TravelStream™ news feed for member mikeandger on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/mikeandger en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Mon, 30 Jul 2007 15:17:02 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1183051620/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1183051620/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1183051620/tpod.html Mon, 30 Jul 2007 15:17:02 -0400 Adventure of a lifetime!

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

San Antonio De Belen, Costa Rica

We awoke to a crisp morning on June 28, 2007.  Since we had full water hook-ups at the Belen RV Park, Michael went outside after breakfast and grabbed the water hose.  It was time to give 'Nilla a bath. Her last washing had been in Belize at the Old Belize Marina and she was starting to look her age.  The process took several hours as there was mud caked in the wheel wells that required a lot of scraping. With daily rains and driving on dirt and sand covered roads any material that kicked up under the vehicle had hardened like concrete.  It was quite an effort to painstakingly chip away chunks of hardened sand, not to mention it was rough on the hands.   Michael did a fantastic job and once completed, we took a few snapshots of our pretty girl as she sparkled in the early morning sun.  While Michael was hard at work outside, Geraldine was busy inside 'Nilla burning all of our information off of the laptop.  We intended to head into San Jose today to have the entire system checked and hopefully fixed, which may have required uninstalling all our programs thereby deleting any data left on the computer.  This process also took several hours as we had accumulated a lot of folders, pictures and random information.  Once both tasks were completed, we sat down to a hearty breakfast of potatoes, ham and eggs before each taking a lengthy hot shower.  It was around 1:30 pm by the time we were ready to leave the RV Park.  Thinking that it was now too late to go into downtown San Jose, we drove the short distance to the internet café to check up with people back home.  We were nearly reading to leave the café, when Michael decided to ask the clerk if he knew of a computer repair facility in San Antonio de Belen.  The clerk mentioned that they had a repair technician on staff and he was due to show up for work in one hour.  How fortuitous.  We sat back and waited a mere hour and a half before the technician arrived.  We immediately pounced on him as a lion would its prey and he had no other option but to sit down and have a look at our laptop.  He found a couple of issues and spent the remainder of his three hour shift juggling his clientele and working on our computer.  When the shop closed at 8:00pm, he proudly hit the final button and announced that our laptop was once again connecting to the internet.  We were both overjoyed with the news and when the technician said he only wanted $5 for his efforts, we became ecstatic.  This had definitely turned out to be a great day.  It was dark outside when we stepped from the internet café.  Looking at our parking spot directly across from where we stood, we decided it was as good a place as any to spend the night.  We jumped in the van, closed the curtains and took advantage of our internet capabilities by calling family back home.  Soon thereafter we curled up in bed with the street light shining down on us.  It had been a couple of days since we entered the San Jose area, and we had not yet explored the city, so on June 29, 2007 we drove into town with the intent of sightseeing.  Before we started our tour though, we needed to pick up our camera from the repair shop.  After a few test shots to make sure it was functioning, we paid our bill and started walking to places of interest. First stop was the Museo de Jade; however when we realized that their entry fee was way out of our budget, we walked around the corner and stumbled upon a quaint art shop named Andromeda.  The employee was very knowledgeable about Costa Rican artists and as we perused the various paintings on the wall, he followed behind and explained a bit about each artist to us.  It was a very informative time and we promised we would try to stop in on the way home and visit him again.  Andromeda also hosts art exhibits, poetry readings and local music evenings and we were asked to attend one if time permitted.  We were handed a schedule of events and internet contact information before shuffling out the door.  The next stop on our walking tour was Casa Amarilla.  Our tour book indicated that visitors were not allowed inside the building, however its grand exterior was worth seeing.  Neither one of us was too impressed with the exterior, so without even so much as snapping a photograph, we continued on our way.  On route to the Parque Nacional, we walked through the small Espana Parque., which is nestled between towering skyscrapers on two sides, Casa Amarilla to the front and a major inner city highway to the back.  Surprisingly, the large trees and flowering shrubs lessened the noise of the bustling city that surrounded it.  Trees and walkways in the park were dedicated to famous Costa Ricans and Michael found a bust of Rafael Barroetay to pose with.  Fountains, cobble stone pathways and massive trees rounded out this charming park.  Walking a mere two blocks down the street we could see Parque Nacional.  Just as we neared the park, it started to rain.  We quickly ducked inside a government building to put on our rain gear.  We had learned our lesson about afternoon showers in San Jose and this time we were prepared.  Not wanting to get our newly repaired camera soaking wet, we quickly took a few photos of the William Walker statue in the middle of Parque Nacional.  The statue depicts William Walker being chased out of Costa Rica by rifle and axe wielding Ticans.  Just as we packed the camera up, the skies opened and the rain started to pour down on us.  People all around us started to run for cover and umbrellas peddlers started to pop up everywhere.  Unfazed, we politely declined all offers for umbrellas and continued our leisurely walk down Avenida Museo.  The street is paved entirely with bricks in various colours and designs and is lined with palm trees and old-fashioned light posts.  It was picturesque.  We were now in search of the Mercado Artesanias.  We are not sure if it was the driving rain that played with our sense of direction, or if we simply did not read our map correctly, but somehow we had managed to overshoot our destination.  Doubling back, we found the market and looking in the distance we felt a tad foolish when we realized that we had parked exactly half a block away from the market entrance.  Waiting out the rain, we walked up and down the one aisle market looking for that one special item to buy.  We found it in an old $5 bill.  The old bills used to be printed in colour with scenes of typical Costa Rican life.  The $5 bill has the most vibrant colours and is sought by many as a keepsake as the bill is no longer in circulation.  It would be our only purchase of the day.   Since we were so close to 'Nilla, it was the perfect time to stop and have lunch.  Within half and hour we had eaten, the rain had stopped and we were back on our walking tour.  The one and only item left on our checklist was the splendid Teatro Nacional. We had been eyeing the building for the past couple of days and were both anxious to see the inside.  Neither one of us felt disappointed as we entered the lobby  and were surrounded by marble pillars and white-washed stone sculptures.  The black and white tiled floors as well as the intricately carved doorways and elaborately decorated ceiling added to the air of nostalgia. We did not venture past the lobby as the entrance fee was once again a tad to steep, but we did walk around the small one room museum and art exhibit that were on display.  The Teatro was built in the 1800's and there was a series of black and white photographs that lined one wall showing the changes over time.  The main building is basically original and filled with splendid beauty.  Back outside, we walked around the garden area.  The pathways wove through rows of flower beds that each proudly displayed vibrant coloured plants.  Scattered sporadically throughout the grounds were statues of musicians and great composers.  Having seen all we wanted to see, we trudged back to the van just as the rain started to fall...yet again.   Once more in San Antonio de Belen, we found our nice parking spot on the street in front of the internet café.  We pulled out our laptop and were very disappointed to see that once again it would not connect to the internet.  Thinking we were merely missing one simple key stroke, we walked into the internet café in hopes that the technician would be working.  He was not, however the guy that was working called the technician from his cell phone and let us talk.  Unfortunately, the tech was busy and unable to come to our rescue.  He was kind enough to offer his services at 5:00pm the following day, however that did not work for us.  At 1:45pm tomorrow we needed to be at the airport to pick up our dear friend Michelle as she was coming to Costa Rica on a four week medical study program.  So, we sadly thanked the technician for all of his help and resorted to using a terminal to work on our travelblog site.  As night approached we paid our tab and headed out to the van.  It was an early night for us as we once again fell asleep underneath the security of the streetlight outside the internet café.Click the following link to see more photos:  http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLandingSignin.jsp?Uc=16xvaj2z.5b9u9qa7&Uy=-uf02fj&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=0
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1182964740/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1182964740/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1182964740/tpod.html Mon, 30 Jul 2007 15:00:01 -0400 Adventure of a lifetime!

