Nicaragua - Granada

I’ve always wanted to learn to surf. I’ve also always wanted to hang out with monkeys. I’m an enlisted guy in the military though, and therefore don’t make much money. Finding a place to satisfy the convergence of these desires was a challenge.

I had a friend tell a story about being arrested in Nicaragua. That sounded cool. From that day forward a battle cry was born.

"Nicaraguaaaaa"

You have to say it slowly and it helps to whisper it. It gives it more of an allure. Sarah and I started planning a trip. Over the next few months 3 friends would sign on. We would whisper “Nicaraguaaa” to each other in passing or leave notes to each other on Facebook walls with the call to adventure.

When I travel I like planning a thorough itinerary. If I have children, I suspect this will make me a good father keeping a clan together for a well thought out trip touching on all of the cultural points. For this trip, however, I refrained. While most of the time I like cramming a trip with as much stuff as possible, relaxation was high on my list of priorities for this trip. We had two goals for this trip – hike a volcano and learn to surf. And besides making hotel reservations, we would figure out the logistics when we got there. Part of this was to keep it open ended, but more so it was because there isn’t too much you can reserve in Nicaragua via the internet. Nicaragua is still pretty far off the gringo tourist trail. I would learn that “winging” it could be just as enjoyable if not more so.

We flew to Managua, Nicaragua’s capital city. One of the things that attracted us to Nicaragua was that it cost less than $400 to fly there. Stepping off the plane mid afternoon into the small airport, we were confronted with the fear of pandemic. Lab coats and masks pointed all the passengers to heat sensing cameras. We all took our turn in front of hyper-colored screen. No swine flu! For now at least.

We had a van lined up to take us to Granada, our first of two stops in country. The hour-long drive in the dilapidated van gave us an initial impression of the country. Hot and littered. The litter would graciously limit itself to the main highway.

Arriving in Granada we dropped our bags in our room and hit the town to explore and grab a bite to eat. We found a church early in our walk. It was pretty as churches often are. We paid a dollar to climb the bell tower as tourists often do. The tower provided a lovely panoramic view of the city and the surrounding country. Granada is the unofficial capital of Central America. One of the oldest cities that sits on the giant Lake Nicaragua, it’s roots are steeped in culture and pirates. From the tower we could see the Mombacho volcano where we would be the next day. We could also see two classically coned-shaped volcanoes in the distance – one spewing smoke or steam.

While snapping pictures, a young boy came up and told us that he was going to ring the bells. We all took positions on the outside of the thick walls to provide a barrier from the noise while the boy rocked out. In town fireworks and sirens from local emergency vehicles sounded. I wasn't sure if we were hearing a celebration or a revolution. After the bells rang, we thanked the young man for the warning and walked down the tower and into the town square. Turns out we were there for a festival at the cathedral. Clergy and Granadans of all walks of life paraded around with a band and an ornate Mary. It was a cool scene to stumble upon.

The next day we had one thing on the itinerary. Hiking Mombacho volcano. We got a sampling of a Nicaraguan breakfast, that consisted of rice, beans and fruit, and got ready to hike the volcano. I tried to line up a ride from the front desk of the hotel. He called a young man named Osmond. We ended up hiring Osmond to be our guide for the day. It was well worth the few extra bucks. We all piled in to Osmond’s old Toyota corolla and set out. The dark tinted windows and air conditioning blaring gave us some relief from the heat and humidity that we were still getting used to. As we made our way towards the volcano, Osmond pointed out some of the local sites. He had a certain way of navigating the many speed bumps along the way. One time the pavement crunched against his undercarriage.

"You know what that is?" Osmond said, pointing out an attraction and apparently not to concerned about the vehicle.

"Five yanquis," I said.

We arrived at the base of the volcano. Osmond’s Toyota took us as far as it could. We clambered aboard a ranger's pick up truck that took us up a few miles to a larger, military-style vehicle. We squished aboard the big truck with some French tourists and made our way to the top. Along the way we stopped at a coffee plantation that sat on the side of the volcano. The cool, moist air on the volcano makes for prime coffee. Russia buys most of the stuff. I bought a couple bags as my little part to spread some good old greenbacks around.

The top of the volcano had a large cabin where rangers sat ready to show tourists the many natural oddities the volcano had to offer. There were a couple trails We chose to the hardest they had available, a 4-hour walk that would take us around the top of the old volcano. The puma trail, as it was called, had 7,000 stairs. A lot of ups and downs. A good hike that I enjoyed more than some in our group. I heard two four lettered F bombs come out of a couple surprising mouths. One from a travel mate, Dana, who rarely cusses. The other was from Osmond who decided the trail was shitty enough for him to spew one of English's most elicit words. At least he has a mastery of the language. We saw a snake slither by and a couple frogs getting it on along the trail. No pumas or monkeys though. It was a good hike and my first along a volcano. They smell like ass, though it was cool to see plumes of steam escape the crater from time to time.

