Our Final Visitor

With every visitor that came down here, we went to at least one new place we had never been, and each trip had its own feel.  On the Ragans' first visit, we went to Selva Negra in Matagalpa and regretted not bringing winter coats or avoiding the salad; when Laura and Nancy came, we enjoyed Pelican Eyes paradise; when my parents came, we braved the bumpy roads and one-way streets to visit León; and Danny's visit took us all the way to the Atlantic coast to ring in 2009.  My brother Jake was the last visitor we'll host in Nicaragua, and his trip was the most laid back of them all.  We knew Jake would be easygoing so we didn't really have a set plan or even reservations for where to stay during the trip.  The (lack of a) plan turned out to be a success, and we wound up visiting volcanoes all over the country and finally making it to Ometepe Island.

We started by staying a couple of nights in Masaya and riding our neighborhood bus, visiting the markets and hunting for souveniers, and enoying the best restaurants Masaya has to offer (one day was more than enough time for the restaurant part).  Here we are waiting for the bus:

We then made the journey down to Rivas to catch the ferry to Ometepe island, the large island in the middle of Lake Nicaragua that's the home to two large volcanoes.  From the water's edge, the island seems so close that you could swim to it, but that's actually not the case.  It's about an hour-long ferry ride that seems much longer when you're stuck with a lot of backpackers playing their guitars and bicycle enthusiasts wearing their padded shorts:

It gave us a great view of the volcanoes and the island, though, so we just tried to tune out Freebird.

We eventually made it to the island then took a taxi to our hotel, a nice little resort that was recommended to us by a Volunteer on the island.  We made it just in time to catch a really pretty sunset:

The next morning, Paul and Jake woke up before the sun rose to celebrate Paul's birthday and Obama's inauguration by climbing Volcán Concepción, the big, active volcano on the island.  My birthday present to Paul was that I stayed at the hotel instead of accompanying them to climb a really steep volcano.

 

The beginning of the path:

Taking a quick break on the hike up:

They couldn't go to the very top to look in because it was too windy, and the guide said it was too steep and difficult to be worth going all the way up anyway.  Here's the view from the volcano:

And proof that they were there:

There were even some monkeys up in the trees (don't tell Dora):

They hiked back down and made it back to our hostel by the middle of the afternoon in time for Paul to watch some of the inauguration activities and Jake to enjoy Paul's Nintendo DS until the battery gave out.  We went to the main city to have some dinner and explore and then left the island the following morning.

We unintentionally match a lot.

After a ferry ride back to the mainland, we took a bus up to Granada.  Masaya is only about 45 minutes from Granada in bus, so when we go we normally make it a day trip and come back to Masaya.  We had heard good things from other Volunteers about a hostel called Oasis, so we decided to give it a try and planned to stay there for two nights to be able to hang out in Granada without having to travel back and forth.  Plans changed, however when we woke up after our first night covered in flea bites.  We packed up our things, stored them in our little hostel lockers, and decided we'd spend the second night in Masaya where we'd at least know they were our own bed bugs biting us.

We decided to spend the day visiting our second volcano of the trip, Mombacho.  This was the volcano that cemented my hatred for all paths inclined, but at least this time we were only going part way up to do the canopy tour. 

On the very wire, you go from the platform to the ground and the guy at the bottom pulls on the wire so that you bounce.  My favorite is at the very end of the video when Jake crashes in to the guy:

We made it back to Granada, had some lunch and picked up our stuff from the flea-infested hostel, and went back to Masaya.   Jake's trip was quickly coming to an end, so we had to decide how we should spend his last day here: visit the old political prison? Go swimming at the Laguna de Apoyo? Visit Volcán Masaya?  Go to the zoo?  Go to the parakeet nature reserve?  Play more Nintendo DS?  We asked Jake for input, but he deferred to our judgment and said he'd be happy doing whatever.  Now, Jake and I did our fair share of bickering as kids, and a few short years ago he would have not only voiced an opinion, but he would have made sure it was the exact opposite of whatever opinion I had.  For him to be so darn agreeable was quite a shock, and it was nearly impossible for us to choose, even after consulting our guide books and telling Jake the pros and cons of each possibility.  Eventually it became apparent that Paul and I were just going to have to make a choice, so we decided to round out our volcano tour with a visit to Masaya's volcano.  Jake's response? "Oh, good.  I was just about to say I wanted to go to the volcano."

Masaya's volcano has a nice, paved road to the crater at the top and lots of trails surrounding it.  We went on the cave tour to get out of the mid-afternoon heat and to see some bats: mission accomplished on both counts.

 

We couldn't really take a lot of pictures in the cave because it was dark (we should have brought own own head lamps, because their flashlights were pretty weak), but the guide took a picture of us in the back of the cave.  It took a few tries since he was just pointing the camera at darkness.  Also, Paul and I have too many green shirts:

  

Here we are after the hike with the big crater behind us.

 

There was a lot of smoke coming out of the crater; the guide said the reddish color was because it was sulfur dioxide.  It smelled really bad and burned our throats.

 

Apparently this cross was built in the 16th century to keep the devil away; people thought the volcano was the mouth of hell.

 

Paul and I both had a great week, and since Jake never expressed an opinion to the contrary, we'll just assume that he did too.

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It's hot

Masaya is probably in the middle of Nicaragua's heat spectrum, generally not as hot as Managua, Rivas, or Leon, but hotter than Matagalpa or Jinotega. Right now, though, it's hot everywhere--right in time for a week of vacation for Semana Santa and nothing to do but sit around the house where we just sweat unless there's a fan blowing directly on us.

