Today was #1, a trip, and #2, a total TRIP. Double meaning there get it? We wrapped up our stay at Playa Hermosa with a late night party last night - stayed up till 11pm playing dominoes with two new friends from Bellingham, WA. This morning, we took the shuttle into San Juan del Sur, and then hopped aboard another shuttle that took us to San Jorge, where the ferry port is. Within ten minutes we were some of the last few people to board the 40 year old transport vessel, and we were soon after transformed into human sardines. I considered our fortune that today will likely be the closest experience we ever have to traveling as refugees. God help them.
Nic and I had planned to take the noon ferry but when we got to San Jorge, a greeter type man told us if we hurried, we could jump aboard the 10:30am boat, so we did. By the time we were herded on through the four cars boarding the boat and then squeezed through two decks of church-like pews completely filled with passengers, it seemed the only space available for two additional passengers was standing sandwiched together without moving in front of a wodden door marked as the women's bathroom. An additional problem was that, with the 120 gallon Patagonia monstrosities strapped to our backs, we really needed travel space for about 3.75 people.
I thought I had read that the ferry cost 10 dollars per person, but then the man told us it was two dollars/person. Hot deal! When I got off the ferry an hour later though, I almost felt we had been overcharged for the experience provided. Granted, it did serve it's purpose as transport to the exotic volcano island on which we are now staying - Ometepe! Therefore I will focus on description over criticism.
After a minute of blocking the women's bathroom, I squeezed out to a side railing and asked the other sardines if there was any way they could make just a little more room, and they did. The big boat lurched away from the dock, and it was skin to skin contact for friends and strangers alike for the remainder of the trip.
I decided to err on the side of motion sick cautiousness and took a Dramamine as soon as the boat embarked. Although this turned out well for me, I should have also passed some around to the family of three dolled up Latinos sandwiched directly to my left. Fortunately, as Nic stated, the only obvious perk of the romantic ferry ride was "bolsas included" (shopping bags used for throwing up!). It also turned out that, while our station barricading the women's bano seemed less than ideal, the putrid stench wafting out of the men's bathroom vent, which was right next to our new position, was indeed very far from ideal as well.
Still, we survived the sixty minute voyage stacked among some quiet Americans, the flamboyant Latino women puking into their bolsas, and a man who got sick once and then just straight sat down on the deck, completely blocking the entrance to the cabin for the rest of the ride. There was also one American woman with a fanny pack, backpack, and umbrella who was wearing a complete khaki and navy blue Land's End travel uniform. Nic called her Mary Poppins. She displayed behavior such as a complete misunderstanding that she had to pay and also asked one of the puking Latinas in English if she wouldn't mind holding her hair out of the way blowing in the wind so Mary Poppins could get a better photo of the volcano. Ay carumba.
Once we docked at the island, in the town of Moyogalpa, Nic and I stumbled off, dazed. ACtually, I was especially dazed since I had forgotten I took the Dramamine and couldn't figure out why I felt like I was sleepwalking. Still, we packed our bags up a few blocks and turned down a side street to find a quaint little pizza joint with lots of cool plants, some kids playing and a woman straightening her hair inside at one of the tables. One grande pepperoni pizza and some Frescas frías did the trick - we headed back to the ferry port to try to nab a taxi to our "hotel ecologico."
We paid ten dollars to ride three miles to the hotel in a type of motorcycle rickshaw, which I first avoided soliciting because I thought there was no way the thing could carry us AND our bags. But it did so, and down a road I can only compare to the steepest ATV tracks I walk out at the Green Gate trails. So, ten dollars well spent.
First, La Tierra Blanca hotel looked like some dirt and some shacks, but we came to appreciate it more throughout the evening. It is right on the lake, but doesn't really have swimming access, although there is an incredible view of the Concepcion volcano from the shoreline. There are some fantastic jungle trees as well, which Nic took photos of, and also these things called howler monkeys that make a loud sound that is somewhere between a commercial toilet flushing and a wolverine tearing apart sheet metal.
For better or worse, I spent the remainder of the afternoon semiconscious on the bed in our room, half asleep and feeling drugged. Nic reminded me that I had indeed been drugged, by myself, at the start of the ferry ride, which I kept forgetting. So then I felt less inadequate about the lack of activity upon arrival.
The hosts here speak only Spanish, and it is different from mainland Nicaragua. They drop all the "s"s off the ends of the words, so we are in Room #Tre (tres), we were told dinner would be a la sei (seis) and Nicolas is "Nicola". I had a very hard time understanding and communicating, but we managed to be patient, and go with the flow. We passed the time before dinner playing grocery store with two adorable ninos, David and Mariana, who didn't care if we understood what they were saying or not. An hour after we were told dinner was to be served, plates of homemade lasagna arrived with rice and fried banana slices. The atmosphere was very nice: lots of people eating in groups along a long table. We sat with a couple in their late fifties from the San Franciso area. They spoke English with us, although they are both native Spanish speakers. They were HILARIOUS, their interactions were like scenes from a sitcom, so as we relaxed, we enjoyed their company very much. They invited us to join them on a tour of the island tomorrow, which we might do since we have no plans yet.
I also fed a good portion of my dinner to a cat that was as skinny as Winnie Wee used to be. And we saw a lot of fireflies in the grass down by the lake. A trip, this trip is. Love to all and more news soon!