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

San Antonio De Belen, Costa Rica

A late night and early morning found us both exhausted and forcing ourselves to get out of bed on June 27, 2007.  As Geraldine packed up our bed and sleeping gear, Michael walked down to 'Sector B Hatchery' to see if there were any turtle hatchlings.  Michael returned from the hatchery with the news that no Leatherback turtles came in the night before and only two hatchlings had emerged from their shells.  It was a slow night to say the least.  We were a little more content in knowing that we did not miss any of the action along the beach the night before.  With bellies full of breakfast, we fired 'Nilla up and set sail out of Gandoca.  The grooved, potholed and puddle filled dirt road was slower going out than it was coming in. As we inched our way around the pits and rocks, we encountered a cow not 500 metres from where we started.  This cow was intimidating with his all black body and solid white face.  The cow was standing in the middle of the road and directly in our path.  We edged our way right up to the cow thinking that it would move out of the way when faced with the size and sound of 'Nilla, however we were drastically wrong.  The cow simply stood there and stared at us.  Uncertain of our next step, we decided to take some pictures to pass the time.  The cow was very cooperative and photogenic as well.  Tired of taking photos of the same animal and both anxious to get going, we took turns making moo sounds at the cow, hissed and even talked peacefully to the large animal asking it to move along.  Nothing worked.  Finally, Geraldine had a great idea and with baseball bat in had she used it as a pointing stick to show the cow where to go.  Voila!  The cow followed the direction of the bat and walked calmly off the road.  Hitting the gas we were back in motion.  We took time to snap pictures of the scenery and the rickety bridges that we crossed along the drive out of Gandoca. It was early in the morning and there was not much vehicle traffic nor people milling around, so the drive was quiet and serene.  We reached the main road, CA Highway 36, and both sighed with relief to be back on solid and somewhat level asphalt.  The highway tracked back through the banana plantations and small villages along the way. At one point, we passed a rather untidy looking man.  His hair was in disarray and his clothes tattered and torn, however he wore a grin from ear to ear and we both reasoned that it may be because he was proudly carrying a large live chicken under his arm.  The grin may also have been due to him being all hopped up on something as his eyes shone like glass and he appeared to be gazing into nothingness while talking to himself.  We waved at him.  The highway then heads slightly up hill from the coast areas near Gandoca into the tropical forest.  At an elevated stretch in the road, we took time to capture the scenery of endless banana plants filling the valley while bordered by coast mountains and jungle.  The view was grand.  We reached the large town of Puerto Limon without getting lost, which for us was a small victory in itself. A short stop for gas and we were back on the road.  As there was no accident and traffic backlog to deal with, we cruised down the main drag in Puerto Limon in a tenth of the time it took us on the way in.  We spoke too soon and forgot to knock on wood, because just outside town, we were lined up in traffic again.  After forty-five minutes of crawling down the road, we reached the scene of the crime.  Basically, it was a fender bender accident, however handfuls of police showed up and traffic was reduced to one lane alternating traffic from each direction.  Thankfully, the line of cars leaving Puerto Limon was relatively short and we cringed when we saw the several kilometres of lined up vehicles on the other side of the accident waiting patiently for their turn to head into town.  The road from Puerto Limon then wandered through the countryside before reaching the National Park.  At the border of the park, the road immediately started to incline and the low hanging clouds overhead started to come within reach. The highway traffic was moving well as uphill was allotted two lanes of travel.  In some stretches of road it was two lanes in each direction, which is most rare in Central America save for only the PanAmerican, and it still has its single lane sections.  Drivers seemed to check their brains at the park gates as we witnessed a semi truck driver cut off an entire row of cars in the left lane to pass another tractor trailer.  The smaller cars could do nothing but yield to the maniacal operators in their massive commercial vehicles.  'Nilla was content to putt along with all the other patient folk in the right lane.  The odd time we would pull out to pass a ridiculously slow transport, but quickly resumed our spot in line in the slow lane.   As we climbed in altitude, the temperature drop was so noticeable, that we rolled up the windows as we had done only a handful of times before.  Water droplets formed on the windshield and front windows as the clouds now rolled past our faces.  What a magnificent feeling to be in the clouds.  Wisps of white encircled the van.  Looking out the passenger side we could see nothing but a wall of white.  It was creepy not having any clue what the scenery was like beyond the side of the road which hung closely on the edge of the mountain.  We would have rare opportunities to get our bearings, when the road hung dangerously close to the edge and we could  see down the mountainside and pick out trees and rivers in the valley below.  At the summit of the mountain pass we pulled off to the side of the road and took several moments to gaze out at the splendour of nature around us.  When we first climbed from the vehicle our skin was instantly covered with a thin layer of cool mist.  Reaching into nothing we attempted to grab strands of white that floated by.  On the losing end of the battle to grab clouds, we decided to cease our efforts and get back on the road.    We were a tad disappointed that the remainder of our drive was downhill as we knew soon the spectacular scenery would all be behind us.  Gearing down 'Nilla, we rolled down the windy decent in short order and ended up on a commercial ring road of San Jose.  Nearing the city we encountered yet another police check point.  The grumpy officer asked us routine questions before sending us on our way.  It was the first check point we encountered in Costa Rica where the police were not super friendly.   We just figure the officer was having a bad day.  As is normal with us, we pulled out our map only a few kilometres from town and then guessed our way into downtown San Jose.  It worked out rather amazing for us as we found the main square on our first try.  We even nabbed a pretty sweet parking spot next to the Teatro Nacional.  A few buses had parked in an area marked "No Parking" and we decided to follow suit.  There was really no room to tow 'Nilla away, so we were quite safe.  The first order of business in San Jose was to find a camera repair shop.  We walked to the tourist information office to pick up a walking map and were given a list of recommended city highlights.  