Oh My! Ometepe!

Hola - Smitty here :)

Leaving the Tree house was easy enough to do, for me anyway. It was a beautiful place and the idea behind it was equally so but at that moment it just wasn’t satisfying my travel taste-buds. We walked out of the forest and across the yellowing pasture of the farm below until we arrived at the main road.  We were a pack of typical gringo backpackers waiting to hitch a ride or jump onto the next passing chicken bus, and the latter was what we ended up doing.  Rounded up like a bunch of stray cattle, we shuffled into the back of the chicken bus and swayed back and forth as the bus bumped along in the heat of the day.  It took us as far as Rivas before we needed to take a taxi to the docks on our way to the island of Ometepe.

The ferry ride was an hour or so and as scenic as ever, but the children on board that didn’t enjoy the swell on the massive lake were reason enough for me to put my headphones on and fade away for a bit.

We learned right off that the taxis on Ometepe are expensive, but on this occasion a necessary evil.  We were happy to get away from the pack after we picked a place that wasn’t in everyone’s budget (the decision making process of the pack was falling apart.)  Just as we were checking in we saw some Swedes we knew from El Tunco and word on the street was that there was a good party “just down the road” that night so, that was the plan.  “Just down the road” was “just a little bit of an understatement” as we walked for nearly an hour and without my headlamp the darkness would have swallowed us up. We drank shots of moonshine (yes moonshine in Nicaragua) and caught up with our Swedish friends.

We had a few rainy days on the island where we caught up on life and relaxed under the thatched roof of the open air restaurant of our Hotel, Santa Cruz which was lazy but much appreciated.  Renting bikes was a must, and made me feel like a kid again as we cruised along the winding roads with volcanos on the horizons in either direction.  “Picinas de las Ojas” was a half hour bike ride that brought us to a luxurious spot in nature where refreshing pools and fresh coconuts made our afternoon completely enjoyable. Our last night was cloudy but we were offered an unbeatable view of one of the two monstrous volcanoes on the island. 

I wish I could say that we did a lot more in the way of activities while there but truth be told we were as lazy as a pair of sloths on a Sunday afternoon, and we had a few Sunday afternoons on that island.

Granada: A Hit and Run

I wish I had seen and done more in Grenada then ended up happening.  Granada is quite a beautiful and quaint colonial city that I found to be more aesthetically pleasing than that of Leon or Antigua (ha you all know how I feel about Antigua). Granada has a busy central park area that I was quite drawn to on our first afternoon in the city. Regan was catching up on much needed hours of sleep and I was itching to move around after the bus ride so I sauntered into town when Regan’s siesta began.  There are some local artisan markets located on the edges of the park and all around it, food and drink stands occupy the outline of the park, making it the afternoon local social mecca of Granada. I bought myself an old school glass bottle of orange Fanta and found myself a park bench from which to people watch and catch up on my journal. 

I didn’t have my journal open more than a minute before I noticed an old man on my right walking his bike right past my bench.  He smiled kindly and said ‘hola’ and I returned the gesture with the same kind of smile.  Before I knew it, we were in the midst of a long conversation, one I didn’t expect to end anytime soon but that was okay. In fact it was great and refreshing to finally just meet someone and have the type of Spanish conversation I had been dying to have for a long time.  His name was Guillermo and he was a genuine, kind old Nica man that sat down on my bench and brightened my whole afternoon with simple conversation and laughter that could be considered contagious. We talked and talked, and in moments sometimes we just people watched and observed out loud our thoughts, he was comical and I valued the slight differences in his understanding of life.  Some people will come in and out of your life on the most unexpected days and make a lasting impression on you that you could never forget. This was the old man Guillermo to me on that lazy Saturday afternoon.

