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Archive: April 2008

Little Island in the Sun - Apr 05, 2008 -
Return to the Sea - Apr 02, 2008 -

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Little Island in the Sun

- April 5, 2008 - - -

From San Juan Del Sur we caught a cab back to Rivas (much faster driver this time), then a bus to Managua, switched to another bus out to the airport, then hopped a plane to Bluefields and then on to Big Corn Island where we jumped in a boat to Little Corn Island. Pretty much every form of transportation in Nicaragua in a single journey (there are no trains unfortunately). To get from the airport to San Juan Del Sur we spent $40 each. To do the same thing in reverse we paid $6 each. That's called figuring it out.

We arrived on Little Corn Island around sundown and met a man I at first took to be a tout who showed us the way to the guesthouse we wanted to stay in. After settling in an getting a feel for the island I realized that Ali, the man, wasn't a tout, he was just a really nice guy who enjoyed doing favors for tourists. He would accept the occasional tip, but he wasn't in it for the money.

The truth is there's just very little to do on Little Corn Island, so helping tourists passes the time. The only people that work what you and I might call a full day are the guesthouse owners and the fishermen. Pretty much everyone else seemed to not have much to do (and we were there during the the three month off season for lobster fisherman so the island was pretty well laid back).

Carlito's, like most of the guesthouses on the island, consisted of a few huts, some shaded tables by the water and central eating area. And of course the most important part -- the hammocks slug between pretty much any two appropriately spaced objects.

The interesting thing about the Corn Islands is that they're more or less a totally separate experience from mainland Nicaragua. English is the primary language and the native people are of African descent. Naturally there are a number of Misquitos as well as Spanish descendant people, but for the most part the Caribbean coast is a bit like transplanting say, Jamaica, to Nicaragua.

The Corn Islands are part of an autonomous zone in Nicaragua. I won't pretend to understand the nuances of the government setup here, but as I understand it, the Mosquito Indians pretty much control things and government of Nicaragua supports them (for the most part) but doesn't seem to interfere too much.

This region of the Caribbean has long been a hangout for pirates and smugglers -- especially these islands, which were a favorite for British pirates waiting to hit the Spanish Galleons coming across the Gulf of Mexico.

When the drug runners come under attack by U.S. Coast Guard boats they typically pitch their rather large bales of cocaine overboard and, owing to a curious combination of wind and currents, those bales (and sometimes barrels of money as well) tend to wash up here. It used to be that the Colombians would buy the drugs back, but from what I've read the Indians have decided to stop that tradition and now get rid of it them themselves. And apparently the Colombian drug runners won't mess with the Mosquito, who are heavily armed, well-organized and have been defending this area for going on six hundred years. In short, they are not people to fuck with -- as the Spanish, British, the Nicaraguan Army, the U.S. special forces and a number of other erstwhile challengers have discovered over the years.

Thus, while it certainly isn't common, the white lobster, as the bales of cocaine are known here, does turn up from time to time. As do barrels of money. For instance, according to local gossip, the woman who owns the guesthouse next to Carlito's discovered a barrel with $80,000 inside -- more than enough to open a profitable guesthouse.

As you might expect, this shady past has made for a bit unrest over the years. As little as six years ago, Little Corn was a very sketchy place. Local residents lined their houses with razor wire and the Casa Iguana Guesthouse had a bucket full a machetes available for any guests that were brave (or foolish) enough to even venture out at night. Luckily for those of us that probably wouldn't fare well in a machete fight, those days are largely over.

There are still "incidents" on the island, but it's the tamer, stealing-stuff-from-rooms that happens in any isolated, yet heavily visited area, rather than the more violent holdups.

For the record I never felt unsafe on Little Corn and we walked around at night quite a bit, alone even. Of course some of that has to do with the massively increased police presence that the government sent over for Semana Santa (Easter) who are still on the island.

But if you've heard the stories floating around the internet about trouble on Little Corn and you're hesitating to go, don't. It's perfectly safe and you'll love it.

- - - diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2008/04/little-island-sun.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2008/04/little-island-sun.html deleted file mode 100644 index 4f0fffb..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2008/04/little-island-sun.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,344 +0,0 @@ - - - - - Little Island In The Sun - by Scott Gilbertson - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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Little Island in the Sun

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Little Corn Island, Nicaragua

- – Map -

- April 5, 2008 - -

Palm Tree, Little Corn Island, Nicaragua Of that journey the only stressful part was the puddle-jumper flight from Managua to Big Corn on an airline that’s apparently sketchy enough that U.S. diplomats aren’t allowed to fly on it. However, we met up with Kenso and Melissa again a few days later and I asked Kenso about it and he waved his hand dismissively and said the planes were fine (he’s flown some pretty sketchy stuff for the U.N. in Africa so I figured it was okay and I relaxed somewhat on the flight back).

We arrived on Little Corn Island around sundown and met a man I at first took to be a tout who showed us the way to the guesthouse we wanted to stay in. After settling in an getting a feel for the island I realized that Ali, the man, wasn’t a tout, he was just a really nice guy who enjoyed doing favors for tourists. He would accept the occasional tip, but he wasn’t in it for the money.

The truth is there’s just very little to do on Little Corn Island, so helping tourists passes the time. The only people that work what you and I might call a full day are the guesthouse owners and the fishermen. Pretty much everyone else seemed to not have much to do (and we were there during the the three month off season for lobster fisherman so the island was pretty well laid back).

Carlito's Guesthouse, Little Corn Island, Nicaragua In short, Little Corn Island is basically paradise. We stayed at Carlito’s Sunrise Paradise ($25 a night, A+, highly recommended) and were about ten paces from the water. One afternoon I took a short nap and I sat up in bed and noticed the view you see in the photo to the right.

Carlito’s, like most of the guesthouses on the island, consisted of a few huts, some shaded tables by the water and central eating area. And of course the most important part — the hammocks slug between pretty much any two appropriately spaced objects.

The interesting thing about the Corn Islands is that they’re more or less a totally separate experience from mainland Nicaragua. English is the primary language and the native people are of African descent. Naturally there are a number of Misquitos as well as Spanish descendant people, but for the most part the Caribbean coast is a bit like transplanting say, Jamaica, to Nicaragua.

The Corn Islands are part of an autonomous zone in Nicaragua. I won’t pretend to understand the nuances of the government setup here, but as I understand it, the Mosquito Indians pretty much control things and government of Nicaragua supports them (for the most part) but doesn’t seem to interfere too much.

This region of the Caribbean has long been a hangout for pirates and smugglers — especially these islands, which were a favorite for British pirates waiting to hit the Spanish Galleons coming across the Gulf of Mexico.

Beach, Little Corn Island, Nicaragua The pirating tradition continues to day with drug running boats. Drug-running boats en route from Colombia to Miami pass through this area. Though the boats no longer stop on the islands, every now and then someone loads a panga (local outboard boat) with gasoline and heads out into the sea (GPS to the rescue) to refuel a boat.

When the drug runners come under attack by U.S. Coast Guard boats they typically pitch their rather large bales of cocaine overboard and, owing to a curious combination of wind and currents, those bales (and sometimes barrels of money as well) tend to wash up here. It used to be that the Colombians would buy the drugs back, but from what I’ve read the Indians have decided to stop that tradition and now get rid of it them themselves. And apparently the Colombian drug runners won’t mess with the Mosquito, who are heavily armed, well-organized and have been defending this area for going on six hundred years. In short, they are not people to fuck with — as the Spanish, British, the Nicaraguan Army, the U.S. special forces and a number of other erstwhile challengers have discovered over the years.

Thus, while it certainly isn’t common, the white lobster, as the bales of cocaine are known here, does turn up from time to time. As do barrels of money. For instance, according to local gossip, the woman who owns the guesthouse next to Carlito’s discovered a barrel with $80,000 inside — more than enough to open a profitable guesthouse.

As you might expect, this shady past has made for a bit unrest over the years. As little as six years ago, Little Corn was a very sketchy place. Local residents lined their houses with razor wire and the Casa Iguana Guesthouse had a bucket full a machetes available for any guests that were brave (or foolish) enough to even venture out at night. Luckily for those of us that probably wouldn’t fare well in a machete fight, those days are largely over.

Corrinne and I, Little Corn Island, Nicaragua There are still “incidents” on the island, but it’s the tamer, stealing-stuff-from-rooms that happens in any isolated, yet heavily visited area, rather than the more violent holdups.

