Boat trip around Bocas

We finally gave in to Erick's sales pitch and decided to take him up on the snorkel/trip around the islands package. We had breakfast at the Golden Grill (the closest equivalent to Golden Griddle back home, not only in name but also in their menu). While we were on the main street we met up with Erick and made plans for him to meet us back at the hotel around 9:30. He had initially told us the trip would be a small group of around 10, but by the time we got to the dock, we realized the boat was packed, a total of 16 people, though I guess that wouldn’t matter onceWe finally gave in to Erick's sales pitch and decided to take him up on the snorkel/trip around the islands package. We had breakfast at the Golden Grill (the closest equivalent to Golden Griddle back home, not only in name but also in we went snorkeling. The boat left Bocas and headed towards our first destination, Dolphin Bay. It was quite a long boat ride, and after the fact, looking at a map, I learned that we were very close to the mainland. We passed many other little islands along the way, some nothing more than a few green bushes and trees sticking out of the water.

Once we got into dolphin bay we did a few circles around until we saw a group of dolphins appear on the surface. That gave us an idea of where they were and where they were heading to, so, along with a few other boats already there, we started to slowly chase them and to get closer to them. I tried to take some photos, but this wasn’t Marineland and they didn’t exactly stop to pause for pictures or give you a kiss on the cheek – these dolphins were in the wild and they were moving very fast. After about half an hour of moving around Dolphin Bay, we picked up speed and retraced out steps to on of the other islands we had already passed by on our way in. Here we stopped at a restaurant, which was all built on stilts, where we had to order our lunch before going out snorkeling. We already came somewhat prepared, since Erick told us they have a cooler and ice on board the boat, so we already had some beers and some snacks. We still ordered a few chicken and fish fingers, just to have something warm for lunch for after our swim. All there was in this complex were two buildings built over the water, one housing the restaurant and the other a convenience store, connected by a plank walkway. After we all placed our orders, we got back to the boat and headed to Coral Cay.

I was impressed with the clarity of the water since I could see the corals and the fish before we even disembarked. We all got our snorkel gear, and as we were putting it on, we observed so many fish swimming right by the dock. It was already turning out to be a very hot and sunny day, so it was a relief to get in the water to cool off. We spent the next hour exploring the coral reefs, with all of its shapes and colors, and seeing so many fish that I could not have the time to describe them all. Kellie and Eric took a lot of pictures with their waterproof camera, so I will add a few of them on here once I receive it from them. We were watching entire schools of fish, not disturbed by our presence, moving around and doing their thing. Towards the end of the snorkeling trip, as we got back on the dock, we watched as someone took a bag of tortilla chips, crumbled them in his hand, and then dropped them into the water. The ensuing fight was amazing to watch as the fish battled for the food, so much so that some were even jumping over the others and out of the water. It was very entertaining, and soon everyone gathered around to watch the spectacle.

We returned to the restaurant, and sat on the dock for a while – once we realized that most people had already gotten their food, Tristen went up to enquire about our order, and it is a good thing she did since they had forgotten about it. While we were waiting for our food, it started to drip a few drops of rain, though it was still sunny at all times. We did get our food, and finished it just in time for us to get back in the boat to head to our next destination: Red Frog Beach. Red Frog is on private property, and as far as I know the only beach around Bocas which charges an admission fee. Yet, wanting to see what the fuss was all about, we paid our two dollar entrance, and took the brief walk through the rainforest, crossing Isla Bastimentos. Along the way there were kids holding big green leaves with little red frogs that give the beach its name. For a small fee, they would let you take photographs of them as a memento. Prior to arriving at the beach, we passed by a small laguna, and right after it we heard the sound of the waves crashing in the distance.

Red Frog has to be one of the most beautiful beaches I have ever been to – pure white sand, lots of palm trees and vegetation to provide cover, clear water and big waves. They even had a bar where you would sit in swings while sipping cold beer and admiring the views. So we found a spot to park ourselves and our stuff, and right away we went jumped in the water. The waves were big enough for body surfing, and I must have spent at least one hour in the water. Once I came back out, I took a walk up and down the beach, finding that a few minutes away the place was almost deserted compared to the crowd in the main area. Here is where I found a coconut in the water, and I had some fun taking a bunch of pictures of it. After one more quick swim, it was already time to head back to the boat. We returned to Bocas, though not before making a brief stop in the town of Bastimentos, where we dropped off some people. We got off at Isla Colon, and took a bit of a walk around town looking for a place to have dinner. Kellie and Tristen heard about Barco Hundido, which recently started to open for food service as well. In true Rastafarian fashion, they served only vegetarian meals, though they did have tofu burgers. We laughed knowing that once Eric took one look at the menu we would be going somewhere else. After a brief stop at the Backpackers hostel, we went back into the city and settled on the Om Café.

We have been talking about Indian food for that last few weeks, and in Bocas we actually got to fix our craving. We showed up at the restaurant at the perfect time; about fifteen minutes later, there was a line up of people waiting for tables to free up. The food was delicious and spicy, though it took a bit of time before we got it. It may have been a bit too pricey, but nothing beats the flavour! I even loved their slogan: “There is no place like OM”. After dinner we headed to the Iguana bar, where they had ladies’ night – in Bocas almost every day is ladies’ night at different bars, so women drink for free and men pay higher prices for the drinks to offset the difference. Nonetheless, the place got pretty crowded as the night went on. Eric and I discovered this game where you have a circle on a rope and you have to swing it so that it attached to a hook. It took a few tries, but at least Eric was able to complete it successfully. Eventually we were getting tired, so we said goodbye to Kellie and Tristen, who wanted to stay out longer since it was their last night together before Tristen’s departure the next day, so Eric and I headed back to the hostel, where we read for a while before going to sleep. Kellie and Tristen continued partying, and once the bar closed (they have strict noise regulations on the island) the party moved on to the so-called party boat. This was a three level boat specifically designed to pick up the overflow of revelers once the bars closed, so that the party can continue over the water and away from the city. They were back around 3am, then realized that they were locked out of the hostel; as I was asleep, I dreamt that someone was calling my name. Then I woke up to realize that it wasn’t really a dream, it was Kellie trying to wake me up through the window to let them in. They were feeling guilty that they woke me up, but I didn’t care since I was able to fall asleep almost immediately.

