Nicaragua 2

The next stop in our whirlwind tour of Central America is Granada. We arrive knowing it's a colonial town and the tourist hub of Nicaragua, which is helped by being only an hour from the notoriously dangerous capital of Managua. We've had our fair share of colonial towns by now, but each has it's own feel. Granada is very small and we see a lot of the town in an afternoon checking out the sights. 

Barber where George indulges in a $2 haircut

Happy cows

With only a short time available to us, we decide to hire bikes and venture out along the shores of Lago Nicaragua. We find ourselves biking down a dirt road through farmland, howler monkey laden jungle and swamps full of crocodiles. The few people we pass are carrying machetes and we wonder if we're in the wrong place (the 'map' provided by the bike hire man is light on details). Our fears are eased as everyone greets us with big smiles and a friendly 'buenas tardes'. At some point the road becomes a track and petered out into a murky lake. I decided it looked inviting but a few steps down things took a treacherous turn and the slimy steps got the better of me. After rag-dolling down a few steps I find myself in waist-deep water while George tries to not to laugh. It was a squelchy ride home.

Peligroso. Mucho.

Streets of Granada

Hammock making in progress

Somewhere on our travels we have heard of the Somoto canyon. It's right on the Honduras border and George has his heart set on swimming down it. We bus from Granada to nearby Esteli in cowboy country - the primary industries here are beef and tobacco. It is also the place where we find the best street food of our trip so far - a delicious meal of spicy bbq pork, rice, beans, salad and tortillas that comes in at just under $2 each. Needless to say, we return there the next night for dinner. 

It is also the place where we have our best chicken bus experience to date. Chicken buses are something of a legend to travelers in central america. We've ridden a few of these ex-american school buses (picture the magic school bus) along the way but nothing tops this experience. Jammed in the rear door when the bus slows at our stop, we know it's going to be packed. We didn't know we'd spend the next hour hanging on for dear life with about 10 others out the open back door. 

More happy cows

All in one piece, we are happy to arrive at canyon entrance. We see 2 other travelers with a guide and ask if we can tag along with them. They're more than happy, as is their guide for the extra business. We set off armed with life jackets, a dry bag and our new $2 nicaraguan crocs. We are grateful for these as we walk to the canyon through the dry and rocky countryside. Coming down to a pretty tame looking stream with cows happily grazing beside it, at first sight it doesn't appear like my idea of canyoning… We follow our guide down the river. The banks soon turn to cliffs and close in around us and the water is deeper and faster. The highlight for me is jumping off an 8m cliff (see below). Though maybe not for George as he waits in the freezing water below while I take my time deciding whether it's a good idea or not.

Never thought I'd be so happy to be back in freezing water

Collecting an errant football from across the river

You may have noticed we've fallen a bit behind. One more sleep and we are on the plane home! 

The plan of bringing this up to date was struck a blow by Cuba's lack of internet (where we've spent the past 2 weeks) and our wishful thinking that our trip was never-ending. With any luck we might get further posts out at the airport. Looking forward to seeing some friends and family again soon!

xN&G

Nicaragua 1

Today, as I was drafting a particularly venomous message to my credit card company about a stalled insurance claim, I noticed an anonymous payment has been made into my account. The claim money has finally come through. After two months of increasingly terse correspondence about the claim, I'd expected the company would be desperate to tell me the matter was closed. But there has been nothing. No email, no fanfare, no declaration of their extraordinary generosity, just $200 dropped unceremoniously into my account on the back of my 3 unanswered messages. That they failed to inform me of this should come as no surprise, of course, because I've discovered in the whole drawn-out process that there's no limit to their ineptitude.

Rice drying in a courtyard, Balgue village, Isla Ometepe

That the company offered 'stolen card protection' was always curious to me. Bundled into a package of other benefits - zero international withdrawal fees, theft & damage insurance on items purchased, refunds on the difference of items that go on sale after you've bought them - it seemed like the ideal travel card and this episode aside, it's been great. 

When the time came to make a claim after being pick pocketed in Ecuador, I had a quick look at the contract guff. It noted, 'if your card is stolen, we'll pay $200 just for the inconvenience'. Sounded simple, only I hadn't counted on the inconvenience being dealing with their staff. I've spent over an hour on hold, spoken to half the sub-continent, been directed to non-existent websites and had non-applicable forms sent to me. I've filed forms only to have them returned because the format wasn't suitable and had letters delivered to my home address, despite telling them I'm traveling numerous times. 

Arriving at the lodge after a sweaty climb up the hill. It was hot.