But if you’ve heard the stories floating around the internet about trouble on Little Corn and you’re hesitating to go, don’t. It’s perfectly safe and you’ll love it.

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Thoughts?

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All comments are moderated, so you won’t see it right away. And please remember Kurt Vonnegut's rule: “god damn it, you’ve got to be kind.” You can use Markdown or HTML to format your comments. The allowed tags are <b>, <i>, <em>, <strong>, <a>. To create a new paragraph hit return twice.

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- - - - - - - diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2008/04/little-island-sun.txt b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2008/04/little-island-sun.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3140115..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2008/04/little-island-sun.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,44 +0,0 @@ -Little Island in the Sun -======================== - - by Scott Gilbertson - - Saturday, 05 April 2008 - -From [San Juan Del Sur][1] we caught a cab back to Rivas (much faster driver this time), then a bus to Managua, switched to another bus out to the airport, then hopped a plane to Bluefields and then on to Big Corn Island where we jumped in a boat to Little Corn Island. Pretty much every form of transportation in Nicaragua in a single journey (there are no trains unfortunately). To get from the airport to San Juan Del Sur we spent $40 each. To do the same thing in reverse we paid $6 each. That's called figuring it out. - -[1]: http://luxagraf.net/2008/apr/02/return-sea/ - - Palm Tree, Little Corn Island, Nicaragua

Palm Tree, Little Corn Island, Nicaragua

Of that journey the only stressful part was the puddle-jumper flight from Managua to Big Corn on an airline that's apparently sketchy enough that U.S. diplomats aren't allowed to fly on it. However, we met up with Kenso and Melissa again a few days later and I asked Kenso about it and he waved his hand dismissively and said the planes were fine (he's flown some pretty sketchy stuff for the U.N. in Africa so I figured it was okay and I relaxed somewhat on the flight back). - -We arrived on Little Corn Island around sundown and met a man I at first took to be a tout who showed us the way to the guesthouse we wanted to stay in. After settling in an getting a feel for the island I realized that Ali, the man, wasn't a tout, he was just a really nice guy who enjoyed doing favors for tourists. He would accept the occasional tip, but he wasn't in it for the money. - - - -The truth is there's just very little to do on Little Corn Island, so helping tourists passes the time. The only people that work what you and I might call a full day are the guesthouse owners and the fishermen. Pretty much everyone else seemed to not have much to do (and we were there during the the three month off season for lobster fisherman so the island was pretty well laid back). - - Carlito's Guesthouse, Little Corn Island, Nicaragua

Carlito's Guesthouse, Little Corn Island, Nicaragua

In short, Little Corn Island is basically paradise. We stayed at Carlito's Sunrise Paradise ($25 a night, A+, highly recommended) and were about ten paces from the water. One afternoon I took a short nap and I sat up in bed and noticed the view you see in the photo to the right. - -Carlito's, like most of the guesthouses on the island, consisted of a few huts, some shaded tables by the water and central eating area. And of course the most important part -- the hammocks slug between pretty much any two appropriately spaced objects. - -The interesting thing about the Corn Islands is that they're more or less a totally separate experience from mainland Nicaragua. English is the primary language and the native people are of African descent. Naturally there are a number of Misquitos as well as Spanish descendant people, but for the most part the Caribbean coast is a bit like transplanting say, Jamaica, to Nicaragua. - -The Corn Islands are part of an autonomous zone in Nicaragua. I won't pretend to understand the nuances of the government setup here, but as I understand it, the Mosquito Indians pretty much control things and government of Nicaragua supports them (for the most part) but doesn't seem to interfere too much. - -This region of the Caribbean has long been a hangout for pirates and smugglers -- especially these islands, which were a favorite for British pirates waiting to hit the Spanish Galleons coming across the Gulf of Mexico. - - Beach, Little Corn Island, Nicaragua

