We Have Power!!!

WE HAVE POWER! --The power came back on the first floor today. It's been off for a week. God is Wonderful!!

Spanish Church

Went to a spanish church this evening. It took place outside in a cage. I felt like an ultimate fighter singing hymns behind bars, wondering if the wardens were the black crows that keep squaking at us and flipping their tails. Services started around 5pm with everyone really showing up at 5:30. Everything is done "Pura Vida" so we were told. Services were in spanish, lesson was in spanish, and through out it all I found myself saying, "Oh I know that word, oh that one too." Didn't understand the lesson, I'm not that far along, but as the night fell and the sky darkened it really felt like a Costa Rican worship service. Even towards the end when the rain poured down around us, splashing off the ground onto our ankles, and roaring off the tin roof I couldn't help but smile. Outdoor services with its weather and bugs, works wonders on your determination to focus. We slipped and slid back to the car, but smiling the whole way. What a great adventure, experience and way to improve my Spanish. Getting in touch with the community is really a way to experience the country.

Home Again

I made it home today. Caught the Tica Bus at the random bus place, not a bus stop. It doesn't have one in Rivas. Went to my assigned seat this time, and crossed the border in over an hour. The line wrapped around the building and there was only one guy stamping passports. Made it to Liberia where by a miracle Titus and I met up, and by 4:30 we were heading home. Have I really only been gone two weeks? Wow it seems like another life. So I'm Costa Rican back, and will settle back into the routine in no time. Thanks be to God for a safe trip and meeting. Wow what a relief!

Horsies, Rock Carvings, and Amazing Views!

Today was horse back riding. We were both excited to go, and when the jeep pulled up with two locals, we quickly scurried down the stairs. Like a military escort they barley glanced at us, while the driver sucked on a sucker like a recovering chain smoker, the other opened the back hatch of the jeep and watched us get in. Without a word they pulled out, the topless jeep rushing the wind through our hair. We could not have looked more unusual sitting in the back facing each other and smiling with childish glee. Down a road and turning off a dirt path we headed toward the working cattle farm and the adventure tour group called “the flying frog” (Did not ask why so don’t know). We got out and with wordless hand gestures were astride horses before the dust even settled from the tires.

Here I must digress for a moment . . . .

I’ve become one of them. One of those tourist riding horses in sandals. I’m ashamed. With lowered head I placed my opened toed shoe into the stirrup and whispered a plea for forgiveness from all my instructors. What could I do? I hadn’t planned on staying an extra week, or brought pants, or shoes. Instead I was astride my steed in yoga capris and sandals. Oh how the mighty will be humbled. At least I did not have the camera around my neck or the brightly colored Hawaiian shirt.

Okay back on the farm . . .

Gesturing with a branch our guide, Estrular, expected us to know the way, while the horses seemed to silent agree to go as slow as possible. In natural silence we began our travel up a wide dirt road, the horses vying for the best route kept bumping into each other like bumper cars at a carnival. I had uncontrollable laughter from the silliness of the animals and yet again found myself rolling my eyes and apologizing to the other riders. Our first stop was down a cement step path to a large boulder with petroglifs . The designs were beautiful, but I found it strange it was just the one rock. No others have been found and there is no known age or explanations for the drawings. Oh a mystery in the mountains of Nicaragua. Then back on our lumber steeds with names I can’t even pronounce, we headed up the mountain to the top and got a breath-removing view of the whole city of San Juan Del Sur. The bay, the waves, the boats and houses were laid out like a little map in beautiful color and precision. We took a moment to snap pictures like good tourists do and then got back on our horses and headed down, back to the farm. End of the ride, end of the experience. Snapped a few photos of the adorable cows with big ears and road the jeep back to school. Ah horseback riding, always and adventure regardless of the horse.

Enchiladas - so not Mexico!

Today’s activity for class was making Nicaraguan Enchiladas. There are nothing like the ones back at the states which are strongly Mexican influenced. To make Nica Enchiladas you need corn flour, (it came in a back already mixed with spices) and beef. Mixed with the beef is carrot shavings, and onion, tomato (you can also add garlic) White pepper was sprinkled in along with Maggie seasonings.