In one of their most frustrating messages they informed me that my unique claim number was 'TBA' and insisted all future correspondence quoted this number and should be made by post or fax. All their messages were suffixed with the infuriating slogan, 'Imagination at Work'. I said I didn't have access to a fax, but that imagination was at work in South America too and would it be possible to photograph a copy of the police report and send it by email? I was still waiting for an answer to that question when the payment was made.

For a service pitched at travelers they make it very difficult to claim from overseas. Whether they deliberately make the process obstructive by employing morons, I'm not sure. Certainly it would deter people with less spare time than I have from following through with a claim. But most people who have less spare time than me probably earn more than me too. Because for us, $200 represents 100% of our earnings for FY12. And we probably make it stretch further also. In Nicaragua, where we arrive after making a brief stopover in Costa Rica, $200 equates to a week of living expenses - for the two of us. So well worth the effort.

It goes so far that we're able to 'splash-out', by Nicaraguan standards at least, on a $10/night dorm at a luxury ecolodge on Isla Ometepe. The site for the lodge is spectacular: perched on the lower slopes of Vulcan Maderas in the middle of Lake Nicaragua with views out over neighboring Vulcan Concepcion. Ometepe is formed entirely of these two volcanoes which merge at their base to form one island on Central America's largest lake. The pace of life here is slow and the people remain unjaded to travelers because there's relatively little tourist presence. Agriculture is still the way of life and the locals are friendly and welcoming. 

View from deck chair at our lodge

Venturing out in the heat

Swimming at Ojo de Agua - Eye of Water, a natural spring on the island

We make no plans in particular for our 4 days here, except to climb to the crater of the volcano, but again our luck with this is bad. The weather clouds in on the morning we hope to climb and the tour guide arrives at the lodge soaking wet to tell us the bad news. It's the third time we've missed out on doing a volcano climb after failed attempts in Chile and Ecuador due to rainy weather. Naturally the weather improves almost immediately after the guide has left and stays clear for the rest of our time. We decide that it's just not meant to be and settle for some less strenuous walks around the beach with bodegas serving gallo pinto, Nicaragua's take on rice'n'beans, and cold bottles of cerveza at convenient points along the way.

Irrigation man

Hitching a ride in the tray of a ute

At night the sounds of the bush are brought to our open-walled, thatched roof dorm. Under the protection of a mosquito net (I still find this exciting, like a 5 year old building forts with furniture. Knowing the blood sucking bastards can't get inside is also reassuring given that neither of us are taking malarias pills) we can hear howler monkeys roar in the trees. Gorillas could be plotting a coup of the lodge such is the noise, but by daylight the howler monkeys can be seen in the trees and are not much bigger than a teddy bear. All of which is in keeping with our guidebook description of Isla Ometepe: 'a place that belongs in fairytales or fantasy novels'. This feels about right. Just another place to jostle for position in our highlights reel.

xN&G

Panama

Tankers wait in the harbour for passage through the canal

Arriving in Panama brings a new feeling of excitement for both of us. Whereas our time in South America had been researched and roughy mapped out before we left, Central America is the complete unknown. It'd had never been in the original plans to make it this far north and it's a late change to avoid expensive flights to Mexico. Admittedly Nic has been the driving force on the research front, but Ecuador aside, we've both had at least some idea about the places we were visiting and when. 

Because of this I've been a bit dismissive of travelers whose pre-holiday research didn't extend beyond the airline website. Surely there's added enjoyment with at least some expectation of what you're seeing and doing? Our experiences at Machu Picchu or Torres del Paine, or any number of other places suggests so. And the memory of a clueless traveller we met in Vietnam, who fell into every tourist trap imaginable after boarding the outward flight straight from his goodbye drinks is a good warning to do at least the bare minimum of background work.

But I'm starting to think there're some advantages to traveling blindly to a new destination. Just like the expectations of New Years Eve often weighs down the night, the guidebook hype or photoshopped pictures can sell something that real-life can't deliver. The hawkers and touts, stifling humidity or rubbish strewn streets - these things are left out of the descriptions. It's not that any of these omissions can ever be endearing, but the real attraction of a new place tends to shine through in spite of these factors when expectations haven't been driven up. So with flights to Cuba flying out from Cancun in just under 6 weeks, we disembark in Panama with almost zero idea how we'll make the 3000km journey to Mexico. We're officially ignorant tourists and it's exciting. 

Miraflores lock

At this point I note that my knowledge of central american geography is awful. I know Mexico sits at the top of the map and dwarfs its neighbors to the south. I know that Panama occupies the skinny bit at the bottom because this is the logical place to build a canal. But the rest of the countries muddled in the middle, to my uneducated mind at least, have spent their entire history recovering alternately from either civil war or natural disasters. The very little I know about Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, Nicaragua and Costa Rica was fed to me by Judy Bailey at 6pm news time. I need to find the middle ground between ignorance and over expectation.