Isla Carenero

Woke up at Hospedaje Backpackers, and as we walked down the street, we still had a tough time believing where we were. We walked down the main street, marveling at the Caribbean architecture prevalent in all the hotels and restaurants. Peppered in between those were colourful shops selling hammocks, beachwear and anything else imaginable; and in between those shops were all the tables of the local artisans, filled with jewelry, clothing and other artifacts, all handmade. We decided to have breakfast at Lily's Cafe, 'Home of the Killin' Me Man' Sauce, as they proudly have become to be known. We took a table on the boat dock, and while we were eating, we took in all the marine traffic strolling in front of us. I did try their spicy sauce, and even though I had a few drops I needed a lot of water to take the bite away. We returned to the hostel for a while, and eventually decided to venture out to find a beach. We decided to head to the boat dock, and right away a whole group of people surrounded us asking to give us a ride; we picked a boat and for $1 each he drove us across to Isla Carenero, where we were dropped off at the Aqua Lounge.

The Aqua lounge is a hostel built on the water, complete with a diving platform and a water trampoline. We passed through it, though we did inquire about rooms, though that presented a dilemma in terms of securing a place to stay for semana santa. I had already spoken to Rohman, who assured me that as long as I switched rooms before the holy week, that I could stay there until it was all over. Either way, the Aqua lounge didn't take any reservations, so we would have to show up first thing in the morning, which realistically did not happen. After our brief visit, we walked along the shores of the island, passing by many hotels and cabanas that are available for rent, though which were all booked given the upcoming holiday. We eventually made our way to the beach on Isla Carenero. We set up camp, and promptly began suntanning; at the same time, Kellie and I started working on our 'project', helping each other build a resume for a travel guide position. We were involved in our work for a while, until we took a break to jump into the water. At this beach the water was so calm and clear that you could see little fish swimming right by the shore. I tried to go swimming but that was next to impossible since the water was so shallow; the most I could do is walk far enough where I could be in the water to my shoulders if I was sitting down. I am sure that the water was deeper, but only after where the waves were breaking, and that seemed to be about a half kilometer away - not even boats were venturing out here, for fear of getting stuck on a sandbank.

After the so-called swim, we continued working on the resume for a while, but then switched to reading for a while. We were warned by Erick (the guy who was walking with us to the hostel) did warn us that the chitras (sand fleas) would be coming out in the afternoon, probably around 3 pm. Well just like clockwork, at 3 o'clock I felt something biting my leg; less than five minutes later, Eric and I started to make a move off the beach, and by the time we actually left, not even ten minutes after, both my legs were covered in bites up to the knees. These bites would be one of my travel companions for at least two weeks to come, as I could not stop scratching them and kept them going. While the girls remained on the beach, Eric and I moved to the Pickled Parrot, a bar also built on stilts over the water, where we enjoyed cold beers while looking out to the other islands and watching the boats pass by. Kellie and Tristen joined us a little while later, and while we were chilling on the dock, a three person band showed up and played a small set for us. We quite enjoyed their music, and we didn't mind making a contribution as they really added to the wonderful atmosphere we were already experiencing.

As the day started to wind down, we started making our way back around Isla Carenero towards Aqua lounge. We were easily persuaded to stay and have a drink there as well, while Tristen was the only one who actually got in the water and made the most use out of the trampoline set up on the water. As we hailed a water cab (the driver was smart by always hanging out by the Aqua lounge, as opposed to waiting on the main island like everyone else), Kellie pulled a disappearing act right as we were boarding the boat, but hey these things happen and she joined us a few minutes later. We took the short trip back to Isla Colon, and then we started our daily search for a restaurant where we would have dinner. We eventually settled for an italian place where we had really good (and huge) pizzas. While we were enjoying our meal, the same band from the afternoon came back and played for us again.

After dinner we headed back to the hostel, where the girls went to sleep fairly quickly, while Eric and I stayed out in the front in the hammocks reading our books. Eventually Eric went to sleep as well, so I was the only witness as a group of English guys returned to the hostel later on in the evening, with the police in tow. From their conversations, and the cops' statements, I deduced that one of them, in a drunk stupor or rage, ended up punching a dent into a resident's car. A huge discussion ensued, complete with threats from the owner of getting his lawyers, and the cops mentioning over and over that they had their names and their passport numbers, should the owner decide to press charges. Little did I know that this was just a small preview of what was to happen during the madness that would occur during semana santa.