A local department store aided us in our quest to find a camera repair shop and things were shaping up nicely in San Jose.  Unfortunately, the weather was not so cooperative.  Just as we finished getting directions to the repair shop, the skies opened and unleashed a wicked rain storm on us.  We ducked and weaved in and out storefronts and random building entrances to get shelter from the rain.  Only a few seconds without cover and our hair and shirts were soaked.  The rain drops were huge and coming down in droves.  It looked as if there was no end in sight, so we ducked into a local grocery store to pick up a few essentials.  Finished shopping, the rain appeared to have lessened and we decided to head back to 'Nilla to drop off our food and pick up the camera.  Just as we walked outside, the skies opened again and we scrambled, with grocery  bags in hand, to the nearest shelter which just happened to be a rather swanky looking hotel.  The doorman gave us a queer stare when we entered, but we kept walking like we belonged and found a tourist counter.  The tiny woman attending the counter could barely see over the desk in front of her, however she greeted us with a warm smile and showed us some local tours and gave us some maps of the San Jose and surrounding area.  This passed enough time for us to dry off a bit and make another run for the van.  At the entry to the hotel, we readied our keys and bolted for 'Nilla parked only thirty metres away.  It had taken us hours, but we were safely back inside our home and sheltered from the rain.  We waited out the storm by cooking lunch and digging out our raincoats.  Equipped with waterproof attire, we headed back out into San Jose just as the rain subsided.  We were again back to our first order of business, which was to find a camera repair shop.  We found the recommended shop and it was only a few blocks outside of the main square.  After a quick examination, the technician was confident that he would be able to fix the on/off button that had crapped out on us six weeks prior.  We handed over the camera and were given instructions to return in two days to pick it up.  Our laptop was also on the fritz and we spent most of the remainder of the afternoon trying to get a repair technician to decipher what was wrong.  All the shops we went to were baffled that the computer would not connect to the internet and all sent us packing without a hint toward a solution.  A bit deflated with our computer situation, we decided to try again the next day, so we hit the road in search of a camping spot for the evening.  On the walk back to the 'Nilla, we passed through the main square and we surprised to see a wealth of police randomly asking passer-by's to present identification and passports.  We breezed on through as all the cops were busy at the time we were there.  Ignoring the police we continued on our path to the van.  As we rounded the back end of  'Nilla, we were faced with a mass of Immigration Officers, police and television camera crews.  Not sure what to do, we simply froze.  Thankfully, the mass of suited met with firepower were focusing on one of the buses that was parked right in front of 'Nilla.  Apparently, there may have been a pile of illegal entrants to Costa Rica that jumped from their bus and scattered in the town square.  With all the people milling around this area, they were searching for 50 needles in one massive haystack.  Good luck guys!  The officers were polite and courteous to us as they actually stopped traffic to let us back up and drive away.  Thanks guys!  The drive out of central San Jose was no less entertaining.  It was late afternoon and nearing rush hour so the streets were filled with maniacal taxi and bus drivers and suicidal motorcycle riders that weave through cars and drive at high rates of speed between the two lanes of traffic.  Our favourite motorcycle operator was a guy that had his cell phone opened and jammed into his helmet.  He was chatting away to whomever as he raced from traffic light to traffic light.  How he was able to hear anything with all the traffic noise was certainly amazing.  We were content to slowly idle our way out of town in the slow lane.  We first passed by the major business district, then through the market district, along side of the bus terminal and into an area with stores catering to cowboys before we hit the highway.  Cowboy lane was most comical as there were hats, boots, chaps and saddles hanging from every store front.  Most of the store signs all said something about their goods being 'Texas Approved'.  We giggled.  We had read about an actual to goodness RV Park located in a suburb of San Jose called San Antonio de Belen and we had to check it out.  From the highway, we took the exit to San Antonio and had no real directions from there.  Thankfully, there were official government issue signs pointing us along the way.  The signs were solid blue with a line drawing of a camper with the word "Camping" stamped at the bottom and was totally similar to our signs back home.  Even with the signs, we still got a bit turned around in San Antonio.  One sign was missing to indicate that we needed to make a left turn, and we ended up in a residential district that was obviously not the right place to be.  Back tracking only a few blocks and getting on the proper road we found the Belen RV Park moments later.  The place was stellar.  Some forty and fifty foot units from California were permanently parked on site and their owners were all retirees that had somehow navigated these massive rigs down here many years before.  Each site had full hook-ups for water, electricity and sewer, however we were most anxious to try the hot water showers.  Ever the negotiators, we bargained for a lower rate as the price of $12 per night was a bit steep.  Seeing as how we intended to use up some water to clean 'Nilla and ourselves, we reached a compromise at $10 per night.  In North American standards, bargaining for a few buck is generally considered petty, however on a tight budget $2 is enough to buy lunch for both of us.   It was near dusk and after grabbing a quick snack, we headed down the road to the actual town of San Antonio de Belen.  It was quite dark in the suburbs, however the city glow could still been seen in the far distance.  The moon was near full and stringy clouds floated in its face to set the scene for some classic horror movie from the era of black and white flicks.  It was a frightening setting.  The moon lingered at the back of the church in main square to give everyone the same haunting view.  In order to keep in touch with the homeland, we hit the internet café in town for a few hours before walking back to the Belen RV Park.  On the way home, the cloud cover had rolled in so thick that the moon's glow had all but vanished.  Walking home quickly, we were both ready to fall asleep when we reached 'Nilla.Click on the following link to view more photos:  http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLandingSignin.jsp?Uc=16xvaj2z.3rcat4a7&Uy=w8z7rz&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=0
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1182883440/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1182883440/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1182883440/tpod.html Fri, 13 Jul 2007 15:58:51 -0400 Adventure of a lifetime!