It's with some luck then that the first people we meet in our hostel have spent the last year traveling solely in Central America. They're rushing out the door to the airport but there's just enough time for them to condense their epic itinerary into a few personal highlights. Even luckier is that they're headed to Colombia and so it's a chance to ditch the Lonely Planet South America in exchange for the less brick-like Central America version. I start educating myself about places that were formerly just a wiggly line on the map.

Panama City comes across as a strange mix of South America and the Middle East. The latin-american influences are obvious and expected, but it's peculiar to see modern skyscrapers alongside traditional markets. It bills itself as the most cosmopolitan city of Central America and the Dubai of the Western Hemisphere. It's a safe feeling introduction to Central American capital cities which, as I begin to learn about in the LP, are not the best places to roam. Like Ecuador, its primary currency is the US dollar and the american influence is noticeable also. It's not love at first sight but there's enough happening to keep us busy for a few days. 

Pilfered from another blog because we didn't have anything better of the skyline 

It's a sloth. Near desperation point after not seeing one in 6 months in South America, Nic spots it on arrival at Bocas.

This includes a visit to the Panama Canal, which I'm very keen to see despite feeling a lack of enthusiasm on Nic's part. It's impressive to see huge tankers passing through the narrow locks but the displays and video are a bit light on info to keep me interested. Surprisingly Nic seems to take a lot more from it than I do, which just affirms my new thoughts on trying to travel without preconceptions.

Spotted red dart frog, native to Isla Bastimentos. The size of a thumbnail he narrowly avoids falling under my shoe.

Selling coconuts to the few beachgoers at Bastimentos

We depart from Panama City to the Caribbean islands of Bocas del Toro, close to the border with Costa Rica and 600km closer to Mexico. Bocas del Toro, we read on the bus, is a collection of several islands and a popular backpacker spot. But relatively fresh from our time in San Blas the main island fails to meet up to the Caribbean dream. There's hardly a beach to speak of and the waterfront is surrounded by mangroves. For me, mangroves fall under the same category as birds and clowns - complete irrational fear.

Thankfully only 15min by water taxi is Isla Bastimentos which couldn't be more different to dirty Isla Colon. Cheap accommodation (a failed resort that's been converted to a hostel) on an otherwise mostly vacant, jungle island. Mangroves at a minimum. Four days of reading on the beach mixed in with swimming, eating and drinking. Paradise found again. 

xN&G

5 days on the Caribbean Sea

From Cartagena to the San Blas islands of Panama takes 30 hours of blue water sailing. Despite the assurances of our Italian skipper Eduardo, I sense this is a less than typical crossing. Riding down into the troughs of the swell the waves pass beneath the boat and crunch the hulls on the way through, before rising up in front of us and then appearing again nearly half-way up the mast. The mainsail is reefed twice and still we manage 12 knots. Nicolino, the cook, is courageously preparing a meal when he narrowly escapes injury as the knife block is sent flying across the room. It leaves a hole in the side of the wood panelling. 

Dinner and lunch are restaurant quality which is especially remarkable given the conditions, but of the 12 people aboard Nic and I are the only ones who manage to keep both meals down. Retiring to the master cabin (graciously awarded to us by Eduardo with the remark, "for the New Zealand couple, because you travel the furthest to be here") it's like trying to sleep inside a bass drum as the waves pound against the side of the boat. This wasn't on the glossy brochure.

Farewell Cartagena

Sponsored by Napisan

Camera was on underwater mode so the colours came out a bit strange. You get the idea.

The next morning and things have improved slightly but still there's precious free space to sit without being caught in the deluge of the breaking waves. The passengers who opted not to pay for one of the 6 cabins have spent a damp and sleepless night on the squabs of the deck benching. The seas remain like this for most of the morning and the spirits of everyone on board are at a low ebb. But the mood picks up when the coast of Panama comes faintly into view and at some point after this the seas flatten and the wind dies down. Only nobody notices this because palm trees and white sand and turquoise waters have now appeared also. 

Buon Vento

Woman from the Kuna tribes native to the islands

The San Blas archipelago is made up of around 400 mostly un-inhabited islands about 40 miles off the coast of Panama. Three days pass as we cruise between various islands, shipwrecks and reefs. We swim and snorkel and return to the boat only when Nicolino rings the dinner bell for fresh pasta or risotto. Given a kitchen bench that stays horizontal he puts together meals that defy the tiny space and facilities. My own experiences of cooking on charter boats are put to shame. This is what cruise ship food should be, not the stodgy spag bol I served up as clueless 19 year old!

