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