The pirating tradition continues to day with drug running boats. Drug-running boats en route from Colombia to Miami pass through this area. Though the boats no longer stop on the islands, every now and then someone loads a panga (local outboard boat) with gasoline and heads out into the sea (GPS to the rescue) to refuel a boat. - -When the drug runners come under attack by U.S. Coast Guard boats they typically pitch their rather large bales of cocaine overboard and, owing to a curious combination of wind and currents, those bales (and sometimes barrels of money as well) tend to wash up here. It used to be that the Colombians would buy the drugs back, but from what I've read the Indians have decided to stop that tradition and now get rid of it them themselves. And apparently the Colombian drug runners won't mess with the Mosquito, who are heavily armed, well-organized and have been defending this area for going on six hundred years. In short, they are not people to fuck with -- as the Spanish, British, the Nicaraguan Army, the U.S. special forces and a number of other erstwhile challengers have discovered over the years. - -Thus, while it certainly isn't common, the white lobster, as the bales of cocaine are known here, does turn up from time to time. As do barrels of money. For instance, according to local gossip, the woman who owns the guesthouse next to Carlito's discovered a barrel with $80,000 inside -- more than enough to open a profitable guesthouse. - -As you might expect, this shady past has made for a bit unrest over the years. As little as six years ago, Little Corn was a very sketchy place. Local residents lined their houses with razor wire and the [Casa Iguana Guesthouse][2] had a bucket full a machetes available for any guests that were brave (or foolish) enough to even venture out at night. Luckily for those of us that probably wouldn't fare well in a machete fight, those days are largely over. - -[2]: http://www.casaiguana.net/ - - Corrinne and I, Little Corn Island, Nicaragua

Corrinne and I, Little Corn Island, Nicaragua

There are still "incidents" on the island, but it's the tamer, stealing-stuff-from-rooms that happens in any isolated, yet heavily visited area, rather than the more violent holdups. - -For the record I never felt unsafe on Little Corn and we walked around at night quite a bit, alone even. Of course some of that has to do with the massively increased police presence that the government sent over for Semana Santa (Easter) who are still on the island. - -But if you've heard the stories floating around the internet about trouble on Little Corn and you're hesitating to go, don't. It's perfectly safe and you'll love it. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2008/04/return-sea.amp b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2008/04/return-sea.amp deleted file mode 100644 index 2d45399..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2008/04/return-sea.amp +++ /dev/null @@ -1,194 +0,0 @@ - - - - - - -Return to the Sea - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Return to the Sea

- April 2, 2008 - - -

Rivas was hot, dusty and filled with touts clamoring to shove you a cab bound for just about anywhere but Rivas itself. Not being the sort of tourists that like to disappoint a determined tout, we ended up in one of those cabs, along with a couple of Nicaraguans, bound for the Pacific coast town of San Juan Del Sur.

-From Granada we caught a chicken bus south, headed for Rivas. Southwestern Nicaragua is a very small strip of land with Lago Nicaragua to the east and the Pacific Ocean to the west. Rivas is smack dab in the middle of that strip, a kind of stopping off point rather than a destination, almost like a border town, despite the fact that the border is another hour south.

You essentially have two choices in Rivas: go east to the lake, visit Isle Ometepe and some of the other islands and small towns along the coast, or, go west to San Juan Del Sur and the other fishing villages along the Pacific (there's also the third option of continuing on to the Costa Rican border, but that wasn't in our plans).

Curiously enough, the morning we left for Nicaragua we stopped off for a cup of coffee at Jittery Joe's and ran into our friend Nelson, who we hadn't seen since we moved back to town. In one of those strange twists of fate that I've come to accept, it turned out that Nelson had just gotten back from Nicaragua the night before. We proceeded to do a quick five minute brain pick and came up with San Juan Del Sur, which is why we found ourselves trapped in a mid-90s Nissan sedan with the world's slowest cab driver.

San Juan Del Sur proper is nestled around a well protected harbor with a mediocre strip of sand. For the good surf and nice beaches you have to head up or down the coast to one of the many small inlets. And that means you'll either have to catch a cab or take one of several 4x4 drive bus thingies (like troop carrying trucks essentially).

The problem is that if you stay in San Juan Del Sur, you'll end up spending a good chunk of money getting to the beach, and that has never made sense to me. We did take a cab two days, once to Playa Majagual and once to Playa Maderas, two beaches to the north of the harbor, but they were something of a letdown.

The beaches themselves were curiously deserted, literally. In two days on two different beaches we were totally alone -- save for our cab driver somewhere back over the dune sleeping in his car. Which is sort of where the letdown part comes in. I realize that we were paying him decent money, but I couldn't help feeling guilty that there was this poor guy waiting all afternoon in his car. I wouldn't want to do that, would you?