Water was added to the corn flour mix to make the tortillas of the enchilada and then cheese was grated in for extra texture. Small balls were made with the flour, then patted out into round flat moons before carne mixture was added in the center. Then the tortilla was folded over, sealed around the edges and dropped into hot oil to fry up and get crisp. Once they are a nice golden brown, they’re removed and drained, then topped with ensalda. Cabbage, shredded carrot, and onion soaked in salt water. Oh My! They were delicious and I wanted more then the allotted two. I’m going to try and make them when I get back but . . . . things never taste as good when I make them. Oh well, I’ll cherish the taste here and drool over it’s memory always.

Field Trip

Class then had a class trip to Rivas. Went to the pier where you can catch the ferry to Ometpe, the island with two volcanoes. Saw two monkeys leashed to a tree, and sand blowing so hard it coated our skin. Next we went to a house that makes chocolate, the natural sort which is basically caco and azucar. Got to sample and see it in different forms, including a Caco tree. Bought some, it is good stuff. Learned that all of Central America has a Chocolate competition and the place we visited is ranked number one for best chocolate. Again, good stuff. I like it much better than Hershey’s and milk chocolate. It’s natural too.

Then we stopped at a wall with the history of the indigenous people and Spaniards met. Then onwards to a museum that was coated in dust and mice droppings with a sprinkling of artifacts. There were taxidermy animals everywhere and it was sort of strange to see them, glassed eyed and teeth barred. We were the only ones there, and if the taxi hadn’t taken us, I never would have found it. Afterwards we visited an Artisan’s shop with hand crafted goods, then drove to the park central and got stuck waiting for a parade of kinds in the backs of cars, covered in shaving cream laughing. One theory was they were advertising the new shaving cream, but its possible it could have been something else. We’ll never know.

Monday is relaxing

Today was an easy day. Nothing much new, dropped off my clothes at the laundry, where they will be washed and dried by six. The cost, 3 dollars. Bought my Tica bus ticket home, spoke mostly in Spanish and hopefully got it all right. Will find out on Saturday. I’m going to risk taking the chicken bus on Saturday morning at 7am because I need to be at the Tica Bus stop in Rivas at between 8:15 and 8:30.

We stopped to take a break and noticed that pole with all the lines. Not safe, not usual, and a definate reason for the power outages. Love the freedom in Central America!

Getting Back Isn't Easy!

Today was most adventurous. In the morning we went out to Kathy’s Waffle House and had an amazing breakfast including plantains, fried cheese, pinto de gallo with tomatoes and peppers and eggs. Afterward we went to find the church we’d heard about.

Last night a man from Las Vegas told us that there was a church you could go up in the tower and see all of Granada. Intrigued we were determined to find it, and rounding a corner we saw an old blackened church with a high tower. This had to be it. Since it was a Sunday we didn’t know when services started so we quietly entered the building to the sounds of a young Spanish teacher teaching children gathered around her in small pews.

Locating where the tower was, we saw that the fence was locked and just kind of stood there wondering what to do. A sign on the board said the tower was open, but it didn’t say when or what time. One of the father’s came over and asked if we wanted to go up the tower. We nodded and he told us to wait a moment.

After a dollar donation, up the narrow spiral stairs we traveled, up, up, up till we reached the bells themselves and the breath-taking landscape of Granada. The hills, blue sky and colored tiles created a colorful blanket beneath us with the wind threatening to rip the hats from our heads. Overjoyed by the view, we snapped away, from each corner trying to get the best shot.

An added bonus to this little tower climb was that they rang the bells while we were up there. A young man came bounding up the stairs, waved and then disappeared behind one of the pillars. Fabienne called out “Anna, they’re going to ring the bells,” so I scrambled back around to watch snapping a picture after the first stroke, nearly making me go deaf. Quickly covering my hears, we listened as the man stroke and banged the bells marking the time 10 till. Just for us he tolled the bells, and every time after, when we heard them ring, we’d smile with the memories of our own Nostradamus in Nicaragua.