On the day that Regan made her journey to the Tree House Hostel, I stayed at the Bearded Monkey and had a business day.  I washed my clothes, did a little food shopping, made some calls to corporate enterprises in the states via Nicaraguan Skype (terrible experience) and received a whole bunch of new movies from my friends in the hostel doing exactly the same things.  I caught up with her there the next day, but its always nice to reset yourself for a day while on the open road.

Narrator switch- it's Regan now. While Katie had her business day in Granada (a city I found quite charming but overall a bit tourist-meets-university style) I headed off for the Treehouse Hostel, just outside the city. True to its word, the main building is indeed a treehouse, complete with rope bridges and connecting platforms. It was a pretty laid back place, with most of us choosing to read or chat during the day. Night time was a pretty different story, however. We gathered for an incredible sunset, and then the fun began! 

After a family dinner with some of the best homemade bread I've ever tasted, the drinking began with a medley of games, including a race to see who had the fastest time through the obstacle course. You start by taking a shot, chugging a beer, running up the stairs to the upper floor- dodging chairs, a table, and cats- and then sliding down a fire pole and darting to tag the bar again. Given my history of being utterly and completely accident prone, I sat that one out. 

Next came the cicadas. This place is literally abuzz with these flying monstrosities. During the day the level is at a dull roar, but at night the sound is deafening, and their attraction to the lights is absolutely moronic. Being the size of cockroaches, these things are more like kamikazes than bugs as they dive bomb around the open-air hostel. One of the cats, aptly named Lunchbox, catches and eats these things at an appalling pace; I'd say it averages 2 cicadas per minute. We chose to follow suit, except we de-winged (not a word? It is now) ours and fried them in garlic butter. Garlic, as we all know, makes everything delicious. Cicadas are no exception. 

The night ended with ceiling footprints. Yes, ceiling footprints. The ceiling over the bar is covered with footprints and signed names, usually accompanied by a year and/or country. Getting up there is your own challenge. I opted for the easy way out and had two guys lift me while a third person used my painted foot as a stamp and guided me to an open spot. A few of my fellow hostel-goers were more creative, doing handstands or wild swings from the fire pole. Some of these feats ended well. Others... well, at least they were most likely beyond pain at that point. 

Katie joined the next day, and was greeted by a far more subdued hostel than I had walked into. A chill day in the woods, with a short trip to the beach, was followed by an equally low-key movie night. While we enjoyed the relaxation and isolation of the Treehouse, we made moves to head out the following day. 

Life in Leon Part II aka The Epitome of Chill

Hey mates, Regan here! As we've been running a bit behind, let me give you a sense of the time period we're writing about (yeah, yeah we know, shame on us for being terrible blog-keepers. We're trying!) My part of the story starts on January 1st in Leon and ends with our departure to Granada on February 6th.   

So we had an epic time in the city of Leon, but felt we needed a bit of beach and chill time. Enter the Surfing Turtle Lodge, an eco-friendly hostel outside of Leon that also serves as a turtle hatchery and rescue center. Along with our little brother Ieuan, as well as a friend we made who works at Bigfoot Hostel named Tim, and a new Aussie friend named Amer, we headed out for a night at the beach. After a seriously cramped cab ride to Poneloya, we crossed low-tide to the island (shuffling our feet to deter sting rays... they like to hang out at the bottom and do NOT appreciate being trodden on) and then hiked the 20 minutes to the beautifully secluded lodge. We spent a day just reading at the beach and making friends with the girls who worked there. As the only current guests, we had the place to ourselves! The beach was empty, and we spent the day drinking cocktails, swimming, and watching the boys go for a sunset surf. The night was filled with dancing and an awesome poi fire show by Tim. 

For those of you unfamiliar with poi, check out some YouTube clips- serious talent involved in this. We first saw it in Thailand, and have seen a few people with amazing skills along this trip. Tim started with fire poi with a set borrowed from the locals, and then switched to a colorful electric set he had brought, which allowed us the chance to try it safely (although I still managed to bruise my shin pretty well. No one was surprised). It allowed us to gain some serious appreciation as to how these people avoid lighting their own hair on fire. 