The third day we got it right, we didn't do anything or go anywhere. We lounged around in hammocks, had a stroll around the town, bought our own hammock and hit the harbor front restaurant/bar scene early.

We ended up taking an upscale room in San Juan Del Sur since the cheap stuff was pretty morbid (it's hard to pay $25 for a room that isn't half as nice as many of the $2 rooms you've had elsewhere). As it turned out a Canadian couple that we met briefly in Granada had exactly the same thought process and ended up in the room next to use at the Hotel Colonial ($46 a night, rating: A). Kenso and Melissa had perhaps a much better justification for splashing out in San Juan Del Sur since they had taken the "loft" at the Bearded Monkey Guesthouse. Corrinne and I were offered the loft when we arrived at the Bearded Monkey, but we elected to hold out for a private room (which we ended up getting, thank god).

Kenso and Melissa arrived after us and found that, since we had snatched the last private room, they were stuck with the loft, which was essentially a 4 x 8 sheet of plywood nailed midway up a high-ceiling hallway. Not only was there little in the way of privacy, you had to climb a rather precarious ladder to get in and out -- no small feat when you're in a country where beer is only a dollar.

Somehow they managed to survive and check in next to us at the Hotel Colonial in San Juan Del Sur (and they were nice enough to bear no outward grudge for stealing the last room in Granada).

However after three days we felt like we had more or less exhausted San Juan Del Sur. The combination of high prices and a plethora of rather obnoxious American ex-pats that seemed to generally hail from Los Angeles or some equally dreadful American metropolis sort of turned us off.

San Juan Del Sur is worth a visit, just don't be surprised when you find a battered paperback novel selling for $40 at a coffee shop where no one speaks Spanish. Americans are a cancer, someone needs to stop us (as a friend recently pointed out, something, not someone, is going to stop us -- the Euro).

And really it isn't that bad. Though San Juan Del Sur may not be my favorite spot in Nicaragua, there is something to be said for watching the Pacific sunsets over a plate of lobster and a cold beer. Life could be a whole lot worse.

- - - diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2008/04/return-sea.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2008/04/return-sea.html deleted file mode 100644 index a33886e..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2008/04/return-sea.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,347 +0,0 @@ - - - - - Return To The Sea - by Scott Gilbertson - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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Return to the Sea

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San Juan Del Sur, Nicaragua

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- April 2, 2008 - -

- San Juan Del Sur
-harborfront From Granada we caught a chicken bus south, headed for Rivas. Southwestern Nicaragua is a very small strip of land with Lago Nicaragua to the east and the Pacific Ocean to the west. Rivas is smack dab in the middle of that strip, a kind of stopping off point rather than a destination, almost like a border town, despite the fact that the border is another hour south.

You essentially have two choices in Rivas: go east to the lake, visit Isle Ometepe and some of the other islands and small towns along the coast, or, go west to San Juan Del Sur and the other fishing villages along the Pacific (there’s also the third option of continuing on to the Costa Rican border, but that wasn’t in our plans).

Curiously enough, the morning we left for Nicaragua we stopped off for a cup of coffee at Jittery Joe’s and ran into our friend Nelson, who we hadn’t seen since we moved back to town. In one of those strange twists of fate that I’ve come to accept, it turned out that Nelson had just gotten back from Nicaragua the night before. We proceeded to do a quick five minute brain pick and came up with San Juan Del Sur, which is why we found ourselves trapped in a mid-90s Nissan sedan with the world’s slowest cab driver.

Playa Majagual The Pacific coast of Nicaragua has long been famous in surfer circles for its near-perfect and seemingly endless breaks (it’s featured in Endless Summer if you’re into that sort of thing). The last time I went surfing Quicksilver was still run out of a garage and I have no real desire to take it up again, but I rarely say no to some time by ocean.

San Juan Del Sur proper surrounds a well protected harbor with a mediocre strip of sand. For the good surf and nice beaches you have to head up or down the coast to one of the many small inlets. And that means you’ll either have to catch a cab or take one of several 4x4 drive bus thingies (like troop carrying trucks essentially).

The problem is that if you stay in San Juan Del Sur, you’ll end up spending a good chunk of money getting to the beach, and that has never made sense to me. We did take a cab two days, once to Playa Majagual and once to Playa Maderas, two beaches to the north of the harbor, but they were something of a letdown.