After finishing the trail, the big military truck put its transmission to work taking us back down the hill. Our day with Osmond wasn't done. He took us through a little vehicular tour of Granada. Driving through Granada's ghetto we passed a funeral procession. It was on foot, with horses pulling a black carriage followed by a silent congregation. A touching scene to say the least.

Our next stop was lake Nicaragua. We were headed out to an island for dinner. There were several little islands that sat off the coast from Granada. They were created when Mombacho erupted sending giant rocks from its belly into the water. Many of the little islands have become little personal sanctuaries for Nicaragua's rich and for a few rental properties. Osmond, who has never been to the states, pointed the splendor of these manors out. They were very cool, but not nearly as big or extravagant as you might expect.

"You know how much that big one over there costs?" Osmond asked pointing to one of the nicer manors.

"How much?" we asked.

"Guess."

"I dunno ... a million dollars?"

"No! Wow," Osmund said, apparently a little surprised at our figure.

"I dunno man, how much?"

"Four hundred THOUSAND dollars," he said.

"Oh wow, that's not bad," we replied.

This apparently took Osmond aback a bit.

"No, no, no, not four HUNDRED dollars. For hundred THOUSAND dollars," he said apparently trying to reemphasize his point.

We explained to Osmond that in Washington DC, $400,000 might buy you a small house in a crummy neighborhood. I think we shattered his soul a little with this fact.

We pulled the boat next to an island and Osmond yelled an order to a gentleman standing near the dock. While they cooked our food, Osmond was going to take us to an island close by where there were monkeys.

Not sure how the monkeys got there, but they were there and rad in full effect. A few capuchin and spider monkeys lived there, but Osmond and the boat drivers knew that Panchetta, one of the spider monkeys, was the friendliest. As we pulled the boat up, she jumped aboard. We would all get a little quality time with the monkey sitting on our laps. She was a real sweat heart. At one point one of the other monkeys attempted to get aboard and the boat operator quickly guided the craft away. Apparently there are assholes in the monkey kingdom too. Happy that we had checked the monkey-on-our-lap block in the trip, we said goodbye to our new friend and went to dinner.

Dinner was some pan-fried fish and rice. It was really good after the long Mombacho hike. Full and satisfied we took the boat back to the shores of Granada while the sun set over the city. A beautiful boat ride. As I let my hand drag in the water, I remembered that Lake Nicaragua was home to the world's only fresh water shark. No pumas. No sharks. Life was good. Back ashore some young boys raced for our dollars making us palm sculptures.

We had one more stop to make in the evening. I had heard that Nicaragua was home to some of the world's best cigars. I'm not a huge cigar smoker, but I like them from time to time and I knew my step dad would like some. So Osmond took us to what he called the best cigar shop in Granada. It was dark when we pulled up and the place looked empty. Most of the doors in Nicaragua have iron "screen" doors to keep ventilation going during the hot night.

"They looked closed dude," I said.

"They'll open for me," Osmond replied.

He banged on the door and yelled something in Spanish. A woman appeared and after a brief conversation opened the door for some after-hour customers. We walked into a beautiful Spanish-style villa with the front room being their shop. Above the main display counter was a blown up picture of the owner smoking a cigar with Arnold Schwarzenegger. Off in a dark corner several folks were crowded around a glowing TV. The owner soon appeared. He turned out to be super awesome. He spent many years living in California, had a daughter who was an officer in the US Air Force and was the former mayor of Granada. He was proud of his new venture and gave us some cigars and soda to sample while we shopped and chatted. He was very excited that his cigar was currently number one on cigars.com. He even got one of the TV watchers who was also one of the rollers to pull out some of the tobacco, which was grown at the base of Mombacho, and demonstrate cigar rolling. She gave us all turns rolling our own cigars. They pressed them for us and gave them to us as souvenirs before we left. Smoking a cigar you rolled yourself earns your bragging rights. He was a proud, very cool gentleman and we were grateful for his time and generosity.

It was a full day and we made sure Osmond knew how much we enjoyed it before he took off. We would talk to him a couple more times before we left. Once to arrange a ride and once because he just wanted to make sure we were enjoying his country. We said goodbye, enjoyed a few drinks on the patio before heading to bed as a huge thunderstorm rolled through. We were headed to San Juan del Sur the next day.