Road to Panama

Woke up so early that it was still dark outside. Luckily didn't need much time to pack since I hadn't really unpacked the night before. Sandra wasn't feeling that great and she wasn't sure if she will be joining us, so I left before 6 and started walking to the bus stop. I met up with Kellie, Eric and Tristen soon after, and we parked ourselves waiting for the bus to arrive. About five minutes before leaving, Sandra did show up after all, and we all boarded the bus to Sixaola, the Costa Rican side of the border with Panama. We had quite the entertainment on the hour and a half ride there - on one hand, beautiful views on either side, more banana plantations as far as the eye can see, on the other, a really loud and very religious preacher, who was rambling on and on about God as if the world was about to come to an end as we reached our destination. We all promptly plugged our ears with our iPods and continued our journey, though in between songs we could still hear him reciting the Bible by heart. I didn't even realize how fast time flew by, in between listening to music, dozing off or smiling at the preacher's devotion, and we arrived in Sixaola.

We got off the bus, and there were no signs or anything to guide our way to the border crossing; we asked around and found our way there, and followed the now standard procedure: stand in line, and wait for your turn to have your passport stamped. What followed was a bit less than standard: to get into into Panama, we had to cross a river, and the only way to do that was over what used to be a railroad bridge, now shared by both pedestrians and cars (not to mention trucks), so narrow in fact that vehicular traffic could only move in one direction at a time. We had quite a good laugh when we reached the middle of the bridge (the official border line) and we noticed the difference between the quality of the fence in either country, yet again enforcing the fact that Costa Rica is one of the better-off countries in Central America.

my comprehension, especially considering the relationship between Panama and the UnitedWith one extra step, here I was in Panama, the first time in almost four years that I had visited the country. At the end of the bridge, we formed another line to get our entry stamps at Guabito. Eric was right in front of me, and I saw him being led to a room inside the customs office - I automatically assumed that he got pulledpay a fee to enter Panama, whereas citizens from certain countries do not - why is that is beyond over for a random luggage check, but after Sandra and I passed through, both Kellie and Tristen also got pulled in. That's where it kicked in, they had to States. Throughout the border crossing we had a guy who guided us along the way, telling us what we needed to do and when, though I couldn't figure out why. Then it kicked in - from Guabito to get to Changuinola we would have to take a taxi as there are no buses servicing those two cities. So this guy referred us to a cab driver, and I am sure he got a commission in return, but it made the crossing easier for us. The cab is really a pick up truck with a cabin large enough to fit five people, so we threw our bags on the back of it and climbed inside. We were separated from Sandra at this point, since a cab would only take 4 passengers,
and we took off towards Changuinola, on some of the best roads I have seen in Central America.

I got a very familiar feeling as we were driving through Panama, feeling very comfortable, since I was returning to a place where I have had such a great experience four years before. On the road, the now familiar banana plantations were flanking the road, and our driver informed us that we were looking at the home of Chiquita Bananas. They had a very interesting transportation system, using a system of pulleys and cables to move the bananas to the storage areas. We arrived in Changuinola, which is not that well known, except for the above mentioned bananas and as a transit point to Bocas del Toro. As the cab came to a stop, a swarm of kids came by and started to reach for our backpacks; we thought the worse, but they actually wanted to take our bags to the boat docks in return for a tip. As backpackers though we do travel on a budget and carrying our bags is part of the package. We got to the dock, bought our tickets then we still had a good hour and a half to kill, so we went to a local restaurant where we had a few coffees and chatted for a while. We saw Sandra back at the boat dock, though before we were making jokes about how she got 'kidnapped' on her way to Changuinola. We got on the boat, and for the next hour we enjoyed a ride through a series of canals, leading out to the ocean.

The ride was what I pictured the Danube Delta to be like, though I was never fortunate enough to experience that while I was in Romania. The canals were built as an alternative to roads in order to transport bananas to the waiting ships in the ocean. The vegetation on either side seemed to spill into the water, and as we were zooming around, the boat driver slowed down every time that we would pass one of the locals' canoes. Towards the end, the canal opens up and joins with the ocean; I expected a huge jolt as we hit the waves of the open water, but the ride was very smooth. The most noticeable difference was the colour of the water, which was now a turquoise green, and so clear that you could see the coral reef as we were floating above it. We followed Isla Colon (the main island in the archipelago) and we arrived into the town of Bocas; my first impression made me reflect back to Venice, as the city has many houses built right over the water, and small boats double as water taxis to take you from one island to another.

As soon as we got off the boat we were met by the usual committee of people offering us places to stay or boat rides to other places around the archipelago. We met Erick, who claimed to be the bartender at Mondo Taitu, and he first took us to Hostel Heike, but there we would have had to divide up our group of four into different rooms, so we kept on going up the main street, turned the corner and found ourselves at Mondo Taitu. However there was nobody at reception, so we kept moving on; Eric, Kellie and Tristen found a room for three in a hotel, but I kept on moving on. We found another hotel, La Veranda, where there was a room for four available, but a bit out of our price range - not knowing it at the time, we had just met Rohman. Walking back I came across Hospedaje Backpackers, and I enquired about a bed in a dorm, which was only $8 a night. Happy that I had a place to stay, I took it, and then went over to meet with Eric, Kellie and Tristen, telling them that my dorm was of only 4 beds and that the other three we free. So we all decided to stick together and they moved into Backpackers; what I didn't know at the time is that it would become my home for the next two weeks. We settled in, opening our bags and having our contents seemingly explode in the room - we were content to have a place to stay, though on our door there was a sign saying the room was reserved for semana santa. We spent the rest of the day exploring the city, and we stopped at a seafood restaurant overlooking the water where we had dinner, and then we settled in the hostel where we chatted some more, finishing off the day by either going to sleep or swinging in a hammock with a good book.