Not wanting to push our luck with the buses, we grabbed a quick snack, I had some delicious gelato at Euro Café, and then grabbed our stuff. Pounding the beaten asphalt and cracked cement we retraced our steps to the bus stop to find our ride. Only there wasn’t one. No bus to Rivas on a Sunday, we were told. WHAT! Now what, we asked ourselves in a hushed conference. Take a taxi? No too expensive. Spend another night in Granada? – Not possible we had class on Monday. With a wave of his hand, the bus driver who told us the bad news, communicated that he could get us a bus to Rivas. Without another option we boarded the bus to somewhere and wedged into the child size school bus seats. After paying our 20 cordobas a piece, we waited unsure if we would find ourselves in Managua, or some other out of the way destination.

As we’re riding, we both spot the same bus from Rivas that we caught yesterday passing by with a honk and a wave from the driver and realize something has been mis-communicated. Oh well, too late now to turn back, we’re body blocked on this bus until someone moves. Both the bus driver, money collector and young man in the back know we need to get to Rivas, so I feel confident that we’ll arrive somewhere.

Suddenly the bus stops. Looking at up at us in the rear view mirror, the driver’s eyes reach ours. “Chicas, Rivas!” he calls and we scramble out of our seats, people squeezing out of our way. My foot gets stuck and I struggle to pull it loose, while Fabienne disappears out the back door. The exit door, the ones we as children were never allowed to touch, much less use. Here it is just another convenient exit. Sprinting across the main road we get onto a large blue express bus, held at bay by one of the bus driver’s aides. Like a metallic bull, it grunts and rocks as we board, making sure we are on our way to Rivas, we sink with happy sighs into plush chairs, complete with arm rests. Now we’re headed in the right direction. Taking another look around once I’ve settled in, I note it is a very posh ride. Music plays over the speakers, a music video is running on the TV screen up front, the seats are soft, and the windows are clean. We ride the bus to Rivas ($2 a person) where we get dropped off in town and have no idea where the central bus station is from yesterday.

We ask a taxi driver and he points in a direction. We walk the indicated way, but nothing looks familiar. We turn around and ask a bicycle taxi. He doesn’t know where the station is, so we ask some other locals. They tell us in the spot we are waiting a bus to San Jan passes every 30 minutes. Two pass but don’t even slow down. We cross the street to ask at a business and the guy walks us out and points down the street. We walk a ways and he keeps waving us farther down till we can’t see him anymore and stop. Asking some more locals that are waiting they assure us you can get a bus here at the spot. We wait and a public taxi pulls up and we pile into the back for a $2 ride back to town. Needless to say it was much easier getting to Granada then getting home.

Once back in San Juan, we drop off our stuff at school and then head to the beach for a meal and refresh. While dining I bought a 30 cordoba DVD of Clash of the Titans. It is supposed to be in English with Spanish Subtitles, or so the street vendor assures me. Can’t wait to see it because you never know what you’re going to get. I opened the case and saw it was a blank DVD and smiled. Can’t play it till I get home, but either way it will be another part of the Nica experience.

Went back to the ice cream shop, knowing I needed a reward for the days travel and had the nicest ice cream lady every. She even overflowed the cup with extra ice cream. Apparently the two must balance each other out.

Going to Granada

Today we caught a public bus in San Juan to Rivas. It waited till it was mostly full then took off picking up and dropping off passengers as it went along. The brakes were so bad they ground, metal on metal at each stop and I know if I’d looked out the window, there would have been sparks flying. We arrived at the central bus terminal for all regional buses and found the one for Granada for 24 cordobas ( $1)

While we waited for other passengers, street vendors came on the bus calling out their wares from watches, to food, jewelry to music. We had to laugh because it was like having a market on the bus. You didn’t even have to get off to have ice cream or water delivered. Everything was advertised as "Incredible" and "Fresh". Bus square was packed with people, stray dogs that were so emaciated they fought over plastic bags with a little liquid inside and ran around with ribs showing tail between their legs. We don’t see that in the States because we simply remove the dogs and put them down. So much activity was fun to watch from the window, studying people, watching the Saturday going-ons.