Yesterday we took a trip to the mall in Managua just so we could sit in the air conditioning for a few hours and it was everything we expected it to be. We took our time browsing at the stores and the nearby grocery store. There aren't many places close to home where we can enjoy the cold, but we're thinking of some complicated banking transactions that we'll need to do next week in the bank that has AC.

Here's our clock that annoyingly will not let us forget how hot it is in the middle of our house:

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Devil's Advocate

Think Again: The Peace Corps
by Robert Strauss

The reason the Peace Corps is overlooked as a development organization has a lot to do with the youth and inexperience of the majority of its volunteers. Equally important is its unwillingness to decide if it is a development organization or an organization with a mission “to promote world peace and friendship,” as stipulated by Congress in the Peace Corps Act. It would like to be both, but finds itself falling short on both objectives because it cannot decide which is the more important.

Last week I discovered this article in Foreign Policy written by a former Peace Corps Country Director. It's a somewhat critical view of Peace Corps and its effectiveness, and asserts that many widely held beliefs regarding Peace Corps are actually myths.

Paul and I feel a little conflicted because we agree with many of Strauss' arguments, but also don't want to think our time here has been frivolous. We will leave Nicaragua in less than six months, so at this stage in our service we're beginning to think about the mark we'll be leaving on our community. This might not have been the ideal time for us to stumble upon this article, but it's worth thinking about and I wanted to share it here.

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Trash

In Masaya we're pretty lucky because we get regular trash pick up three times a week. Some of our friends in smaller cities have to wait a lot longer or just burn their trash like their neighbors. The truck usually comes in the morning, but we can't put trash out too far ahead of time or the dogs will tear it apart. There's really nothing worse than coming home to a ripped apart trash bag and your trash strewn all along the road for the whole neighborhood to see.

Several men walk alongside the truck all day long, picking up the trash and throwing it into the back of the truck.  To alert people that the trash truck is coming there is a really loud bell that is rung as they're coming down the street, and Dora has learned that that bell means something exciting is happening. Usually we forget or are asleep when the trash truck comes, so we're always frantically running around trying to put everything in one bag, run to the front door, unlock several locks, and put the trash on the sidewalk. With my inferior human ears I sometimes don't hear it until it's already passed, but now Dora is quick to alert us and we don't have to worry about keeping stinky trash bags for an extra couple of days.

These guys just walk alongside the truck and pick up trash bags off of the sidewalk:

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Danny's Guest Blogging: Part Three: Reflections

Holly and Paul were two of my best friends in high school.  We have kept in touch since then, but our AIM chats and emails about their life in Nicaragua could not accurately convey just how much their lives have changed while serving in the Peace Corps.

Holly and Paul, without even realizing it, have become quite proficient at Spanish.  The moment that best illustrates this is when Holly and I were patronizing the fine establishment known as Tip Top. I stood alongside and watched as Holly and Tip Top lady discussed in Spanish the several different combinations of main courses and sides in the family meal, and after this two minute conversation, Holly turns to me and asks, "Does that sound good to you?"

Perhaps Holly assumed I was paying attention during my two Spanish courses in high school, but most likely, she didn't even realize that she was speaking in Spanish--ordering food in Spanish is commonplace, something she does every day.  I doubt Holly and Paul realize how impressive it is to a uni-lingual observer such as myself that they are able to communicate with people in two different languages while I can barely do it in one.

The transportation system in Nicaragua was also quite foreign to me. I expected standing-room only, hot and sweaty Nicaraguan buses where roosters and people ride side-by-side, but I didn't expect that all in one day, we would utilize every mode of transportation ever invented: we took a boat back to Bluefields, a cab to the airport, a plane to Managua, and a school bus back to Masaya.  It's not even the varying forms of transportation--it's also the entire system for making reservations.  When I want to fly somewhere I go to expedia.com.  When they want to get around in Nicaragua, they go to the airport or bus terminal or harbor and hope the plane/bus/boat isn't full yet.  If it's not, they are awarded with their very own boarding pass, which I'm pretty sure was incorrectly taken literally by a Bluefields Airport worker at some point.

Nicaragua is an amazing place; it would make a great vacation spot or even a fun place to live if you approach the area with the right expectations.  I visited expecting to see how the other half lives. Nicaragua is the second poorest nation in the hemisphere, and certain areas are debilitatingly poor and dangerous--places where trash lines the side of the roads, and bums sleep on every sidewalk.  But there are comparable areas in every major American city too.

While Nicaragua does have impoverished areas, it also has beach areas and panoramic views that rival anything America's coastal cities have to offer.  Still, though, Nicaragua will not provide you with the creature comforts of America--but, as far as I'm concerned, that's the entire point.  If you're accustomed to eating McDonald's every day and having food brought to you (which, admittedly, I have been in the past) and going from one air conditioned place to another, then you're probably not going to like it.  But if you're willing to step outside of your boundaries then you'll likely discover that not only can you get by with way less, you might even be happier.

It is possible that my one week stay does not give me the authority to speak on this matter.  I had my own personal translators and photographers following me around for the duration of my short stay,
and they used their knowledge of the area to keep me out of trouble and show me the best that Nicaragua had to offer.   My week in Nicaragua was a vacation--I knew the poverty, the cold showers, and the muggy weather were temporary, and once I left I'd return to a familiar and comfortable America.  Holly and Paul don't have that luxury.  Still, though, I feel that the Peace Corps experience--both the good and the bad, and I know Holly has a list of the bads--is invaluable and will pay meaningful if not financial dividends later in life.

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