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Gandoca, Costa Rica

On the morning of June 26, 2007 we had breakfast and then walked across the road to the café for a cup of coffee....or more to the point, the use of their bathrooms.  The café was considerably smaller than the ever touristy Maxi's restaurant across the road.  There were only a handful of tables underneath his awning and we contentedly sipped on our beverages knowing that we were supporting the runt of the litter as restaurants go.  Drinks consumed, we headed back to the van for breakfast.  As we neared 'Nilla, we noticed that the Belize sticker had fallen off of her rear window.  This could go no further!  A solution was necessary!  Thankfully, we had more stickers!  Rummaging through the van we produced several more stickers that we had accumulated along the way.  Geraldine got to work cleaning the rear window to allow for better adhesion, while Michael sifted through the stickers to choose the best ones.  Freshly applied flare, we stepped back to admire our handwork.  Slowly but surely, 'Nilla's rear window was filling up nicely.  Feeling a few raindrops, we decided it was time to duck inside for breakfast.  Alas!  The door was locked!  The keys were inside!  We had no spares hidden anywhere!  Looking at each other in a moment of doubt and disbelief, it soon sunk in that we had in fact locked ourselves out of the van.  Neither one of us recalled pushing the door lock down, so we did not know who was to blame.  Fortunately, we both agreed that it would be trivial and a waste of time trying figure that part out.  Instead, we got to work on a plan.  We had left the window on the second side door open, so the first thought was....let us see if we can fit Geraldine's scrawny arm in the open window, bend it in ways it was not meant to bent, and somehow hope she has enough strength in the one finger that reaches the lock to push it up and save us from this unpleasant situation.  The first attempt looked promising as her arm slid in, contorted itself, and one finger reached the door lock.  This is where the plan goes awry.  There was not enough strength in that index finger.  Back to the drawing board!  We know that Geraldine's arm fits in the window.  We know that her finger can reach the lock.  Therefore we need to extend her finger and allow her to use the remainder of her hand as leverage.  Look for a stick!  After briefly scouring the beach, Michael triumphantly appeared with the perfect stick.  It had a short nub at the end which could be used as a hook around the lock and would therefore be stronger than a finger.  In went the stick through the window, followed by Geraldine's arm.  With Michael calmly guiding her with words, Geraldine hooked the nub around the lock, pulled tightly and lifted up.  Pop!  What a glorious sound!  The door was now unlocked!  We quickly swung the door open to prove that all was not an illusion.  Before hopping in the van to get cover from the now steady rain drops that were falling on us, we gave each other a big hug.  Congratulations were definitely in order for the amount of composure and clear thinking we both possessed during our first, and hopefully last, lock out.  Having worked up quite an appetite, we consumed our breakfast at a rapid rate and then simply sat back to enjoy the inside of our van.  The rain was now steadily falling so we made ourselves comfortable, worked on our journal and did a little mid-day cleaning.  The rain let up right after lunch and we jumped at the opportunity to once again go outside.  Earlier in the day we had spotted a sign at Maxi's that stated they had public showers for the low, low price of ¢200 (approximately $0.30).  It had been several days since our last indoor shower, so we were both excited for a complete fresh water washing.  The shower did not disappoint and we both emerged smelling a million dollars richer than when we had entered.  The town of Manzanillo is situated within the Gandoca-Manzanillo Wildlife Refuge and is home to some of the best snorkelling and most beautiful beaches on the Caribbean.  It also boasts a 5.5 kilometre hiking trail through a rain forest to Punta Mona on the other side.  It was this hiking trail that intrigued us.  Unfortunately, as we enquired around town, we informed that with all of the heavy rain in the past week, the trail would be extremely muddy and at points no doubt unrecognizable.  Such is the luck when travelling during the rainy season, so we hopped back into 'Nilla and decided instead that the three of us would drive to Gandoca on the other side.  The landscape on the drive was filled with banana plantations nestled within the valleys of jungle covered mountains while the roads, as usual, wound around, down and up the sides of the densely vegetated hills.  As we drove, we noticed several other tourists pulled off the road to take snapshots of the unending fields of banana plants.  It was definitely a sight to see and we were happy not to have been the only ones that noticed the beauty of the area.  The most impressive sight we saw came later though, as we neared the Wildlife Refuge.  The final 10 kilometre stretch to the town of Gandoca was along a very poor and narrow dirt road filled with massive potholes that snaked through the middle of a Dole banana farm.  As we bounced our way down the track, we spotted a gentleman running amongst the banana plants to our left.  Initially, we thought that perhaps it was quitting time and he was in a rush to get home, but then we noticed that as he ran, many bundles of bananas followed him.  The bundles were attached to a wire conveyor belt hanging roughly five feet off the ground.  From the end of the line of bananas, a band had been wrapped around the waist of the gentleman to allow him to pull the bananas behind him as he ran.  This was too curious a situation to let pass by without snapping a photograph.  Michael brought 'Nilla to a stop so Geraldine could jump out and quickly run into the banana field to ask the man's permission for a photo.  The gentleman was kind and quickly agreed.  The photo was taken in short order as the man was still on the clock and barely slowed his pace after giving his consent.  We pressed on down the road and commented on how that would most likely be the most interesting thing to happen to us today.  No sooner had these words been spoken, we rounded the corner and once again brought 'Nilla to a halt.  Crossing the road directly in front of us was another conveyor belt.  Again, the contraption only hangs roughly five feet off the ground, so there was no way we were going to get 'Nilla underneath.  The road continued on the other side, so we knew there had to be a way to move the conveyor belt out of our way.  We both jumped out and tried our best to lift the entirely metal railing up in the air.  It was not budging.  We tried again, to no avail.  Standing around and scratching our heads, we contemplated on how to continue.  It was then that we spotted a passenger van headed in our direction.  The van was nearly as tall as 'Nilla so we knew it would also not be able to pass underneath the conveyor.  We simply stepped back, let the van come to a stop at the metal rail and watched, dumbfounded, as the driver swung the entire railing off to the side.  So that was the trick...to the side, not up in the air.  Good to know for the drive back out.  After the conveyor belt, the road got decidedly worse and we were forced to cross three rather sketchy looking bridges.  It was not so much the construction of the bridges that worried us, it was more the width of them.  Michael had to do some straight driving in order to keep all four tires on the bridge.  Thankfully, each bridge was no more than forty feet long.  Since it had been raining on this side of the Wildlife Refuge as well, the many potholes were all filled with water and Michael enjoyed driving through each puddle to watch the water splash in the air.  