The beaches themselves were curiously deserted, literally. In two days on two different beaches we were totally alone — save for our cab driver somewhere back over the dune sleeping in his car. Which is sort of where the letdown part comes in. I realize that we were paying him decent money, but I couldn’t help feeling guilty that there was this poor guy waiting all afternoon in his car. I wouldn’t want to do that, would you?

Hammock, Hotel Colonial The guilt, coupled with the gusts of wind that whipped the sand against your skin a bit like a low grade sandblaster (come to San Juan Del Sur, free exfoliating while you wait!) made the beaches, well, something of a letdown.

The third day we got it right, we didn’t do anything or go anywhere. We lounged around in hammocks, had a stroll around the town, bought our own hammock and hit the harbor front restaurant/bar scene early.

We ended up taking an upscale room in San Juan Del Sur since the cheap stuff was pretty morbid (it’s hard to pay $25 for a room that isn’t half as nice as many of the $2 rooms you’ve had elsewhere). As it turned out a Canadian couple that we met briefly in Granada had exactly the same thought process and ended up in the room next to use at the Hotel Colonial ($46 a night, rating: A). Kenso and Melissa had perhaps a much better justification for splashing out in San Juan Del Sur since they had taken the “loft” at the Bearded Monkey Guesthouse. Corrinne and I were offered the loft when we arrived at the Bearded Monkey, but we elected to hold out for a private room (which we ended up getting, thank god).

Kenso and Melissa arrived after us and found that, since we had snatched the last private room, they were stuck with the loft, which was essentially a 4 x 8 sheet of plywood nailed midway up a high-ceiling hallway. Not only was there little in the way of privacy, you had to climb a rather precarious ladder to get in and out — no small feat when you’re in a country where beer is only a dollar.

Somehow they managed to survive and check in next to us at the Hotel Colonial in San Juan Del Sur (and they were nice enough to bear no outward grudge for stealing the last room in Granada).

sunset San Juan Del Sur
-harborfront Kenso and Melissa were on basically the same trip we were, though after San Juan Del Sur they opted to head to Ometepe while we went straight over to the Corn Island. But we spent a couple nights in one of the many near anonymous restaurants that line the harbor front, talking with Melissa and Kenso and watching the sunset while we ate lobster, fried plantains and, of course, the ever-present gallo y pinto.

San Juan Del Sur is worth a visit, just don’t be surprised when you find a battered paperback novel selling for $40 at a coffee shop where no one speaks Spanish. Americans are a cancer, someone needs to stop us (as a friend recently pointed out, something, not someone, is going to stop us — the Euro).

And really it isn’t that bad. Though San Juan Del Sur may not be my favorite spot in Nicaragua, there is something to be said for watching the Pacific sunsets over a plate of lobster and a cold beer. Life could be a whole lot worse.

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Thoughts?

Please leave a reply:

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- - - - - - - diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2008/04/return-sea.txt b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2008/04/return-sea.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 846d3d0..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2008/04/return-sea.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,43 +0,0 @@ -Return to the Sea -================= - - by Scott Gilbertson - - Wednesday, 02 April 2008 - -Rivas was hot, dusty and filled with touts clamoring to shove you a cab bound for just about anywhere but Rivas itself. Not being the sort of tourists that like to disappoint a determined tout, we ended up in one of those cabs, along with a couple of Nicaraguans, bound for the Pacific coast town of San Juan Del Sur. - - - San Juan Del Sur
-harborfront

From Granada we caught a chicken bus south, headed for Rivas. Southwestern Nicaragua is a very small strip of land with Lago Nicaragua to the east and the Pacific Ocean to the west. Rivas is smack dab in the middle of that strip, a kind of stopping off point rather than a destination, almost like a border town, despite the fact that the border is another hour south. - -You essentially have two choices in Rivas: go east to the lake, visit Isle Ometepe and some of the other islands and small towns along the coast, or, go west to San Juan Del Sur and the other fishing villages along the Pacific (there's also the third option of continuing on to the Costa Rican border, but that wasn't in our plans). - -Curiously enough, the morning we left for Nicaragua we stopped off for a cup of coffee at Jittery Joe's and ran into our friend Nelson, who we hadn't seen since we moved back to town. In one of those strange twists of fate that I've come to accept, it turned out that Nelson had just gotten back from Nicaragua the night before. We proceeded to do a quick five minute brain pick and came up with San Juan Del Sur, which is why we found ourselves trapped in a mid-90s Nissan sedan with the world's slowest cab driver. - -