Road to the Puerto Viejo

Got up really early to say goodbye to Carmen, who was flying out to Montreal, and back to the snow. Since we were up around 5:30 but the cab didn't arrive until after 6, once she left I wasn't able to fall back asleep, so I unpacked and repacked the small backpack, and then stored my duffel bag at Hotel Paradise Alajuela, and waived goodbye to the staff. I always get a really good feeling when I leave the Central Valley behind, so I couldn't wait to get on the bus to Puerto Viejo, but first I would have to return to San Jose. I planned to give myself enough time to walk from one bus terminal to the other in the capital, but we all know how well plans turn out! I hopped on the express bus, thinking by name that it would get me there faster, then I sat on the bus watching about three collectivo buses leaving traffic on the interamerican highway, so I got into San Jose later than I had anticipated. Strike 2. I started walking to the Caribbean terminal, then realizing that time was running out, I decided to blow the budget and hail a cab. To my surprise, the cab ride was less than a dollar, and I arrived at the terminal with almost fifteen minutes to spare. A really 'helpful' individual guided me to the ticket office, then informed me that the bus leaving at noon was already full. Strike 3. He did, however, offer to drive me to Puerto Viejo in his car, for the very 'affordable' price of before mine. Strike 1. One we did leave, we hit $100. How generous of him! This would have been strike 4, but then my baseball analogy would fly out the window.

I did buy tickets for the 2pm bus, which already threw my plans out the window since I was supposed to meet Eric, Kellie and two of their friends in Puerto Viejo at around 4:30. So I used the free time I had to grab some lunch, then jolted across the street to an internet cafe so I can at least tell them not to waste their time waiting for me at the prearranged hour. Before I knew it, the waiting time was over and I hopped on the bus. This is when I discovered how close I cut it even with the later bus; apparently I had purchased the last seat, so I was lucky enough to have the seat in the back row, the one right in the middle, facing the isle. This did pose a bigger problem than I thought once I started falling asleep, as I woke up every time the bus driver hit the breaks, picturing myself flying all the way down the isle to the front. I did eventually get some shut eye by propping each of my feet against the seats in front of me, to secure my position. The trip towards the east coast is fairly similar to the one towards the west - we have to climb the mountains and then back down to reach the ocean. However, on this side of Costa Rica, everything seemed greener and the vegetation was more lush, showing the fact that it does rain more on the east coast, even in the dry season. In fact, as we were nearing the peak, we drove right into a cloud and were treated with a ten minute torrential downpour, before everything cleared up. At certain points, the road was the highest point around, with steep slopes on either side of the highway. I wish I could have taken pictures, but from my choice seat, they would have included mainly other people's heads.

As we descended from the mountains, we passed through at least one hour of banana plantations, one after the other. They stretched out as far as the eye can see, on either side of the road. Most had blue plastic bags wrapped around the bananas, as I later learned to protect them from parasites and from the insecticide used to keep up the plants (don't worry, the chemicals are on the outside of the bags, and the banana inside). Usually on long bus rides, we get a pit stop once we get outside the mountain range; this time we stopped in Puerto Limon, where we had about half an hour to use washrooms or purchase food and drinks. Once we were back on the bus, the road turns south, and it runs almost parallel to the ocean. This is when I realized what I had missed out by not visiting the Caribbean side for the last two months: palm trees lined up one after the other, beautiful (and deserted) white sand beaches for miles on end. Everything had such a relaxed, island feel to it that I almost kicked myself for not having gone there sooner. Since it was late afternoon, the sun was setting as we arrived in Cahuita; this is a place that has been highly recommended by many travelers, not only for its beaches but also for the national park that shares the same name. Since I was on such a tight schedule, I had to skip the town, though I vowed to return and explore it in detail. By the time we arrived in Puerto Viejo it was already dark, and I found myself in an unfortunate yet familiar situation: got to a place I had never been to before, without a map or anything to help me out, trying to find the hostel that my friends were staying at. Seeing how developed Puerto Viejo is, I realized that this is just like finding the needle in the haystack. The city is stretched along the beach, with one hotel after another, all peppered with restaurants in between.

As I walked away from the bus station, obviously looking a bit lost, I met Sandra, a German traveler (originally from Croatia), who had a similar dilemma as mine: where to stay for the night. As we started asking one hotel after another, we kept on receiving the standard reply: sorry, nothing for tonight but we have places tomorrow! Well, the next day would be no good, since we were leaving for Panama in the morning. After trying at least half a dozen places, the desperation level was approaching; luckily we veered off the main road and found some cabins where there were three guys playing pool in the front. They did have availability, but they wanted to charge $35 for the room, which seemed overpriced since we were leaving about 12 hours later (oh, yes, Sandra was also heading to Bocas del Toro in the morning). We were able to talk them down to $20 for the night, so $10 a person was a reasonable trade-off. Once we settled our stuff and after a quick shower, we were starving, so we headed back into the center of the city to have dinner. We found a reasonable place, ordered our meals, and chatted away about our travels so far and what we planned on doing next. While we were eating, there was a funny moment when the power went out across the whole city, which triggered an immediate stunned silence, followed by cheers. However we didn't even have enough time to light candles before the power came back on - so much for a candle-light dinner. As we were finishing our meals, I happened to look out into the street, and I see someone looking at the menu posted out front. We make eye contact, freeze for a second as the thoughts processed, then it kicked in: that's Kellie! We gave each other big hugs, and then made the usual introductions, and that's when I met Kellie's sister, Tristen, and Kellie's friend Rachael (from Chicago). Also met Igor, a local guide who was hanging out with them - despite what the name may have you believe, he was born and bred in Costa Rica, goes to show something about making assumptions. They were still looking for a restaurant, so Sandra and I joined them for drinks since we had already finished diner. We spent a few hours chatting and laughing, but then most of us had to call it a night, since we wanted to catch the first bus to the border the following day. Only Rachael stayed to party in town, since she was returning to San Jose the next day to catch a flight back home.