During one such puddle splashing, a little street dog happened to be too close to the road and got drenched as we drove by.  We also passed several small cabinas along the way and could not help but be amazed at how many tourists were here during the rainy season.  As usual, we drove directly by all of the paid lodging options and parked on the beach at the end of the road.  Immediately after alighting from our vehicle, we met Carolina.  Originally from Costa Rica, Carolina now lives in Toronto however returns to home often to work with the ANAI Volunteer and Research Centre.  ANAI is a turtle conservation program that works alongside the community to research and build awareness about the sea turtles that land on the beaches of Gandoca every year.  They have taught many ex-poachers that more money can be made by being a guide to tourists than can be made from selling turtle eggs.  ANAI also educates the people of the community how to make souvenirs and crafts out of other natural objects rather than using the shell of a turtle.  Every year many volunteers head down to Gandoca to do their part in conserving the turtle species, so the local cabinas and restaurants also profit from ANAI's presence in their community.  The best part of the program that we heard, was that ANAI puts a percentage of their profits directly back into the community.  We were impressed and enquired with Carolina if she could hook us up with a tour guide.  It was nearing the end of the Leatherback mating season and we were both curious to see one of these large creatures first hand.  A guide was arranged to show up at 7:00 pm in order to discuss a time and fee for our tour.  During our wait, we strolled along the beach and happened upon an area called "Sector B Hatchery".  On occasion, a mother turtle will dig her nest too close to the waters edge, so the volunteers will carefully dig up each and every egg and relocate it further up the beach.  This way there is no risk of the eggs being washed out to sea prior to hatching.  Every nest is tagged and monitored so that when the eggs start hatching, the baby turtles can be released closer to the water to avoid the possibility of them wandering the other way into the trees or falling prey to birds or land crabs.  We had hoped to see a baby turtle, but it was not meant to be.  So we strolled back to the van and on the way ran into two volunteers who educated us on the nesting seasons of sea turtles.  Leatherbacks nest from April to May, Green Turtles lay July through October and Hawksbills sporadically from March to October.  Being at the tail end of the Leatherback season, we knew there was only a slim chance that we would see one, but we could not leave the area without at least trying.  Leatherbacks are on average 1.6 metres long and can grow as big as 2 metres.  We were told that if we happened to spot one that night, we would be allowed to touch it, however no flash cameras were permitted and no flashlights with the exception of the infrared flashlights carried by all the guides.  More excited than ever, we waited until our guide, and Gilbert showed up at 7:00 pm.  Gilbert told us what his fee would be for a four hours walk along the beach, and we were sad to say that it was out of our budget range.  Not wanting to lose a sale, Gilbert offered to take us out for a two hour tour at half the price.  It was still a tad more than what we had hoped to pay, but agreed to go through with this once in a lifetime opportunity.  The turtles can come to shore anytime between 7:00 pm and 1:00 am, however Gilbert's two hour tour would start at 9:00 pm.  We were dressed and ready when the punctual Gilbert returned.  Aside from being further educated, our two hour walk up and down the beach did nothing more than tire us out completely.  No Leatherbacks were coming to shore today.  We spent most of our time watching out that the tide did not wash up and over our feet.  There were a few instances that we actually had to jump into the forest on top of fallen logs to avoid soaking our shoes.  It was explained to us that part of the reason for this was how stormy the weather was as well as how unruly the waters were being that night.  Both a little disappointed, we returned to the van at 11:15 pm and promptly fell asleep.  We had stayed up well past our bedtime and all of the fresh air had made us all the more drowsy.Check out the photo album:  http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLandingSignin.jsp?Uc=16xvaj2z.a1nktxkv&Uy=rg2kno&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=0
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1182710400/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1182710400/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1182710400/tpod.html Fri, 13 Jul 2007 15:57:42 -0400 Adventure of a lifetime!

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Manzanillo, Costa Rica

The smell of clean sheets was still tickling our noses when we awoke on June 24, 2007.  Figuring he was going to need energy food, Michael made us a hearty breakfast of potatoes, eggs and ham.  We quickly did our dishes, got dressed and headed out the door for our 8:30 am start to surfing lessons.  Renny, the instructor, was waiting for us and as we approached, he asked if Geraldine was also going to be taking lessons.  Oh no, was the reply.  Geraldine does not even know how to swim and is definitely not comfortable going out past waste deep water in an ocean swelling with waves.  So, with only one surf board in hand, we headed toward Playa Negra.  Playa Negra is aptly named for the black sand beach that lines the Caribbean Sea.  It was 9:00 am by the time we had walked to the beach, waxed the board and gotten a basic safety lesson before Michael and Renny headed into the water.  It was not long after the two men entered the water, that the rain started to come down.  Putting her rain jacket on, Geraldine thought she would be able to stay on the beach and outlast the rain; however within minutes it became a torrential downpour.  She quickly grabbed her beach bag and ran to the covered patio of the Reggae Bar across the street.  Thankfully, the rain subsided half an hour later and Geraldine was able to reoccupy her spot on the beach.  It was definitely not going to be a sun tanning day, however it was still nice to be closer to the action.  The surf lessen began with Michael and Renny standing on the beach and staring out into the large watery abyss.  Renny pointed left and right and explained the movement of the current and of utmost concern was the rip tide that formed around a large sandbar in the ocean.  The discussion led into basic water safety and that above all keeping calm in any situation was essential.  Michael was so geared up to get in the water that he basically nodded his head continually until Renny was done speaking.  Finally, the words he wanted to hear.... "Let's just jump in the water and see what happens".   Yee-haw...surfs up dudes!   The water was warm and Michael and Renny walked out side by side into the ocean still pointing far into the distance and chatting about the formation of waves and the like.  We started on the right side of the sandbar and the current was noticeably moving of from left to right.  There was not a strong undertow, but the water sure let its presence and power be known.  Armed with the verbal knowledge of how to get up, ride the wave and balance, Michael was finally set to put theory into practice.  Renny's only advice was to hop on the board and ride it straight to shore.  No problem.   Paddling furiously until the wave had a hold on board,  Michael then swiftly hopped up to his feet and did as he was told....rode the board all the way to shore.  Hang Ten!  This surfing gig is easy.   High stepping his way back out to Renny with the board, Michael was most satisfied with his first wave performance.  