Nicaragua Travels!

Nicaragua!!!!!

Every building, street, smile, handshake and home of Nicaragua seems to hold a story like a secret just dying to be told. We have visited many countries each having its own unique history, culture and identity but we have never experienced a country quite like Nicaragua. Not even a language barrier could stop us from understanding the pain and suffering that once plagued this country. Less than 20 years ago Nicaragua had been amidst a civil war. The memories pain and aftermath of the war are still present in many areas but in the peoples smiles and cities you can feel nothing but strength, vibrance and new hope.

We spent a little under a week exploring the inland areas of Granada, Isla Ometepe on Lake Nicaragua and Leon. Each place left us more impressed than the next. We visited the oldest Cathedral in Central America, War Museums, hiked to a crater lake at the top of a volcano, and ate at local restaurants on colonial streets. We loved ,loved, loved Nicaragua!!! The people, colors, food, noises, markets are enough to make your head spin and your eyes sting. Their is such an explosion of life buzzing in and out of every little crack that you have to stop yourself every few moments, close your eyes and remember where you are.

Hiking to the top of a volcano and Brandon’s barber shop extravaganza are memories we always reflect on. But of all our experience in Nicaragua the one memory we constantly find ourselves reflecting on and the one I think we will cherish the most is the simple journey of our bus ride back to the marina. I say simple but a bus ride in Central America is something you have to experience first hand to truly understand!

We had one more two hour bus ride back to the marina before we could officially call our inland trip of Nicaragua a success. We scrambled out of the grocery store after delaying the whole line because they didn’t take credit cards and we didn’t have any Cordoba’s. A reoccurring problem with us! We bought as many groceries as we could carry considering it had been weeks since our last grocery store and it would probably be just as long until our next one. Fifteen minutes early for the bus we were positive we would find plenty of room for our groceries, huge backpacks and of course us. Wrong! The bus was not only crowded already but practically full. I must explain that these buses are no air conditioned Grey hound. They are old yellow school buses from the U.S. We pushed our way past the fat cranky bus driver and began our attempt to load about fifteen grocery bag and our huge backpacks in the rack above peoples heads. I thought that every one would think we were crazy but as it turned out it looked like common procedure. Brandon ended up sitting in the very front row and still had thirteen plus people standing in front of him. I was a few rows back with boxes of milk and six packs on my lap sitting next to another lady and her child. We sat parked, drenched in sweat and packed into this bus for nearly forty minutes before the fat cranky bus driver decided he had shoved enough papas fritas into his mouth to start the engine. There were a minimum of three people to a seat and every square inch of standing room on the bust was occupied. The bus like all chicken buses stopped about every other block to see if they could squeeze just one more person on. These stops also allow for women and children to try and maneuver their way through the cramped aisles to sell food and drinks. Complete Chaos! It was way past being hot, sweaty and annoyed so Brandon and I decide to take it all in, sit back and do the only thing we could laugh!

We found the patience the people on the bus had amazing. At home when you are sitting next to someone if you even tap their elbow you get the invasion of privacy glare and these people were practically dirty dancing they were so close to each other and no one blinked an eye. The lady next to me spoke no English and I tried to convey to her that I spoke very little Spanish but that didn’t seem to matter to her. For the next three hours she talked to me non stop and I tried my hardest to decipher some of it but in all reality I was pretty lost. The universal language of a smile and head nod seemed to be all she needed to continue on though. We hadn’t eaten anything before we got on and were starving but that posed to be no problem. By the time we had gotten to the marina I think every food item available in Nicaragua had been managed to find its way down the crowded aisle of the bus. We bought some pastries from a little girl about half way through and decided to stay away from some of the scarier items like ice cream that never seemed to melt!

The best part of the bus trip was once we had gotten far enough out of the city and were in the rural villages. That is where we got to really experience first hand how these people get their food to survive. Suddenly hauling our fifteen grocery bags of food back to the marina seemed like less of a chore and more of a luxury. The bus would unload huge bags of rice and beans that were stacked on the top of the bus to villages. The man in charge of loading and off-loading everything had the most charismatic smile. He seemed to be best friends with every family and every passenger . He made jokes, flirted and had lengthy conversations with all the women who waited on the side of the road to make sure they were getting what they ordered. We speculated that the bags of rice, grain and beans these ladies were collecting were shared with entire villages. Their were also ladies carrying bags of live squawking chickens that they had bought in town. It was fascinating to watch how the people of these rural villages carried through their typical Monday marketing. For the first time in Nicaragua we felt as if we fit in with the locals and were not just American tourists. We may be traveling different paths in life but in those three hours we were all crammed on the same bus with the same mission. Getting our food home in one piece!!!!