We returned to Leon on Friday and were treated to a night out by Breno, a Brazilian working at Bigfoot. He loaded the hostel truck up with a bunch of us and took us to a great bar/restaurant, whose name I can't remember for the life of me. They were having an open mic night, and we heard some serious talent, including the owner of the restaurant, who treated us to a few songs in a truly beautiful singing voice. I learned to salsa a bit (read: followed Breno's lead and tried not to step on his feet) and Katie and I both had an awesome time. We loaded up the crew again and made for Camaleon, a cheekily named nightclub (check the translation, note the double meaning, and have a little chuckle) that ends up being the favorite late-night party spot. Dancing, tequila shots, repeat. 

The following day, hurting a little bit, Katie and I dragged ourselves out of bed (bit of a struggle... we ain't as young as we used to be!) and made moves to go to Rancho Tranquilo, run by Tina the Gringo, who hails from the US of A and has relocated in Nicaragua to run a pretty chill hostel near the beaches of Jiquilillo. Getting there was quite an adventure, involving a serious trip on the aforementioned Chicken Buses. We hopped a taxi to Chinandega and snagged a bus just as it was leaving. Another way to word this is- we were smushed into a bus that was at least 20 people over capacity and had all its fire exits welded shut.

 Nearly 4 hours later, we had finally made it to what was by far the most off-the-grid and secluded hostel we'd been to so far. No Internet, no TV, no local bars, just us and Crazy Tina for company. We didn't even know who'd won the Superbowl until two days later when we returned to Leon! Most of our days there were started with morning runs in the surf line and then spent reading on the beach, soaking up the sun and utterly oblivous to time and the real world. I cruised through five books in a few days, leading one of the hostel's housekeepers to declare "I'm very surprised that you don't have a bigger head, because you must have a big brain".  Not sure if offended...? 

We stayed in blissful isolation until Tuesday morning, when we headed back to Leon, choosing an alternate route that did not involve aggressive jostling for standing room on an overcrowded bus. After a memorable last night in Leon, we hit the road again, bound for Granada. 

Life in Leon Part 1

Regan and I left El Tunco early in the A.M. and still under the influence. I revived myself with a much needed detox smoothie and fortunately my travel buds allowed me to take shot-gun in our mini-van for the 10 hour ride.  At this point in time, Regan and I were on the road with our friend Ieuan (pronounced Yayan) from Whales and he soon gained the nickname of "little brother" for all his "brother-like" tendencies, both good and...yeah.

It was easy enough to get out of El Salvador; paved windy roads brought us along the coast and eventually navigated inward towards the boarder of Honduras.  The beneficial thing about this particular bus was that 1) it had Wifi so it was a good time for business if you had a laptop or iphone 2) AC = AWESOME and 3) the driver of the van took care of everyone's boarder crossings meaning, we just handed him our passports and boarder fees and chilled in the van while he sorted everything out.  The bus fare for this trip is slightly more expensive for this reason, but it is easier for him and easier for us as boarder crossings can be spread out and confusing for non-native Spanish speakers now and again.

10 hours later, we were parked outside Bigfoot Hostel in Leon, and man were we stoked to check in and get a drink at the hostel bar!  After a late order for pizza and a few brews, the day of traveling, and a hangover that sent me back to my college days, it was official that the day had kicked our ass and so we hit the hay and slept like babies. 

The next week was culture and Mayhem, all rolled up into this detailed summary of events:

Sunday- Cock Fights: For $12USD, you get round trip transport, open-bar and a tutorial from the guide on Nicaraguan cock fighting.  Now, I know some of you readers are not in support of seeing this, totally cool.  I went back and forth morally about this and I still do, however for me it was a different way to see a part of Nica culture and gave me a more well-rounded view of local life down here.  I also believed that judging this without having a better understanding of it would not be cool for me personally so I made moves to educate myself. Overall, I'm glad I learned about it, there's a lot more behind this than people know.