Renny was pleased as well, however as all good instructors do, he found some constructive criticism to lay down.  Technique and proper form were certainly lacking and foot position on the board needed help as well.   Michael spent nearly an hour riding waves and then running back out to Renny for more instruction and encouragement.  We had moved around the sandbar a few times to get better placement and better waves as the water continually changed.  The rain seemed to flatten out the waves on the right side of the sand bar, but not the left.  This really was just a coincidence, as it defies any known laws of nature.  Tiring out, Michael again rode to shore for a water break and to sit down for a while.  Renny joined him.  We sat around for 15 minutes or so chatting about life in Costa Rica and Renny's experiences as a surfer growing up in Long Island, New York.  There was no need to use wet suits and booties down here.  Armed with shorts, any knucklehead can try out surfing...even Michael.   After the mid-lesson chill time was over, the guys were back in the water again.  They headed right up the middle of the sandbar to where the waves were bigger and stronger.  The current was moving from side to side and had a significant pull back out to sea and we had barely walked twenty metres out.  The water level was now around our necks versus the waist deep water enjoyed during the first part of the lesson.  It was a bit intimidating to be in the mix of waves crashing overhead and the feeling of being jostled to and fro by the power of the water.  Relax.  Remain calm.  Michael slowly became accustomed to the force of the water and started to jump back on the board.  It was much harder to get started as the waves were moving with twice the might and twice the speed.  It took a few attempts to get up on the board, but Surfer Mike was up for the challenge.  The second hour of lessons went by much faster as Michael was working on watching the surf, picking and catching his own waves.  It was difficult to pick the waves as seeing with the blinding glare of sun behind the hazy clouds and the sting of salt water in the eyes was a challenge.  Renny was still searching in the white water for his hat that was ripped from his head early in the lesson.  Sorry Renny...no hat for you.  Michael was up and down on that board more often in the second lesson, mainly because he did not ride very far before falling off or having the wave die underfoot.  He did manage a few decent rides, enough for Geraldine to snap a few pictures anyway.  With Michael nearing exhaustion from two hours of non-stop action, Renny sent him to shore to take a breather.    As the sun started to break through the clouds and heat up the day, several families arrive at Playa Negra to splash around in the water.  One family consisted of mother, father and two sons.  The boys waxed up a surf board and began taking turns skimming along the waves on their bellies.  At one point they approached Renny, and as Michael was riding a wave to the beach, Renny gave the two brothers a quick lesson on getting up onto the surf board.  We both assumed that these boys were going to be next on the schedule.  An exhausted Michael emerged from the water one last time as his lesson was now over.  We waited patiently on the beach for Renny to come in; however he seemed to be occupied with the two brothers.  Not much later, the younger brother floated in to shore on the surf board.  He was teary eyed and cried on his mothers shoulder as his father grabbed the surf board and entered the water.  We thought he was simply upset at having lost his turn on the surf board and continued waiting for Renny.  Michael was chasing a dog on the beach and Geraldine was snapping photos of the landscape when an anxious woman appeared on the beach.  She stood and pointed toward Renny and his companions, all the while mumbling incomprehensible words to herself.  We thought this was a tad odd, but as we looked out into the ocean, we realized that the person we had been waiting for on shore was actually in trouble in the water.  By the time we figured out what was happening, the three of them were already nearing the beach.  We felt rather foolish when Renny announced that he had seen the dog chasing on the beach and thought to himself "What is he doing?  Does he not know we're in trouble out here?"  Thankfully, Renny a trainer lifeguard of many years, had been able to keep both father and son calm as the rip tide pulled them further out into the ocean.  Eventually they escaped the danger zone and the waves push them towards the shore.  Unfortunately, the most exciting part of Michael's surf lesson happened after the lesson was over.  Having worked up an appetite, we walked the short 10 minutes back to 'Nilla for sandwiches.  It was then that we spotted an outdoor shower.  Not sure how we had missed this before, we grabbed some soap and took turns lathering up.  It was not only nice to be able to wash off the salt water, but also glorious to feel clean again.  The morning activities had sapped most of Michael's energy, so we decided to spend the remainder of the day updating our website and strolling around Cahuita.  Dinnertime came before we knew it night fall arrived shortly thereafter.  It had been an adventurous day and sleep came easily.  On June 25, 2007 we decided to leave Cahuita and drive further down the Caribbean coast.  We took our time having breakfast, doing the dishes and using the outdoor shower one last time.  Before long we were on the road again.  Our first stop was at Playa Grande just outside Puerto Viejo.  There was an old rusted boat, with a tree growing on top, sitting on shore as if waiting for its crew to jump aboard.  What an odd sight to see.  The city of Puerto Viejo is considerably more developed than Cahuita and as we rumbled down the main street we soaked up as much of the bustling city as we could.  We had no intention of spending the night there and pressed on.  We encountered many bridges and road passages that were only built one car wide, so the drive was slow going.  Only one lane of traffic will have a yield sign, so it is up to that direction of traffic to yield to the oncoming vehicles.  It was a very beautiful stretch of road to drive slowly through as the road was lined on one side with dense jungle and the other with tropical forest.  In and amongst the tropical plants and trees where many hotels.  It was nice to see that, for the most part, the hotels tried to tuck themselves into the jungle in an effort to camouflage them.  Of course there is always that one hotel that needs to be front and center and is apparently oblivious as to how unattractive they make their surroundings look.  Oh well, we can not all be perfect.  The scenery helped the drive pass by quickly and we arrived in Manzanillo in short order.  By now the dark clouds that had lingered above us during the drive, had decided no longer to be quiet as they opened up and poured rain down on us.  We carefully pulled 'Nilla onto the beach and got out.  Manzanillo is a very small town with only one restaurant, one bar and one café.  It is marvellously quaint.  Our tour of the town lasted a mere five minutes and we quickly returned to the comforts of 'Nilla to escape the rain.  The soothing sound of raindrops on fibreglass filled the van as we sat quietly working on our journal for our travel blog.  We only left the van once to use the facilities at Maxi's Bar before we retired for the night.More photos for your viewing pleasure... http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLandingSignin.jsp?Uc=16xvaj2z.2e5gzc1r&Uy=6gzao4&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=0&UV=470010618481_492364134207
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1182531060/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1182531060/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1182531060/tpod.html Mon, 09 Jul 2007 14:23:52 -0400 Adventure of a lifetime!