Once we pulled out and were on our way, again we stopped to pick up and drop off people. There was even a pig brought on board squealing in distress and making us smile. Really a pig. We had to laugh, ours wasn’t a chicken bus as everyone calls the public bus, but a pig one. Then a man stood up and started selling medication for headaches, indigestion and acid reflux. He walked down the isle raving about his wonder drugs, us not understanding a word, and passed out samples. When he had finished and worked his way to the back of the bus, he retraced his steps and collected the samples back.

Granada’s public bus stop drops you off in the middle of the massive local market. We wove our way through the crowds looking for hostels and the park central which is the reference point for all tourism. The first hostel we found we could get a shared room, two beds for 6 dollars each. It was located a little too out of town for us, so we kept moving and finally found the park center. Like walking into a peaceful silence, all the noise from the market died down and the peacefulness of the trees and shade helped cool our minds and body. Now with a definite point of reference we located another hostel called the Bearded Monkey where all that was left was a dorm bed for $8. No thanks, after looking at the room, mattresses on the floor, clothes strewn around, we kept moving. Two doors down from that same hostel was another quiet purple one, with a shared room for seven dollars apiece and very clean. I even got to use a towel for free (most hostals charge a rental fee). We took the room, dumped our stuff and then headed out to see the sites.

Down the main strip with all the restaurants, we walked, to the pier and then back, photographing some old churches and sites we found of interest. We ate at an Irish pub. Fabienne says they’re all over the world and wondered if there were any Irish still left in Ireland. It claimed to have the best fish and chips in Central America. I was sadly disappointed, and not impressed. Afterwards we explored some more waiting for the movie in the only theater in town to start. There is only one movie showing a day, at 6:45. Ours was Shutter Island, and even though the poster was in Spanish, the movie itself was in English with Spanish subtitles. The cost was around $1.25, and there even bats in the theater that would occasionally flutter across the projector and cast dark shadows across the faces of the actors. It was great. It turned out to be a good movie, not a horror or gory like we both thought and to top it all off, we even got to watch the trailer for Clash of the Titan’s dubbed in Spanish. Classic!

Finally found a hat - Friday

Yesterday we wondered downtown San Juan Del Sur shopping. Seeing what the local items were. I needed a hat, having foolishly left mind at home, and wanted a captains hat. I'd spotted one on our first jaunt around town on Monday, but since then they have seemed to vanish. I found another one, the other day but it was ten dollars and I didn't want to pay that much.

So today, in the same market I was in yesterday, I found one and bought if for seven dollars. Not bad, and I can now use it for the planned trip to Granada we are taking over the weekend. We also found the library where we were able to check out two books and got our very own library cards. What a treat! We both borrowed spanish kids book to improve our reading schools, and left while I sighed with great longing over missing these things back in Costa Rica.

We also visited a Pananria, bakery, where we both thought was chocolate cake turned out to be ginger bread. Good stuff and only 50 cents a piece. They were big pieces!

I splurged later that day and bought ice cream at an ice cream shop. There I encountered the world's most unfriendly ice cream man. Large and sweaty he grunted as I happily asked for my order of a single scoop of vanilla with Carmel on a cone. Glaring, he stared me down as I waited, wondering if my simple order in spanish had been said wrong. I'd only said three words so it couldn't have been. Finally when he seemed to realize I wasn't leaving without my ice cream, he lumbered to the scooper and began carving out a lump. A small lump. Even as he shoved it onto the cone, he seemed to eye it, and shaved off a bit before he give it to me. I handed over the alloted amount and then he huffed as he waddled to get my change. (It was only 50 cents a scoop) Handing back my change, he watched me leave, a frown upon his face, and I licked the dripping goodness doing my best not to break out laughing. Who would figure an unhappy Ice Cream man. Come on, its Ice Cream!!!