Monday- Kind of a chill day in Leon for us.  Our buddy Ieuan took us around Leon, giving us the tourist tour of the city ("this bar is good" or "best street food is right here" etc.).  We did some errands and shopped, and after building up a sweat - this city gets HOTT - went for an ice cream and played a little air-hockey where I proceeded to kick everyones ass. Thanks dad- for making me such a good air-hockey player.

Tuesday- Volcano Boarding.  I'm Sorry, I meant VOLCANO BOARDING!! What an epic day! While all you kids where chillin' out in the snow (no pun intended) we were getting our sweat on hiking up the active volcano known as Cerro Negro, where some people have hit speeds of up to 90km/hr. LOCO! *** If you go, I would suggest acquiring a bandana you can rip in two, and tie the ankles of your suit tight to you, so that your legs don't get torn up by the volcanic rocks.  Bigfoot hostel ends your tour with beer, cookies and mojitos :) What could be better?!

Wednesday- Leon does it big for 'El Classico' the annual match(es) between FC Barcelona and Real Madrid. We got some drinks in and watched the game at a popular sports bar with a massive projector screen and plenty of crazy locals in support of both sides.  1-1 result and an afternoon followed by more drinks... :)

Oh Leon, layin' it on us every day and night. Regan will let you in on the rest of our crazy week.

El Tunco Part 2: Tunco Tips and Blips

Hola, Smitty here! Sometimes I think its a little hard to say exactly what you want to say when you find yourself in a place that speaks to you without needing to say anything at all.  El Tunco is a place that shifts in shape, and if you will it, it can be exactly what you need it to be for you in that moment. Regan got a little unlucky in her time there (she is without question a tough chica) but I think she would tell you that without an injury, Tunco is a sound spot to post up and enjoy yourself.

That said, WHAT A WICKED WEEK!

As a beach girl by nature, I was pretty hooked right away.  Getting away from Antigua's city life and getting back to living in board-shorts and beach dresses was essential to my well-being. 

The Beach: They call it 'El Tunco' because the rocks right off shore supposedly look like a gigantic roast pig (the Spanish translation). A few highlights of this particular beach are as follows:
1- No sand flies! that's right people - you can cruise around this beach at sunset and all through the night without getting eaten up and looking like a chicken-pox victim the next day. I wont say mosquitos are completely non existent, but its way better here then most other beaches we've been to.
2- Black volcanic Sand: its pretty lovely stuff, soft and pretty and different, but CUIDADO (careful!) because by 11am - that stuff is en FUEGO (fire) and without sandals, tramping around can prove deadly.
3- Surfing: while Regan and I aren't exactly seasoned surfers, (okay we pretty much suck) renting a board is pretty cheap down this way. $5USD for a 1/2 day and $10 for an hour lesson + and hour after to mess around and test your skillz. WORD!  Also, for the more experienced wave rider, Tunco has a beautiful point break known as Sunzal which gets pretty nice sized waves with a channel to the left making for a white-wash free paddle out.  Enjoy a sunset out there on the water and remind yourself where you are, I guarantee you won't forget it.

ON LEAVING: During the high season, it is very easy to get to El Tunco, but we found it pretty tricky when it came to leaving. Buses OUT of El Tunco book up very fast and only run 4 days a week so make sure if you're on a tight schedule, that you look into out-going buses early on in your stay.  We paid $50 USD to go from there to Leon, Nicaragua and booked our bus 5 days in advance.

Like Regan said, El Tunco is pretty small; 2 main streets are what make up this fun little beach scene. That being said, while I know some people who have gotten stuck there for months at a time, I personally LOVED it as a vacation location, and would go back many times over on somewhat shorter trips. It was a great place to re-connect with people from earlier on in our trip, (since it's such a popular destination within El Salvador) as well as meet a whole slew of crazy new characters we now call amigos.