The Caribbean lives up to everything we expected. I won't waste a thousand words trying to describe why. When we disembark in Panama that familiar feeling rolls in that always accompanies us after leaving somewhere special - were we ever really there? The third degree sunburn on my back says yes. 

Special thanks to the Coopers who gifted us the proceeds of a sold cow that contributed to this sail trip. A moment of luxury travel amongst all those bus rides!

Thanks also to everyone for the birthday wishes yesterday. Was spoilt by Nic and had an amazing day. More from Panama and the Caribbean soon, ish.

xN&G 

Goodbye South America. For now.

Dancing in the streets of Cartagena

To Cartagena on Colombia's Caribbean coast is a 12 hour bus ride from Medellin. This journey tips the scales of our total bussed hours over the 350 mark, nearly 15 days. It's reassuring in an unusual way because I sometimes worry that bad bus travel too often becomes the subject of these posts. This figure justifies things a little; bus trips make up 10% of our holiday time so things aren't too out of proportion. For those reading this on their phone on a busy tram and under a sweaty armpit or popping out from a tube station into the 3.30 gloom, this is the closest thing to common ground. And as one traveller pointed out to me in a conversation about travel writing, 'no-one wants to hear about the good shit'. Disaster stories make for better reading; let the photos of exotic beaches, mountains and cities show the full picture.

That's not to say all bus journeys are as tiresome as the daily commute. I've come to enjoy the time spent on buses, provided a few important criteria are met and it can sometimes be a relaxing even productive aspect of traveling cheaply. We read a lot, plan our days and get lost in the things happening out the window. But too often it's marred by someone doing the due diligence on their ringtone inventory or Freddie Mercury reminding me over the bus PA that he's under pressure. Presumably from the weight of cold air being blasted from an air conditioner set to snap freeze. Or a seat that won't hold its recline and slingshots forward intermittently through the night.

The old city is surrounded by a wall built out of coral to protect from Jack Sparrow and his cohort

Unfortunately this trip suffers from most of these symptoms and we arrive in Cartagena weary and with stiff necks. The immediate prospects for a good night sleep don't look good either as we've left our booking to the last minute, it's two days before New Years and the city is crammed with travelers and holidaying Colombians. We have to settle for a poky, airless room at inflated rates but reconcile it with the thought that NY's isn't really about sleeping anyway.

Toilet come jacuzzi

The revitalizing properties of a cold shower, fizzy coke and a full stomach are a good medicine for bad bus trips and this is no different. Coupled with all the activity in the Cartagena old city, busy preparing itself for NYE, any lingering travel fatigue is washed away. 

Without wanting to mix superlatives and colonial cities (Central America is sure to throw up some good examples) Cartagena easily beats anything we've seen in terms of beauty and preservation. Paraty, Sucre and Cusco can get in line. Will I be shot if I use the words charming and colourful to describe a colonial town yet again? If so, then I take back what I've written previously and save it for Cartagena because it deserves exclusive rights to these descriptions and any others I made. What adds to the atmosphere is that it's our first taste of the Caribbean and even though the beach here is just OK by Australian standards, there's something about the 'C' word, the palms in the backdrop and the local's lilting english that gives it a lift.

If all these things weren't enough to keep us happy for 5 days there's also New Year Eve. We're lucky to have the good company of some friends we met in Salento to celebrate with, in addition to the thousands of happy Colombians and others that flood the cobbled streets on the night. It's a party atmosphere to match any big NYE celebration around the world with bars and cafes spilling onto the streets and plenty of salsa and fireworks for entertainment. The end of 2011, the end of a year to remember and one we won't forget too soon. And when familial alzheimer's kicks in there will always be the nearly 5000 photos we've taken to draw on.

The most disappointing part about of our visit to Cartagena is that we're finally able to get some information about departure dates for boats sailing to Panama and the news is inconvenient. They're nearly all departing in the first few days of January with nothing else confirmed later in the month. Our plans to head further up the coast of Colombia for a week are scuppered as we've been looking forward to this sail trip for some time and don't want to pass up the opportunity. (On a whim we booked flights to Cuba for mid-Feb which fly out of Mexico. By far the cheapest option into Cuba, only we didn't count on flights to Mexico from Colombia being astronomically expensive. In light of this we're hoping to travel overland through Central America to Mexico instead.) 

Looking back from the yacht as we sail out from Cartagena the coastline and finally the high-rise buildings of the new city gradually disappear from view. We're in the open sea. I realise that we've left South America, our home for the past 5 months. Nic and I share a nostalgic moment or two, but it's a queasy thought because the boat is pitching and rolling heavily. Where did the last 5 months go?! Nevermind that, fetch me my sick bag.

xN&G