Secluded Beach

Went to a secluded beach today down a long dusty road, but not matter how deserted, there was still a place to hang out, that served food and drinks and where you could rent surf boards. Fabienne and I wanted to take pictures but our instructors warned us not to go far with our cameras. How strange is it when you go to a public place, with other people and you can't take your camera out and wonder off to far. Especially when its the locals that warn you. The beach was beautiful, the waves were huge, and I leisurely read in the shaded restaurant on the beach. Dogs wandered around, locals chatted and internationals played cards. I wondered how they'd found this place, so unreachable by car and off the map for sure. On the way there we gave a ride to two locals who clung onto the outside back of the car with their surf and boogie board. Suddenly half way there we hear this banging on the roof and look back to see that the boogie board is a good half mile back dead on the road. Laughing the guy jumps off after it as we back up and let him jump back on. Travel in Central America is always a laugh and an adventure!

Learning to cook typical Nicaraguan food

Today's activity was making a typical Nicaraguan meal. I can't remember the name, but it was a corn chowder soup with vegetables, simmered on the stove along with boiled plantains. We were told it was a common dish because the ingredients are inexpensive and the corn powder in it makes it heavy and filling - meaning you eat a little of it and you're full for a long time. It was delicious and ours was served in bowl plates so it would cool quicker. We helped chop onions, garlic, tomatoes and watched the experts, our teachers, bring

the dish to perfection. YUM!

Hiking to Jesus

Today our activity after class was a hike to Jesus. Armed with water bottles and flip flops we began walking through the outskirts of San Juan. Down dirt roads, and mud puddles we followed our two teachers, Fabienne and I. Fabienne is Swiss, and studying at the school for four weeks before she spends six more months traveling through Central and South America. She will fly out of Argentina in December. Right now she speaks German, Swiss German, French and English. Spanish is her new language and we are both learning together with private teachers. She's great, really fun to hang out with, and I'm glad we get to do these things together. First we walked along a the back streets of San Juan with a warning to not walk them at night, two lone white girls could get into some trouble, and then we crossed a little San Francisco bridge.

I'm not kidding it was an exact replica except designed for foot traffic, not cars. After crossing the "bay" we climbed these steep stairs to an even steeper street. Turns out there is a really rich neighborhood in San Juan, where the houses seem to belong in Beverly Hills, not Nicaragua. Strange how such poverty and wealth always seems to co-exist.

Panting like a dying race horse, we crested the hill and then still had more stairs to come to reach the statue. After paying our $1 entry, we got an amazing view of the bay of San Juan, the waves breaking in a perfect line creating white lines along the shore. Jesus stood pointing out toward the bay with some unknown message, while we snapped photos and enjoyed the view. Great exercise and a great first activity.

Back at the beach, we strolled through the main part of town, and it is has a very "beachy" feel with palm fawn huts for restaurants, stray dogs, and people lazing in hammocks. Buildings are brightly colored and people sell jewelry on the sidewalk. From the beach we looked back at Jesus and smiled knowing we'd been up that high and now were back on earth again. Welcome to life in perspective.

In Nicaragua

Big travel day today. I made it across the border to Nicaragua with stories to tell. Ah yes travel is not a boring occasion, especially when you do not speak the language. The journey started at nine am when Titus drove me to Liberia to pick up the bus. We waited in the restaurant where the bus was supposed to stop. Out in the parking lot it was just going to stop. Some how that didn't seem to make sense to me. What about a bus stop, a location for pick up and drop off. Really just a parking lot?

Yep, it arrived and along with another couple I boarded the bus. First interesting point, although assigned a seat number on my ticket, actually sitting in that seat was not an option. I think that bus was crammed to capacity. I took the last open seat toward the front, and discovered that my backpack would not fit into the overhead compartment. Now what, I wondered. The Bus drive had assured me I would not need to check it below with a wave of his hand, and now I was standing holding the bag. Suddenly the ground shifted beneath my feet and we were off. Definatly not putting it below now. Blessedly it slipped beneath the foot of the seat and I straddled it with my legs. I was seated next a quiet gentlemen, who was most pleasant and took piety on me with my Spanish. He spoke no English so I got my first lesson of the day. Its strange, I seem to understand what people are saying, but doubt that I really do. I discover this when someone translates for me and I find myself saying "I thought that was what they were asking."