Enjoy El Tunco! Ladies; VIVA ladies night and fellas, VIVA ladies night too.  Go to Take-a-Wok and get the best Asian stir-fry, rent a board and catch some waves, take a late night skinny dip with your silly friends, and get a ginger shot at the smoothie bar when the hangover kicks in!

Tunco Part I (or- "Why Shoes are Awesome")

So after our exhausting/exhilarating/epic time in San Pedro, Katie and I decided it was high time we got back to the coast. We hitched a shuttle back to Antigua, and spent two "business days" (aka she hunted for necessities like a camera charger, while I was laid up with food poisoning) before grabbing a bus to El Tunco, a beach in El Salvador. We got a bunk at a hostel called Papaya, and immediately fell in love with Tunco.

El Tunco is a little surf town with two main roads, a few clubs, a long stretch of beach, and not much else. The closest main town is La Libertad, which is a 30 minute ride by "chicken bus". We haven't quite decided why they're referred to as "chicken buses"... perhaps because they cram you in there like chickens in a truck? Or it may be the fact that it wouldn't be entirely surprising to find someone transporting a chicken or two with them. Either way, these buses are retired (read: didn't pass inspection) school buses from the US that have been painted ridiculous colors and utilized as a form of hectic public transport here. All in all they're fairly cheap and efficient, if ridiculously crowded, loud, and unpredictable.

Anyway, our second night there a few of us decided to cook a family style meal at Papaya. Into the chicken bus we piled, and proceeded to hang on for dear life as we cruised into Libertad. We opted to hitchhike  in the back of a pickup truck on the way home, just to round out the experience. Two hours later, about ten of us were dining on veggie pasta, garlic bread, ginger stir fry, and more than a few bottles of wine. Dinners like those are definitely our favorite parts of hostel living!

A few hours after dinner everyone had moved onto a club called La Bocana, right on the beach. It was an equal mix of travelors and locals, and the place was packed. Everyone was dancing away to local pop music (with Gangnam Style thrown in for good measure), and overall having a great night. And then I decided to stomp on a broken bottle. Barefoot.

[SIDE NOTE: As a rule, we never go barefoot unless we're at the actual beach. We see it all the time, even in cities like Antigua, and think it's idiotic and unhygienic how many of our fellow travelers refuse to wear shoes, even in restaurants or grocery stores. Sorry if that offends anyone, but this is our blog so... we win.]

The events of this fateful Friday just added to reinforce that belief. I broke my own personal rule and kicked off the Havianas I kept tripping over as I made a pathetic attempt to salsa with a local on the dance-floor. Everyone else was doing it, why not me? Less than 30 seconds later I was sitting on the side of the club holding a sliced right foot and apologizing to the security guard (who was incredibly sweet and helpful) for bleeding all over his bar. Once I got over the shock of what I had just done- okay and stopped crying, I admit it- I hobbled my sorry butt back to our hostel, where luckily two of our friends were hanging out in the kitchen. Tanis helped me clean and bandage my foot while Greg ("because I have no idea what else to do") made us some epic grilled peanut butter and honey sandwiches.

Unfortunately, this was probably my most memorable event of Tunco. Don't get me wrong, I had a great time (as you'll soon read from Katie's post) trying to surf and meeting some truly amazing people. However, the memories of Kings Cup games with 15 people from 7+ countries (be a gecko!), gorgeous sunsets, and beach bonfires are sadly mixed in with memories of supergluing my wound shut, walking like a Crip, and changing the bandages and athletic tape 2-3x a day to keep the dirt and sand out. Summary of this post: Tunco is incredible, but keep your shoes on!

Livin la Vida at Lake Atitlan!

Hola -Smitty here, keeping things rollin' on...
We took a full day to recover after our New Years Eve night, it was necessary and we spent the day lounging around on bean bags and watching Guatemalan pirated DVD's at the hostel. I think I made a run to subway later that day too- the Italian BMT sub is Hangover Heaven!