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Cahuita, Costa Rica

We awoke to a chilly morning on June 22, 2007. Since we were at a higher altitude, it had cooled off considerably during the night. It was refreshing not to wake up sweating. Unfortunately, parking on the street does not allow us regular use of bathrooms, so we quickly ate breakfast and headed out in search of facilities. The logical stop was the German Bakery. Our senses went into overload as we walked though the door. The smells were wonderful and we walked around the small shop gleefully admiring the assortment of sausages, cheese, buns, tarts and muffins that were for sale. Unfortunately, our pocket book was not felling the good vibe as the prices were out of this world. As we were browsing, the owner, Thomas, came out to greet us. He was most friendly and we chatted briefly about our trip, his many trips and the sights to see around Lago Arenal. Thomas had to get back to work, but before running off, he was kind enough to offer us coffee, wireless internet and the use of his washing machine if we so desired. This was a most generous offer and we could tell that as a seasoned traveler himself, he was keen to help other travelers in any way he could. We graciously declined his big-hearted offer and hit the road. Before heading out of the small town, we once again stopped in at Lago Arenal in order to snap a few photographs. We had hoped for a sunny day with blue skies and were not disappointed. The brilliant blue sky reflected off the water to create an overall gorgeous scene. There were still clouds in the sky, however they chose to lay low and play with the rolling hills that surround the lake. Thankfully, we arrived early to the lake as the clouds were not content to stay out of the way and before long, they had covered nearly the entire sky. There was only one small strip of the blue sky left by the time we drove away from the lake. The drive around Lago Arenal was windy and slow going. Of course we did not speed up the process by stopping for photo opportunities. Along the highway, we spotted a single man sitting under a small white tent on the side of the road.  Intrigued, we stopped to chat and learned that he was a tour guide. There were several canopy tours, a butterfly farm, National Park, gondola rides and rafting offered in the area and we thought we would enquire about pricing. Needless to say, it remained strictly an inquiry as the prices were so exorbitant that we did not even take time to consult each other before thanking the guide for his time. There was a tour that for a fleeting moment Geraldine considered going on. It was for a Serpentarium tour (Snake tour) and the thought of facing her greatest fear head on was tempting, but she kept the thought to herself until they had driven at least ten kilometres down the road. The last thing she wanted to do was let her feelings be known to Michael and have him immediately buy the tickets and make her go through the insane process of having a boa constrictor wrapped around her neck. No thank you. As we left the information booth and headed toward 'Nilla, we were greeted by a friendly couple on bicycles. Rachelle and her husband were originally from Switzerland and were doing the same trip we are doing. The only difference being that they were riding bicycles; we thought we were being adventurous. They had started in Alaska and were on month fourteen of their trip. They were expecting to finish in another ten months. It was hard to imagine that we covered more ground and had reached the same spot in only six months. We briefly exchanged travel stories before wishing each other luck and heading our separate ways. We arrived in La Fortuna and stopped just long enough to get some cash, fill up the gas tank and make sandwiches for lunch. We had been warned about the sky high prices in La Fortuna and were not interested in experiencing them first hand. The major attraction in La Fortuna is the active Volcan Arenal. Although hiking the area is not permitted, tours are taken out on a daily basis to watch the red hot lava flow down the side of the volcano. We had a quick look at the cloudy sky above us and decided that visibility would undoubtedly be poor, so we passed on staying in La Fortuna any longer. Back on the highway, we decided to head for the town of Cahuita on the Caribbean coast. In order to get to the coast, we had to travel across multiple roads that a resembled a spider web on the map. We both took a deep breath and put pedal to the metal. We just prayed that there would be a few road signs along the way to keep us on track. Surprisingly, we found our way without much hassle. We only turned around three times, which is about par for the course on any driving day. When we reached the main road, Costa Rica Highway 32, we were set on heading to the Caribbean Coast to the port city of Puerto Limon. After hitting the roadside vegetable stands to pick up a few essentials, we passed a massive concrete Brahma bull and Michael could not resist jumping from the van and starting climbing on it. Wow, the child inside him is alive and kicking. After demanding a few pictures with his new friend, Michael finally agreed to climb down and get back to driving. The highway to Puerto Limon was well paved and extremely busy. There were shipping yards filled with crates along both sides of the motorway and transport trucks outnumbered cars considerably on this stretch of road. We fell in line with all the other cars as passing on this windy two lane road is just asking for trouble. When we finally reached Puerto Limon, traffic came to a grinding halt. We inched our way down the main street and figured the slowdown was due to the tangled mess of transport trucks and buses that continually changed lanes jockeying for position. After nearly forty minutes of barely moving we reached our turn off toward Cahuita and it was here we discovered that the entire traffic backlog was due to minor car accident. In Central America, cars are not moved in any way following an accident until the police arrive. So, backed up traffic for miles in four directions was the result of following the rules.  We fuelled up at Texaco in Puerto Limon and cleaned off 'Nilla with the hose provided. It was nice to get some of the caked on mud and rain scum off the vehicle to get her shiny again. Back on the road, we got our first glimpse of the Caribbean Sea only five minutes outside Puerto Limon. The waved filled water rolled into the coast line steadily. A fine mist rose above the water and made it appear as is if it were raining from the ground up. The open air road quickly turned inland and we were behind the shelter of a tropical coastal forest. As the road followed the natural shape of the coastline, we got short sneak peaks of the changing beach and water scenery when we peered through the tall thin stalks of palm trees. There was little traffic and we cruised ever so slowly to take it all in.  By the time we rolled into Cahuita, the sun had started to set. Now it was time to find a camping area or essentially just a parking spot. We tried a few hotels; however the cheapest we could find was $5 without electricity and no use of bathrooms or showers. Making a complete loop of the small downtown core of Cahuita, we ended up back at the first hotel we had enquired at. Cabinas Palmer had agreed to let us use their parking lot, however did not have available bathrooms as their rooms were all fully rented. Thinking we could make due without facilities for one night, we rolled up to the man at the front door and agreed to take his parking spot. Before pulling 'Nilla in, we quickly asked if there was a chance we could connect to the hotel's electricity. We were thrilled when the answer was yes and even more thrilled when he told us that there would not be a charge for us to stay there. This was completely unheard of and we were floored by this kindness. We parked 'Nilla as close to the building as possible and got to work finding an electrical outlet. Once that was located, we inserted our circuit tester. Neither one of us knew what to do when the red light lit up and told us that the hot and neutral were reversed in this outlet. After thinking about it for a while, we decided to plug in anyway. The proprietor was right on track with us and was convinced that it would all be fine. As Michael was in the process of plugging us into the outlet, the owner yelled out "NO!" Geraldine got wide-eyed and Michael immediately yanked the plug back out. We both looked at the man standing between us and were not too pleased to see that he was laughing uncontrollably at his great little prank. We did not