The Pacific coast of Nicaragua has long been famous in surfer circles for its near-perfect and seemingly endless breaks (it's featured in Endless Summer if you're into that sort of thing). The last time I went surfing Quicksilver was still run out of a garage and I have no real desire to take it up again, but I rarely say no to some time by ocean. - -San Juan Del Sur proper surrounds a well protected harbor with a mediocre strip of sand. For the good surf and nice beaches you have to head up or down the coast to one of the many small inlets. And that means you'll either have to catch a cab or take one of several 4x4 drive bus thingies (like troop carrying trucks essentially). - -The problem is that if you stay in San Juan Del Sur, you'll end up spending a good chunk of money getting to the beach, and that has never made sense to me. We did take a cab two days, once to Playa Majagual and once to Playa Maderas, two beaches to the north of the harbor, but they were something of a letdown. - -The beaches themselves were curiously deserted, literally. In two days on two different beaches we were totally alone -- save for our cab driver somewhere back over the dune sleeping in his car. Which is sort of where the letdown part comes in. I realize that we were paying him decent money, but I couldn't help feeling guilty that there was this poor guy waiting all afternoon in his car. I wouldn't want to do that, would you? - - Hammock, Hotel Colonial

The guilt, coupled with the gusts of wind that whipped the sand against your skin a bit like a low grade sandblaster (come to San Juan Del Sur, free exfoliating while you wait!) made the beaches, well, something of a letdown. - -The third day we got it right, we didn't do anything or go anywhere. We lounged around in hammocks, had a stroll around the town, bought our own hammock and hit the harbor front restaurant/bar scene early. - -We ended up taking an upscale room in San Juan Del Sur since the cheap stuff was pretty morbid (it's hard to pay $25 for a room that isn't half as nice as many of the $2 rooms you've had elsewhere). As it turned out a Canadian couple that we met briefly in Granada had exactly the same thought process and ended up in the room next to use at the Hotel Colonial ($46 a night, rating: A). Kenso and Melissa had perhaps a much better justification for splashing out in San Juan Del Sur since they had taken the "loft" at the Bearded Monkey Guesthouse. Corrinne and I were offered the loft when we arrived at the Bearded Monkey, but we elected to hold out for a private room (which we ended up getting, thank god). - -Kenso and Melissa arrived after us and found that, since we had snatched the last private room, they were stuck with the loft, which was essentially a 4 x 8 sheet of plywood nailed midway up a high-ceiling hallway. Not only was there little in the way of privacy, you had to climb a rather precarious ladder to get in and out -- no small feat when you're in a country where beer is only a dollar. - -Somehow they managed to survive and check in next to us at the Hotel Colonial in San Juan Del Sur (and they were nice enough to bear no outward grudge for stealing the last room in Granada). - - sunset San Juan Del Sur
-harborfront

Kenso and Melissa were on basically the same trip we were, though after San Juan Del Sur they opted to head to Ometepe while we went straight over to the Corn Island. But we spent a couple nights in one of the many near anonymous restaurants that line the harbor front, talking with Melissa and Kenso and watching the sunset while we ate lobster, fried plantains and, of course, the ever-present gallo y pinto. - -However after three days we felt like we had more or less exhausted San Juan Del Sur. The combination of high prices and a plethora of rather obnoxious American ex-pats that seemed to generally hail from Los Angeles or some equally dreadful American metropolis sort of turned us off. - -San Juan Del Sur is worth a visit, just don't be surprised when you find a battered paperback novel selling for $40 at a coffee shop where no one speaks Spanish. Americans are a cancer, someone needs to stop us (as a friend recently pointed out, something, not someone, is going to stop us -- the Euro). - -And really it isn't that bad. Though San Juan Del Sur may not be my favorite spot in Nicaragua, there is something to be said for watching the Pacific sunsets over a plate of lobster and a cold beer. Life could be a whole lot worse. -- cgit v1.2.3-70-g09d2