The following day, we left with a friend and took a 2+ hour bus ride to Lake Atitlan.  Our shuttle took us on a winding road to the town of Panajachel, and from there we went to the docks and caught a water taxi across the lake to the town of San Pedro.  While en-route, I had the luxury of becoming a human shield for Caitlin and Al so that they would not get splashed on. (This was NOT a voluntary move and I was not pleased about coming out of the boat looking like a wet dog). 

When we got there, we followed our amigo who had been to San Pedro before, and wound up at a place called Café Atitlan.  I had a great first night out flying solo as my companions were dead tired and total party poopers. We moved the next day to another spot called Mr. Mullet's Hostel which became our home away from home.  For only 30Q/night (that's $3.70 USD!) we had a 4 person dorm, free Wifi, HOT SHOWERS (yes - few and far between) brand new mattress that allowed me to sleep like a baby, Kitchen, etc.  More then all the fabulous amenities,  what won me over was the atmosphere and the overall friendliness of the staff. The owner Tim aka Mr. Mullet himself, is a very chill guy and has put together a solid place for the weary traveler to rest his or her head. I highly recommend anyone passing through San Pedro to stay at Mullets- its cheap, its cozy, and its a real, real good time.

While we were in San Pedro we had a little fun and brightened our horizons with an array of new activities. We kayaked around the lake, we did an afternoon of horseback riding, explored the local market (where you can stuff yourself for less than $1 US dollar full of delicious local dishes) and we even attended a roaring local Basketball match, where some quetzals were thrown down for bets on the winner of the game.

One of the best things about San Pedro however, is the American Style BBQ that takes place at Deep End Bar & Pool every Sunday afternoon. You can get anything from beef or pork ribs, to burgers, rump steaks, even bacon wrapped fillet minion (and one plate can easily feed two people) They also do 5Q tequila shots on the hour, every hour [interjection from Caitlin: our group of friends teamed up with one goal in mind: DO NOT LET KATIE DISCOVER ITS THE FIRST FIVE MINUTES OF AN HOUR. She had the habit of showing up with a tray with 15 or more shots, and just scanning like a deadly eagle, looking for some poor person to hand a tequila shot to. Even more than she loves tequila, Katie loves making people do tequila shots with her. Especially once she finds out you loathe tequila]. Sunday, fun-day amigos!

I can honestly say that I had TOO much fun here, and eventually, to save myself from mortal peril due to excess enjoyment of life itself, we had to make moves to keep keeping on.

Author switch! So I agree with everything Katie said. San Pedro is an amazing place, probably the stop on our journey where I've felt most at home. There's a ton to do- kayaking, jumping off the "trampoline" at San Marcos, trivia night at El Barrio, impromptu Aussie weddings at Buddha Bar, horseback riding, poolside lounging, and heaps more. And yes, we did do ALL of the aforementioned activities. Our team did abysmally at trivia, I remembered my love-hate relationship with horses, and was a proud bridesmaid in the wedding of Brent and Taighen (our favorite Aussie couple, whom we first met in Lanquin. Fun fact- Brent is responsible for my "Reggie" nickname). Not sure if it'll hold up to Australian law, but it was good enough for all of us!

I also strongly agree with Katie's last statement- San Pedro will eat you alive if you aren't careful. From the deadly happy hour at Zoola hostel (free shot with every drink from 4-11pm), to the late night partying at Buddha bar, to the even LATER night after-party at Psy-House (an uninhabited house that turns into an unlicensed bar and trance club once everything else shuts down) it's easy to let itineraries, goals, and life in general slip away as you fall into a comfortable rhythm with great people. We planned on being there for a few days, and all of a sudden ten had flown by! I fully plan on returning to the Lake for the last portion of my trip, and can't wait to reunite with some truly epic individuals.