Back to Costa Rica

Just like the previous day, got up early in the morning, grabbed all my stuff and packed my bag in the hallway as to not wake up the other people in the dorm. By around 6 am, Carmen and I were ready, grabbed our backpacks and headed to the bus stop by the market, hoping to catch the 6:30 bus to Rivas, since we had to be at the Tica bus office at least half an hour before the departure time. Well unlike the day before, the bus was late and we only left San Juan del Sur by around 7am - so we both had a bit of a freak out on the ride back, constantly looking at the time, and wondering whether or not we would make it on time. By the time we arrived in Rivas, we were ready to jump off the bus as we were moving, to gain an extra few seconds; we got dropped off in front of the Tica agency, and nobody was there. Not panicking, we took a look around and saw the group across the street, still waiting for the bus, so we calmed down a bit. We joined the line, and barely had the time to make a run to a pulperia to get a few snacks for the road before the bus showed up. Relieved to be on board, we settled into our seats and immediately received our immigration forms, paid our border crossing fees and had our passports taken away by the Tica agent (it always makes me feel paranoid when I hand over my passport to someone else, but I had already been through that before and I knew there was no other way around it). We had just enough time to fill in our forms when we arrived at Penas Blancas, on the Nicaraguan side. While waiting to receive our exit stamps, we were chatting with a polish-canadian couple from Mississauga, who were thrilled at their purchase of a hammock for only a few dollars. Upon inspecting it however, both Carmen and I realized that it was made out of such poor material that it wouldn't last beyond a few sittings.

On the Costa Rican side, we lined up to get our entry stamps, and then had to join yet another line to have our luggage checked; just like my previous border crossing experience, the customs agents barely looked into the tourists' backpacks and ruffled through all the luggage of the Nicos. Again, by now I am starting to get used to the differential treatment, so I found it less surprising the second time around. The rest of the ride back to Alajuela was fairly uneventful, though we did have the luxury of watching two movies along the way, which made the time pass by faster. We asked to get dropped off at the airport, shaving about an hour off our travel time, got on a local bus and we were in Alajuela before 4pm. We returned to the same hotel where I had my bag stored for the last few weeks, and made the most of the time I had with the laptop. Having discovered Skype while in Granada, I decided to splurge $8 on a headset and mike set, and I am sure that I must have spent at least a few hours on the phone, chatting away for next to nothing. I think by now you might have realized that I am not crazy about the central valley, so the next day and a half was fairly uneventful as there isn't much to see or do. I did repack and started to get ready for my departure to the east coast of Costa Rica, where I hoped to meet up with Kellie and Eric, and then heading towards Panama with them.

Playa Majagual

Since we wanted to catch the early beach shuttle, we got up around 6am to make our way to Rivas. By 6:30, we walked to the mercado and waited for the bus, though it only took a few minutes for it to arrive. About an hour later we arrived in Rivas, and we were dropped off in front of the Tica Bus agency; it only took about 10 minutes to make our reservations and get our tickets for the following day, after which we walked to the Rivas market to wait for the return bus to San Juan del Sur. We were told that the bus would leave around 8:15, and as it got close to that time, we still didn't see it - the problem was that we were looking for a chicken bus. At the last minute, I noticed a minibus and asked someone about the destination, and we got on it right as it was about to leave. Funny thing was that even though the keys were in the ignition, the driver had to hotwire the minibus to start it. As soon as we left Rivas, we got pulled over by a police checkpoint, and our driver got busted for driving with an expired license. He did get a ticket, but then he got back in the bus and continued the journey. I think I mentioned this before, but the road to San Juan del Sur is under construction, so we had to take a detour at literally every bridge that we came across. We got back to Casa Oro with about 15 minutes to spare before the beach shuttle left, so I grabbed my towel, camera and sunblock and hopped on the bus. That's when I realized that I have a choice of two beaches to go to...one was Maderas, the surfing beach, and the other Majagual, the relaxing beach, so I opted for the second. What followed was a half hour ride north of the city, along a bumpy road, in a small truck which i shared with a few French Canadians.

Once off the bus, I headed first to Matilda beach, which to my surprise was absolutely empty. They did say this was the relaxing beach, but I didn't expect it to be so secluded. I went for a swim, then took a walk onto the rocks at the end of the beach, until I got to the edge of the rock outcropping. I would have continued on, but there was a cave filled with water from the ocean, which was too deep for me to cross. So I made my way back to the beach, then walked on the path which took me to Majagual beach. I went from one side of the beach to the other, got in the water for a quick swim, and afterward I felt the need to search for a bit of shade. I started reading my book, but before I knew it I fell asleep for a few hours. Woke up a bit confused and realizing that I was both hungry and dehydrated - in my rush to make the beach shuttle I had forgotten to take either snacks or even a bottle of water. So I got up, picked up my belongings and walked back to the intersection of the trails going to either beaches, I found a small soda where I had some lunch. As I was eating I heard the waves crashing on the shore of Matilda, and I realized that the tide was coming back in. I headed back to the beach, and took a few more pictures both there and at Majagual before going back to catch the shuttle to return to San Juan del Sur.
Back at Casa Oro, I met up with Carmen again, and to my surprise I learned that she was at the same beach, though she left after me and we didn't get a chance to meet up there. Funny how on such a secluded beach you can miss running into a friend. While at the hostel, we got together with Nicole and a big group of her friends, most of them from Holland, and we headed to another pizzeria, where we took up a table for about 10 people. We had dinner while sharing travel stories, information and suggestions, and even witnessed a political march since the next day Nicaragua was holding elections. After dinner, on the way back to the hostel, we crossed a street that was still under construction, and some of us dragged tar into Casa Oro, which made the owners furious. I contemplated going out for the evening with some of the Dutch girls, but I changed my mind once realizing that we would have to be up by 5:30 am to make our way back to Costa Rica.

