Saturday, January 23, 2010 -- TRAVEL DAY TO GRANADA

Woke and had a good breakfast (scrambled, toast, fruit). Walked a bit on the beach and then caught the 9:30 bus right outside the Esperanza compound. It was the El Carmen—same red-painted school bus and same driver we’d arrived on from Chinandega. A Brit and a girl from Maine caught the bus with us and sat in the seat in front of ours. The bus was crowded, hot, and dusty for the 2-hour ride to Chinandega.

Street dogs worry a couple of cattle on the beach

In Chinandega we and the Brit and the Down-easter crammed ourselves and gear into a tiny taxi bound for the central mini-bus station. There we said goodbye to the two girls and caught a comfortably uncrowded mini-bus (with religious decals on its windows) for the two-and-a-half-hour ride to Managua.

In Managua, we caught another taxi to another mini-bus station and boarded a crowded mini-bus (or so we thought) to Granada, but this mini-bus turned out to be a collectiva. The young ticket taker hung out the open door and yelled, “Granada! Granada!” at each bus stop, loading on passenger after passenger when it appeared there was absolutely not an inch of room left. Jess and I were sitting behind the driver’s seat. In front of us was a small humped ledge where the motor was—or so I assume. At various times this ledge had wedged onto it facing us several young men, and once a woman who had to climb over a young man to crouch in the center position. Jessica’s knees and hers alternated as tight as teeth in a comb. This risqué position brought a small smile from her, and she appeared relieved when Jess shifted both legs to her right. After a cramped and uncomfortable two hours, we finally arrived in Granada, right at Parque Colón.

Jess buying a little something for a bus ride; six hours of our day were

taken up with buses and mini-buses and taxis getting from Jiquilillo north of Chinandega

 to Granada to the south on Lake Nicaragua

First order of business was to find a Banõ for me. Jess waited in the square on a park bench while I hobbled on my swollen and sore feet across it to the Alhambra Hotel and it’s American-style bathroom. Then we set off to get rid of our backpacks at a mid-range hostel—Estancia Mar Dulce on Calle La Calzada—which we’d chosen from the Lonely Planet. (Calle La Calzada turned out to be the main tourist restaurant street). We were hoping for a room poolside and the hot water showers written up in LP. But, there were no vacancies available.

We returned to Parque Colón and Jess parked me while she went to investigate a couple of other Lonely Planet possibilities. We ended up in a small hostel on a side street that was not in LP. It had hot showers, however, and Jess liked the vibes that the women who ran it sent out.  We were welcomed and ushered to a small back corner room that smelled of mildew. I jumped into the shower. When I got out, Jess decided that the room was too musty, so moved us to the room next door, which was a little better.

Jess showered and then we strolled the pastel streets of this most touristy town in Nicaragua. We found a restaurant not too far away on Calle La Calzada and shared a Greek Salad. Then I had a curried chicken crêpe and a bowl of gazpacho soup and Jess had chicken fajitas and a couple of rum drinks. The gazpacho was so-so, not nearly as good as the bowl of it I had in Leon. I ended with a cup of coffee. Nica coffee is very good.

Internet photo of Calle Calzada during the day before the restaurants and shops open

A blurry Internet photo of the Calle Calzada at night with the tourists packed into every restaurant

While sitting at our outside table, kids and adults were trying to sell us food, hammocks, vases, music, jewelry, sunglasses, etc. One group of strolling troubadours serenaded us close-up and comically. I bought a small owl whistle from a young girl. Jess bought a CD of Nicaraguan music to use on her radio station.

Back at the room, we organized a bit, and then Jess went out to ride a bicycle about (the hostel had several free bicycles for loan) and to be shed of mother for a bit. She has been most solicitous, but I fear my limitations are limiting her hiking, night life, and energy now that she has recovered from her walking pneumonia. I stayed in the room with the fan on me, nursing my feet, and writing in this journal.

Jess back at 10:30 pm. She LOVED her bike ride (later categorized it as one of the most fun moments of the trip). Said she rode all around the city as fast as she could, sometimes picking up locals who wanted to pace her. She ended her evening in a bar on the corner of our street, and after dropping the bike and checking in with me, she was set to go out drinking with a couple of men she’d met there. The women who ran the hostel talked her out of it. I was thankful.