Today was #1, a trip, and #2, a total TRIP. Double meaning there get it? We wrapped up our stay at Playa Hermosa with a late night party last night - stayed up till 11pm playing dominoes with two new friends from Bellingham, WA. This morning, we took the shuttle into San Juan del Sur, and then hopped aboard another shuttle that took us to San Jorge, where the ferry port is. Within ten minutes we were some of the last few people to board the 40 year old transport vessel, and we were soon after transformed into human sardines. I considered our fortune that today will likely be the closest experience we ever have to traveling as refugees. God help them.
Nic and I had planned to take the noon ferry but when we got to San Jorge, a greeter type man told us if we hurried, we could jump aboard the 10:30am boat, so we did. By the time we were herded on through the four cars boarding the boat and then squeezed through two decks of church-like pews completely filled with passengers, it seemed the only space available for two additional passengers was standing sandwiched together without moving in front of a wodden door marked as the women's bathroom. An additional problem was that, with the 120 gallon Patagonia monstrosities strapped to our backs, we really needed travel space for about 3.75 people.
I thought I had read that the ferry cost 10 dollars per person, but then the man told us it was two dollars/person. Hot deal! When I got off the ferry an hour later though, I almost felt we had been overcharged for the experience provided. Granted, it did serve it's purpose as transport to the exotic volcano island on which we are now staying - Ometepe! Therefore I will focus on description over criticism.
After a minute of blocking the women's bathroom, I squeezed out to a side railing and asked the other sardines if there was any way they could make just a little more room, and they did. The big boat lurched away from the dock, and it was skin to skin contact for friends and strangers alike for the remainder of the trip.
I decided to err on the side of motion sick cautiousness and took a Dramamine as soon as the boat embarked. Although this turned out well for me, I should have also passed some around to the family of three dolled up Latinos sandwiched directly to my left. Fortunately, as Nic stated, the only obvious perk of the romantic ferry ride was "bolsas included" (shopping bags used for throwing up!). It also turned out that, while our station barricading the women's bano seemed less than ideal, the putrid stench wafting out of the men's bathroom vent, which was right next to our new position, was indeed very far from ideal as well.
Still, we survived the sixty minute voyage stacked among some quiet Americans, the flamboyant Latino women puking into their bolsas, and a man who got sick once and then just straight sat down on the deck, completely blocking the entrance to the cabin for the rest of the ride. There was also one American woman with a fanny pack, backpack, and umbrella who was wearing a complete khaki and navy blue Land's End travel uniform. Nic called her Mary Poppins. She displayed behavior such as a complete misunderstanding that she had to pay and also asked one of the puking Latinas in English if she wouldn't mind holding her hair out of the way blowing in the wind so Mary Poppins could get a better photo of the volcano. Ay carumba.
Once we docked at the island, in the town of Moyogalpa, Nic and I stumbled off, dazed. ACtually, I was especially dazed since I had forgotten I took the Dramamine and couldn't figure out why I felt like I was sleepwalking. Still, we packed our bags up a few blocks and turned down a side street to find a quaint little pizza joint with lots of cool plants, some kids playing and a woman straightening her hair inside at one of the tables. One grande pepperoni pizza and some Frescas frías did the trick - we headed back to the ferry port to try to nab a taxi to our "hotel ecologico."
We paid ten dollars to ride three miles to the hotel in a type of motorcycle rickshaw, which I first avoided soliciting because I thought there was no way the thing could carry us AND our bags. But it did so, and down a road I can only compare to the steepest ATV tracks I walk out at the Green Gate trails. So, ten dollars well spent.
First, La Tierra Blanca hotel looked like some dirt and some shacks, but we came to appreciate it more throughout the evening. It is right on the lake, but doesn't really have swimming access, although there is an incredible view of the Concepcion volcano from the shoreline. There are some fantastic jungle trees as well, which Nic took photos of, and also these things called howler monkeys that make a loud sound that is somewhere between a commercial toilet flushing and a wolverine tearing apart sheet metal.
For better or worse, I spent the remainder of the afternoon semiconscious on the bed in our room, half asleep and feeling drugged. Nic reminded me that I had indeed been drugged, by myself, at the start of the ferry ride, which I kept forgetting. So then I felt less inadequate about the lack of activity upon arrival.
The hosts here speak only Spanish, and it is different from mainland Nicaragua. They drop all the "s"s off the ends of the words, so we are in Room #Tre (tres), we were told dinner would be a la sei (seis) and Nicolas is "Nicola". I had a very hard time understanding and communicating, but we managed to be patient, and go with the flow. We passed the time before dinner playing grocery store with two adorable ninos, David and Mariana, who didn't care if we understood what they were saying or not. An hour after we were told dinner was to be served, plates of homemade lasagna arrived with rice and fried banana slices. The atmosphere was very nice: lots of people eating in groups along a long table. We sat with a couple in their late fifties from the San Franciso area. They spoke English with us, although they are both native Spanish speakers. They were HILARIOUS, their interactions were like scenes from a sitcom, so as we relaxed, we enjoyed their company very much. They invited us to join them on a tour of the island tomorrow, which we might do since we have no plans yet.
I also fed a good portion of my dinner to a cat that was as skinny as Winnie Wee used to be. And we saw a lot of fireflies in the grass down by the lake. A trip, this trip is. Love to all and more news soon!
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