Horseback Riding

As usual got up early in the morning (I have found that in dorms I really cannot sleep past 7am), had a bit of breakfast and started to get ready for horseback riding. Unfortunately I had to get out my muddy shoes from the Maderas hike, though I was not keen on using them yet, or ever again for that matter. Again I debated with getting rid of them alltogether and just splurging for a pair of new shoes, but that would have to wait. We were ready to go by 9 am, and like clockwork, our guide showed up and introduced himself. Jose was relieved that we spoke at least a bit of spanish, since he didn´t know much english, but regardless was a really nice guy, and smiling all the time. We got into his pickup truck, and started driving through town. We had a chance to see the rest of San Juan del Sur, both the really nice, upscale, gated communities as well as the run-down, almost shanty-like neighbourhoods. I had made the assumption that the farm was somewhere on the outskirts of the city, but we kept on driving south for almost half an hour on a dusty, bumpy road. On the way there, Jose stopped the truck at the side of the road, and pointed to a strange looking monkey that was tied up in a tree. He explained to us that it was the mascot of a nearby finca, so that tourists can locate the side road leading to it - I was half expecting the monkey to point out the road, but instead we were treated to a not-so-pleasant backside view.

We finally arrived at Jose´s farm, a really nice looking place, and he invited us to see if we wanted to have anything for breakfast. We already had had some food, and my stomach wasn´t really feeling 100%, so we made the wise decision to move on to the horses, promising that we would stop on the way back for lunch instead. The three horses were waiting for us, tied up against the fence. Carmen and I got the two white ones (luckily I got the more obedient one) and Jose got on a smaller, brown horse. I was at first a bit nervous, since it had been years since I had been on a horse, but quickly I learned to relax and enjoy the ride. We started down the road through the village, waiving hello to everyone who we passed, and Jose pointed out the local school where the kids were playing in the yard on their break. Just as we were about to leave the village, a donkey caught our attention and nearly destroyed our hearingg with its high pitched yee-haas. We continued through a valley, with fields of sugar cane on either side of us, and then turned off the road through another farm and onto a rugged path. Occasionaly Jose would stop to point out the congo monkeys who by now were pretty quiet and sleeping in the trees. We crossed a small creek, and as we continued on the path we saw what Jose led us to believe was a dead cow. Realizing that he had been kidding, we moved on until we got to a fork in the road.

Following Jose´s suggestion, we took the path that led uphill, and once we got to the top we were rewarded with a beautiful view of two secluded beaches, one on either side of us. We stopped for a few minutes to take some pictures, and then we descended to our right, on a narrow and steep path. Not knowing how to handle the horse too well, I often had to part branches aside with my hand, and somehow a red ant feel on my leg and took a big chunk of skin as a souvenir. By the time I felt the pinch, it was already too late as the damage was done. Once on the beach, and with very little warning, Jose encouraged his horse to start running to the other side - it did not take long for our horses to follow, too. I found myself holding on to the saddle for dear life, so tight in fact that I ended up scraping the skin off of one of my fingers due to the friction of the rope. At the end of the beach, the horse automatically slowed down and then stopped all together. Taking a moment to gather myself and have a drink of water, we took a break and chatted with Jose for a while, and then we asked him to take a few pictures of us on the horses.

We turned the horses around, and the fast-paced scene repeated itself as we returned to the beginning of the secluded beach. We got back on the path, up and then down the hill, where we ran into some real life caballeros, who managed to revive the cow we saw before and bring it back onto its feet. From here on we took the other path, onto the second secluded beach, where again our horses broke into a gallop. I must have held the reigns too tighly on one side, since as we were speeding along the beach, my horse kept on veering to the right, until it got into the ocean, spashing water all around. It kept on going until my feet were in the water too, then it came to a complete stop, so sudden in fact that I almost pictured myself doing a tumble over its head and ending up going for a swim. Luckily that didn´t happen and I was able to steer it back onto the beach, as Carmen and Jose were both laughing at my lack of guidance skills.

So back on the beach, we ´parked´our horses and took a walk to the end, where we climbed the rocks to get a better view of the area. A few bats flew over our heads as we stopped to take a few pictures, both of us with Jose and of the beautiful surroundings. There were hundreds of crabs crawling around, and Jose tried to catch a few of them, though without much success. Once we returned to the horses, we took a different trail back to the main road, passing by a fresh water laguna and following the river upstream. By this point it was getting close to noon, and the heat and sunshine increased as well. We passed the same donkey that we saw in the morning, who still greeted us with its loud calls. We were relieved to be able to get off the horses and into the shade of the soda on Jose´s farm. We had a few drinks and ate lunch, while talking to Jose and immersing ourselves in an improptu spanish - english lesson. He even took a picture of us at the restaurant that he wants to use for future promotion, and Carmen and I laughed that if we saw ourselves on any brochures we would get our army of lawyers after him.