Before the conversation started with my fellow seat passenger, the bus came to a stop. I thought we were picking up some more passengers, although where they would sit would be a mystery. Turns out it was an accident and we waited for an hour on the road. Blessedly there was air conditioning, it was early morning, and every seemed relaxed. We drove by the wreck, turned out to be another autobus on the road, the entire left side torn off. Rumors flew that it has rolled off the road. Our whole bus rocked to one side as we passed the carnage, everyone vying for a spot to see. What is it about wrecks? Is it seeing the possibility of it having happened with thoughts that it could have been us, that death had passed over us to another bus? I heard no sirens, no police, just a tow truck and a guy in a reflective vest waving us on. I wondered where the passengers were but could not get a good enough view from my side and the height of the bus.

Once moving again I struck up a stumbling conversation with my friend and pleaded in what I'm sure was a desperate matter for his help when we arrived at the border. We arrived much sooner then I realized, and my hand shook as I scrambled to fill out the customs and declarations form as people got off. Disembarking a group of moneychangers haggled the crowd, but were not too pushy. My friend pointed to a line and made the gesture that I was too wait. I did like a bewildered child watching the activity around with wonder. Trying to blend in and appear cool was not my concern. I wouldn't anyways. They allowed us through groups at a time, and watching, I tried my best to keep up with what everyone else was doing. I handed over my passport with my papers, were handed the papers back, a loud bang, and my passport was stamped. I was waved on without even an upward glance and I left, the line of waiters stretching down past the building and out of sight. We had arrived just before two large buses. Another blessing.

Back on the bus, before I could sigh, I went to the bathroom and discovered all forms of paper had been removed. Luckily I had a stash, but I was reminded that I was now traveling on public transportation. Oh the fun. Upon returning to my seat, people were dropping their passport into a plastic bag along with a form. I quickly dug mine out and then the driver said I needed to pay Cinco Mil. I only had a 10 Mil on me so I handed it to him with a shrug. He told me to remind him to give 5 back to me. I nodded and wondered if I'd would know how I would remind him later. So off the passports went into a bag and we drove another 10 feet to another stop.

Here we all disembarked, with our bags and stood in a line execution style and waited. Baking in the sun, we had our bags sniffed and then ourselves by the cutest black drug dog puppy I'd ever seen. I wanted to pet him, but I figured I'd probably get my hand shot off if I tried so I simply stood still in silence like everyone else. Three times the dog stopped at the same bag and finally dropped down onto his stomach and waited. The guards took the bag and began unloading its contents on the hood of a car. The owner, a rather larger, older woman explained each item as they pulled it out, until they got to a small lotion bottle with a screw off lid. Opening it were different medicines, the punch out kind, resting inside. Holding up the suspicious pills, the guard eyed her and she began gesturing to her back, and there her knees, making it seem as if they were for those particular areas. While guard and drug toter went back and forth, the other guards compared footwear, with one having received new boots, still clean beige and crisp laces. Like those famous scenes in movies, where everyone is sweating in the hot sun while a vulture circles above, the guards with sunglasses chewed on toothpicks and glared. Tourist and local alike stood in pools of their own sweat and cursed the day pain meds were invented. This was my movie scene and there was no spritzer to cool us off. Being an extras has no frills!

Finally the signal was given, we all gratefully piled back on board and settled into our seats for another 10 feet crawl and then were herded off again. What now? I wondered, but all we did was unload all our luggage, turn in our white slips and then get back on the bus, after our name was called and our passports stamped. It was the luggage inspection/ boarder patrol for Nicaragua. We'd crossed the border.

Dropped off in Rivas on the side of the road, bus driver took care of me, returned my 5 mil colones and arranged a taxi with a fare of $20 to San Juan. In 35 minutes I arrived in San Juan Del Sur and found the school down a dirt road. Graciously welcomed by the owner, who mentioned she was worried I was so late, I was shown to my room, complete with own bathroom, and everything was painted in bright bold colors. I'd made it, a little hotter, dirtier and later then I expected, but I was happy. I'd made it across the border.