attractions of this town (which is a weekend destination for people from San Salvador or San Miguel, big towns a few hours on either side) is the volcanic crater lake. We strolled up there one day, buying and eating some of the most delicious oranges I've ever had along the way.



(the walk back from the crater lake)

They say the water has magical healing properties. I say it is cold.



(Right Said Fred ain't got nada on Jon Booze -- I'm too sexy for this shirt, in the crater lake)


A few nights in Alegría and then we headed further east and to the north to the town of Perquín. It had been raved about by another traveller, so we thought it was worth stopping in at. But we didn't have exactly a normal Perquín experience. We found out on the bus on the way up that we were about to arrive in Perquín's biggest festival of the year, the winter festival. Advertised to us as a tranquil little natural paradise, we found ourselves immersed amongst artisans selling their wares, food stalls, trinquet hawkers, and live music. So, we just took it all in at night, and went on a day trip during the day we were there.



(serpent donuts)



(enjoying a sundown in Perquin, before being eaten alive by flying sharks)

The day-trip we took was to a town called El Mozote. I will not turn this into a history lesson, but what we saw there needs to be talked about. This town was a stronghold for the people's revolutionary army, the FMLN, who were fighting against the US-sponsored government's oppression. Well, the government didn't like this group very much, so they decided to go into this little village and kill people indiscriminantly.

Everybody.

It was mostly women and children. All in all, they killed over 1000 people here. And this was in 1981. And then they blew the whole thing up with 500 pound bombs. Well, in 1991 after the government had been changed, they rebuilt the town in memory of those people.



(the rebuilt church and monument for the children, look at the bottom of the wall, it's the names of the kids that were massacred)

After that depressingly real tour, we needed to go swimming, so we hitched a ride to the river and got refreshed. We had a lot to think about.



(Río sapa, or something like that)

After two nights in Perquín, we were heading for the Hondurus border to cross through into Nicaragua. We were hungry, and there was a woman selling sweet bread beside the bus, so we got some. As with everything here, even eating the bread was a bit of an adventure.


(added protein)

Although things didn't go quite as planned on our journey from El Salvador to Nicaragua (and it ended up taking 3 days to get to where we thought we could get to in 1), it was really a good opportunity for learning. The most growth that you do when travelling is when things are not going smoothly. You have a chance to learn to just accept things as they are, and not as you want them to be. After wanted to smash an orange against a building in frustration (after two insanely hot days of travel, missing bus connection after bus connection, being hungry, dehydrated and tired, not being able to access any money despite having 3 methods of withdrawl, etc.), I managed to regain my cool and just accept what was happening.

And now, Nicaragua.

Surfin' El Salvador

(enjoying the life)

Upon realizing that there is no such thing as a "complete man" that doesn't know how to surf, my fine compadre Blackjack and I packed our bags, and headed for the world famous break in El Salvador. We heard there was a sick right-handed break at playa El Sunzal, so we figured we'd bust some curves on it. Or at least, we'd learn to get down with the lingo. And plus, I already have the hair and the guitar and a few days in Puerto Escondido. Taking my hard-earned Puerto experience with me (wear a rash-guard, save your nipples), I headed for the surf. I mean, seriously, how hard can this "surfing" thing be?

(typical situation)

Right, anyway, onward ho. We rented some boards and hired a teacher for a lesson. Seemed like a reasonable thing to do on the first day. We got our massive longboards and paddled out to the break, which is an unreasonable distance from the shore. God really overcompensated on that one, but I just looked at it as an opportunity to get even more buff (I know, you're probably thinking "no WAY, more buff? ya RIGHT.", but oh ya baby, it's true). In comes the first wave - my heart is pounding with excitement, I can't wait to show the babes what true man is made of. I'm a wee bit nervous, as I can see that there's another surfer coming on it, but my teacher insists and I paddle like my life depends on it. That is, until the other surfer was inches away from me, at which point I decided to flip the board and protect myself. Whack! I feel his board graze off my head and then smash into my board. Shit son! That was close! The teacher came and we made sure that all was well, and nobody was hurt. Then as we were swimming away, we noticed that part of my fin was stuck in his board. Ding dong! Shucks. Ah well, that's the life of the board.

(more punishment or not, that is the question)

And when you get knocked off a board, you just get right back on, right? Right. So up and at it, and I was standing on the second wave. Puuuurrrrrrrr.


(cutting the wave, baby!)

("is that Patrick Swayze?!")


After our first day in El Sunzal, the crew from the full moon hike in Guatemala came to join us for some surfing fun. Awesome! Re-united crew! We surfed every other day, for the first week we were there.



(re-union!)

When we weren't surfing, we were either drinking licuados (or beers) in a bar on the beach, or doing some serious body surfing.


("Jon, there's too much backlighting"... "no there's not, look, I'll just cover it up")

And body surfing, is the sport of champions. Just you and the wave, man vs. nature. This was all fun and good, until the waves decided to get all "Point Break" on our asses. I still remember watching that movie at the drive-in in Penitanguishine -- Patrick Swayze is so HOT. I think it was back to back with Sister Act. Whoopi Goldberg is so HOT. But she couldn't surf, at least, not in these widow-makers. Ten foot, twelve foot, whatEVER. Bring it!

Well, as usually happens when you through out a "bring it!" to mother nature I got rocked. I got caught up in a massive wave, probably 8000 feet tall (approximations, the waves look bigger when you're on top of them), that slammed me down into the sand full force, and then proceeded to tumble me and crush me with the wrath of Khan. Well, thankfully I could still swim and made it to shore, limp like a wet bowl of corn flakes. I made it home with the help of my friends, and then the guy that worked at the guesthouse we were staying at made me a makeshift cane out of an old broom and a piece of pipe.


(my crutches)

At night time, the entire community of El Sunzal shuts down at or just before 8pm. The "main drag" is the whole town, and it consists of a few eateries and hostels which have been built up along the highway. So we ate a lot of watermelon, and played a lot of cards, and some of the crew drank beer.


(deeeelicious)

I love this country. El Salvador is really beautiful, and the people are very helpful without any expectation. And best of all, as a traveller, is that there are so few tourists here, thanks to its reputation. The other day when I logged onto gmail, a friend messaged me, "Hey Jon, how's the murder capital of the world?" Great! That's the reputation. Far too dangerous for travellers. Stay away. The truth of the matter is that I haven't felt in danger yet in this country. Most of the crime, and there is a lot of it, happens in the capital, San Salvador. Generally, if you don't travel at night, and don't appear to be rich (you can't help the colour of your skin which inevitably attracts attention, but you can avoid wearing flashy clothes), you will not have many problems in any country.

This is a poor country, that has been ravaged by war. They had an incredibly bloody civil war that lasted until about 10 years ago, with many massacres and brutalization of their people. But now, even with the events so fresh in their minds, people carry on their lives smilingly. It's generally a simple and slow life, outside the capital, and people are usually content to watch the world go by at a liesurely pace.

(washing in the river)



(enjoying a little sunset soccer)

(palm trees and a sunset)