We said goodbye to his family and left the farm, feeling drained and exhausted and walking in a very funny way. On the ride back into San Juan del Sur, Carmen promptly fell asleep for the half hour ride, while I watched he surroundings and chased the clouds of dust with my eyes. We returned to Casa Oro, said goodbye to Jose, and sat down to figure out our next move. We were supposed to go to Rivas to buy our tickets for the Tica bus, but neither of us were particularly keen on making the 2-3 hr return trip for a mere 15 minutes spent at the Tica office. So we decided to leave that for the next morning, and took the rest of the afternoon to relax and stretch our sore muscles. I spent a few hours reading, and while I was in the backyard of Casa Oro, I ran into Nicole again, who I had met in Granada about a week prior; she followed the same travel itinerary as me, just a few days behind, but we managed to catch up with one another. Didn´t leave the hostel until it got to be after 5 pm, when Carmen and I went down to the beach to watch the sunset again. After a brief stop at the internet cafe, we asked around and found the name of a local pizzeria where we had dinner. We were both so tired after a full day that we returned to Casa Oro to get some rest, knowing that the next day we would have to get up early to get our Tica bus tickets before catching the beach shuttle.

San Juan del Sur

After all the recent travels, we designated this day as a relaxation day, so we took it easy and just hung around town. As it already happened on a few different occasions, I had some trouble accessing money from my account, and had to try three different banks before I found one that would accept my card. The sense of urgency was increased by the fact that I had to pay for my room before eleven, otherwise I would be out on the street. With that little dilemma out of the way, I was free to relax and enjoy the rest of the day. I took a trip two streets down to the beach in town, and sat in the sun for a while, though soon enough it got to be too hot and too much and I had to return to the hostel.

With a good book, I found a hammock and spent a bit of time reading, before promptly falling sleep. I woke up a few hours later, still holding my book at the same page. I made it down to the beach again, and found a spot where I sat and watched the sun go down between the ships in the harbour. It was a beautiful sight, and there were lots of people on the beach partaking in nature´s show as well. I returned to the internet cafe and I lost myself in the world of email and skype until I realised that it was already after 7 pm, normally dinner time. I returned to the hostel to find Carmen, but she had already left, and since I didn´t want to eat by myself, I took a wild guess that she may be by one of the restaurants by the waterfront. My guess was a lucky one, as within a few minutes I found her and Jason at a local seafood restaurant. We shared a really good fish dinner, and afterwards we returned to the hostel. Again, the movie of the evening was already playing, and I had seen Blood Diamond numerous times, so the three of us decided to grab a bottle of Flor de Caña (Nicaraguan rum) and a bottle of coke, and went back by the beach.

We spent at least a couple of hours having a great conversation, with the waves of the ocean crashing in the background. Both Carmen and I were at first surprised about the straight-forward questions that Jason was asking, and the ease with which he was able to extract answers out of us. To be fair though, he subjected himself to the same type of questioning, so we all had quite a revealing conversation. It is not often that I feel so comfortable to share certain details with someone who I had barely met, but I guess this was the exception to the rule. As I started to feel tired and sleepy, I excused myself and started walking back to the hostel, but it wasn´t long before I ended up walking into a boat trailer (it my defence it was dark out). Nursing my bruised knee, I got back to Casa Oro, grabbed my iPod, put of my headphones and I was asleep before I knew it, looking forward to horseback riding the following day.

Road to San Juan del Sur

We decided in the morning to take a later bus to San Juan del Sur, so we had plenty of time to have breakfast, read for a bit and for me to update some of the blog info. We chatted for a bit while staying by the pool, and by 11am we checked out and walked across the mercado towards the bus terminal - by now the route seemed really familiar, since I had already done it a few times. We found the chicken bus waiting to leave for Rivas, and this time I truly got to understand why they are called chicken buses. It is not, as some would believe, because chickens are transported on them, more likely the name comes from the passangers being packed in together like chickens. On every two person seat there where three people, and there were people standing as well. Before we even left Granada, two guys who were sitting next to Carmen offered us Mombacho (since I am assuming that was their breakfast), but I wisely declined, still seeing the remains of the scabs I got before. Despite the overcrowded conditions, and the fact that I only had half a seat, I still managed to fall asleep for the hour and a half ride to Rivas. As soon as we got off the bus in the market at Rivas, the ´touching´ guy got us before we could board our next bus. I started contemplating some sort of ´revenge´but still needed time to plot my plan of action.

The first part of the road to San Juan del Sur was on the InterAmericana highway, but once we veered off it, the road turned to dust, and it seemed every single bridge was under construction, so we made at least ten detours along the way there. We got to San Juan del Sur, and walked for two blocked to get to Casa Oro - Carmen had stayed there before so she recommended it and knew exactly where it was. We checked in and took two beds in one of the upstairs dorms, and once I dropped off my bags I took a walk through the town. San Juan del Sur is a little bit bigger than some of the other ocean front places I have traveled to (Montezuma was about two streets wide), and it is situatied in a gulf, flanked on either side by hills covered in expensive villas. It has a nice, broad and long promenade by the beach, one side full of hotels, and the other lined with restaurants and bars, all of which provided a nice waterfront view. There were lots of boats in the water, but not that many people on the beach. Later on I learned that to get to the really nice beaches in the area, I would have to take a shuttle bus as they were out of the city.
After using the internet for a bit, I returned to the hostel, where I met with Carmen and Jason (a south african traveler) and we headed for dinner at the Iguana bar. We picked a table facing the water, but as we later learned the location wasn´t as great as we first thought as we were right under a big speaker. We had some burgers and a few drinks, but soon after the place began to be really packed and really loud, so we decided to call it a night, heading back to the hostel. Here they were playing movies on the big screen tv, but since we walked in the middle of it, I opted to read a bit from my book before going to sleep.

Volcan Masaya

We got up looking forward to our trip this day; we had already heard about all the places we were going to see from Eric and Kellie. We stopped for breakfast at the Eurocafe, a place also recommended by them, then we headed towards the tour operator's office. We were joined by ten other people plus their guide, a group organized by Tucan tours, traveling from Mexico down to Costa Rica. Our guide for the trip, David, was quite talkative and really funny, so he made the whole tour so much more enjoyable. He kept on telling us all these stories about the places we were about to see, and almost as if we didn't believe him, he even brought supporting materials to substantiate his claims. But most of all, I enjoyed meeting Allison, the tour guide for the Tucan group, who provided some answers to one of the questions that I have been searching for quite a long time. I first noticed the conversation she had with David on our way to the Masaya volcano, and while I could understand most of it, I was most taken back by the experiences that she had if her group, especially when it came to the Tica bus. Most of all, I came to admire what she was doing, and I found myself wanting to follow along in her footsteps.We got to Volcan Masaya, the first stop on our tour, and as we drove into the parking lot, one of the first things we noticed was a fire truck, obviously donated by a German station, since it still had its original paint job. David told us that there was a search party organized for a person who went missing a few days before. This was obviously someone higher up in the hierarchy, since aside from the firefighters, there were also helicopters searching the ground from above. Unfortunately, it seems they never found the missing person, as to whether this was an unfortunate incident or an intentional disappearance or suicide is anyone's guess.

Volcan Masaya is one of the most active ones in Nicaragua, and there was a constant flow of smoke and gases coming out of its crater... that is one of its craters, since in total we visited about seven in the area. After we stopped at the parking lot and peered inside the active crater, we followed a path that took us to a high point, where a huge wooden cross dominated the landscape. While not the original, this was a replica of a cross the spaniards erected on that site, fearing that the volcano led straight down to Hell, and wanting extra protection. While David was giving us the history behind the cross, we could smell the sulphur that was all around us. The flyer we received when we entered the park did advise us that we could be overtaken by fumes, and that at the first impression of feeling nausiated we should descent from the peak. We all shared a laugh when we read that should an eruption occur, we should seek shelter underneath our car; all funny until something like that were to actually happen.
From the point with the cross, we could see all the way across to Lago Managua, the city of Managua and the international airport. After we descended, we walked across the parking lot and took another trail which led us to a viewing platform, where we had to make a choice - we could either take the short and steep path or the long and easy path - most of us chose the steep one, though both Carmen and I had reservations given the hike we had done on Maderas only a few days before. Once we got to the top, we were rewarded with a beautiful view of the city of Masaya as well as Laguna Masaya and futher away, Granada and Lago Nicaragua. We took a few pictures at the top, and on our way down I kept on chatting with Allison. It turns out that she left a similar line of work and with similar dissatisfaction feelings, so it seemed that we had more in common than I had previously thought.

Once we were all packed in the minibus, we took the road back though the national park, stopping at the volcano museum. While some of the exhibits were interesting, and I tried to read as many of the spanish labels as possible, it seemed most people were eager to move on to our next destination and by the time I got out, almost everyone was waiting by the bus. We continued on, taking the short trip to Masaya, where we were dropped off at the main market. We all sat down for the complimentary drink that was included with our tour before splitting up in different directions. We had about an hour of free time in the market, and I used most of this time to hang out and talk to Allison, trying to get more insight into what her job was like on a daily basis, both the highs and the lows. The more I heard her talking about it with such passion, the more I could see myself following in her shoes - for me this would be the perfect combination of traveling and earning an income, all while doing something I absolutely love! What could be better?

I didn´t end up buying much of anything at the market (after all, what good are ceramics or huge hammocks when you are traveling with a small backpack for at least another month and a half?), but I did use that time to take a few pictures of the colorful stalls and walk around. At the scehduled time, we met up with David again, and he led us back to the minibus. Our next destination was Catarina, the so-called city of flowers, and for good reason. The town´s claim to fame is that it is the flower capital of Nicaragua, and people from all over the country come down there to decorate their gardens. We walked down the main street, which was literally one flower shop after another, so another opportunity to take lots of pictures. At the top of the street, once the minibus was parked, we got to a lookout point where we could see Laguna de Apoyo below us, and the city of Granada in the background. We sat for a while, listening to locals playing traditional music and taking in the beautiful view.

The last stop on our tour was San Juan (not to be confused with San Juan del Sur, which i will get to later). This is a pottery and ceramics town, and we stopped at a local workshop where we got to see firsthand how these are created and decorated by hand. The owner of the shop had own international acclaim for his creations, and I gained a new level of respect and understanding for how much time and dedication goes into making these. Again, given the backpacker nature, it was impossible for us to get any souvenirs from there, as much as I would have loved to. We returned to Granada by late afternoon, said our goodbyes to David, and while Carmen decided to go back to the hostel, I joined Allison and two of the members of her group for a drink at TelePizza. One of them was an agent for TravelCuts, so again the conversation revolved around traveling and all the associated adventures. I exchanged emails with Allison, hoping that we will keep in touch, and she give me the information for contacting the Tucan tours representative in Toronto once I got back. Once I met up with Carmen again, we decided to go for dinner, and since we had a craving for pizza, we returned to the same place I was at only a few hours before. Even the waiter got a laugh at the fact that I was there twice in three hours, and made a joke about it. After dinner, we returned to Oasis to pack our bags; we had decided not to hang around Granada much longer, and that the following morning we would leave for San Juan del Sur, the first time in weeks when I would return to the ocean.