hold this joke against him as it was rather funny and he did get us pretty good. Instantly, we all started laughing. After calming ourselves down a little, Michael continued to plug in the van and we were all happy to see that there was no explosion or fire as a result. Seeing as we were not being charged to stay at Cabinas Palmer, we thought we would support his business and use his internet café for an hour before retiring for the night. It was wonderful to have electricity as the van was hot and muggy and our Fantastic Fan provided us with much needed reprieve from the heat of the day. The hunt for bathrooms began early on the morning of June 23, 2007. Luckily, it ended p being a very short hunt as the coffee shop directly across the road from Cabinas Palmer was open for business. We headed over and purchased a cup of coffee and glass of juice. For roughly $1, we each had a beverage and were able to use the facilities. Not a bad deal. It was still early in the morning and not many shops were open yet, so we headed to the internet café and worked on replying to email. Once that was completed, we started our quest to find a laundry service that charged less than the $14 a load that was standard in La Fortuna and other areas around Lago Arenal. As luck would have it, we found a do-it-yourself service. Unfortunately, the shop was not open. A passer by informed us that the owner had gone to the weekly Reggae Party the night prior and was hung-over this morning. We were told to try back later in the afternoon. This would be a perfect time to have lunch and relax a while.  Having waited several hours, we wandered back to the laundry facility with dirty clothes in hand. The shop was now open and extremely busy. There were three computers on one wall that were all occupied by teenagers playing video games. There was a definite smell of laundry detergent in the air. We introduced ourselves to the French Canadian owner, Sebastian, and as we looked around, we saw that all three washing machines were in use. To boot, each machine was flanked by several baskets of laundry waiting its turn in the wash cycle. Obviously, Sebastian was a tad behind due to his unproductive morning and he asked that we return later in the day. Not wanting to drag our dirty laundry away, we simply piled it on the floor and departed from the laundry shop one more time. Once again needing to occupy ourselves, we decided to stroll around Cahuita. The town is a major tourist destination and there were travelers here from everywhere. Cahuita is super laid back and locals and tourist alike leisurely strolled down the hard pack dirt streets. The little restaurants and coffee shops called 'Sodas' all seem to eek out a living even though they are plentiful in this small village. The bar scene is mellow on most days, however Saturday nights the speakers pump Reggae tunes loud enough to be heard in neighbouring villages, yet still the vibe remains friendly and sociable. Lining the village are numerous beautiful white and black sand beaches, however the water can be turbulent at the best of times and the rip tides are unforgiving. Some high-end gourmet restaurants have popped up along the main drag, however mainly serve to appease the appetites of the tourists staying at the four star hotel in town. The prices were high enough to keep us on the outside with the locals.  We happened across a dilapidated building with a weathered painted exterior for a tourist information man named Mister Big J. We simply figured his business dried up over the years, however as we walked further, we ran into the new and improved site for Mister Big J. Big J was a large man with a jovial and pleasant demeanour. The services he offered included hiking guides of Parque Nacional Cahuita, snorkelling and horseback riding along the beach and into the tropical forest. The prices were reasonable, however we learned that hiking with a guide was not mandatory and we opted to check it out on our own if the rain would let up. Still further along on our walking tour, we happened upon a sign indicating surf lessons. Michael was still keen on trying his hand at this water sport, so we ducked in and enquired about pricing. The instructor seemed very knowledgeable and the price was right, so we signed Michael up for his first surf lesson. Michael arranged to meet Renny first thing in the morning to catch some crazy waves. Hang Loose.  Before going back to the laundry shop, we stopped off at 'Nilla and had some dinner. We arrived at the laundry facilities around 7:00 pm and were pleased to see that the washing machines were all empty. We filled the three machines and sat back. The washing cycle took thirty five minutes each, however due to the humidity in the air; the drying process took much longer. It was not until 10:00 pm that we had washed, dried and folded all of our laundry. Feeling rather drained, we headed home and dozed off to the wonderful smell of fabric softener.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1182477120/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1182477120/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1182477120/tpod.html Thu, 28 Jun 2007 19:11:32 -0400 Adventure of a lifetime!

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Arenal, Costa Rica

Unfortunately for Geraldine, she had yet another restless night of sleep.  She was awoken at 2:00 am by a couple of partiers on their way home from the bar.  Their voices were raised and she could clearly make out their drunken words.  Since she was now awake, she listened in amusement as they started reading the bumper stickers on 'Nilla's rear window.  It was all she could do to keep from laughing out loud when one of them commented "They must really love Alberta Beef".  After her entertainment continued on down the road, Geraldine was left to toss and turn listening to the soothing sounds of Michael's breath as he slept peacefully next to her.When Michael finally awoke, we ate breakfast and got ready to hit the internet café again.  All we needed was an hour of internet service to at last post our wedding photos.  Being the first ones in the café, we had to wait for the computers to boot up and it was then that we were told the connection was still down from the day before.   Alas, our family and friends were going to have to wait just a little longer as we were now on our way to Costa Rica.We arrived at the border at 8:15 am and were greeted by throngs of semi trucks; instantly we were grateful to be arriving so early in the day.  If our guide book was correct, we could expect to be in several long line-ups before the day was out.  Spotting an office with an Aduana placard, we pulled 'Nilla into a parking spot.  'Nilla's wheels had not even come to a complete stop before we were surrounded on both sides by prospective guides.  They were all vying for a chance to be our personal border crossing assistants.  Basically, their job is to take you to the appropriate windows and make sure you have all the necessary documents for a hassle-free border crossing.  We are not sure if they have a set price or not, but we are under the assumption that they work strictly for tips.  To date we have not used a guide as we quite enjoy going through the process on our own.  We find it helps us know what is going on and what exactly we are or are not paying for.  Plus, we have been rather successful while winging it and have no desire to mess with that.  So, as usual, we shooed away all of the guides and walked toward the Aduana office.  Of course the guides knew this was the wrong office and immediately tried to solicit us again, however we once again refused their assistance.  We walked up to an official looking booth in the middle of the road and asked the guard if that was where we needed to be driving through.  He told us it was, so we fired 'Nilla up and drove toward the man at the booth.  Once there, the guard asked for our paperwork.  Confused, we asked which paperwork he was referring to.  He advised us that we needed to pay a $1 USD exit fee at the office we had parked next to not two minutes prior.  We giggled aloud as we reversed 'Nilla into the same parking spot we had just pulled her out of.  The guides had all seen this little event go down and as soon as we alighted from the van, they were all over us yet again.  We continued to refuse their services as we pushed our way throw the crowd and toward the window that issues exit fee receipts.Walking away, Michael overhead a guide explain to another driving traveler that photocopies of our Drivers License, Passports and Vehicle Registration would be required.  Pretending like we knew what we were doing, we entered a small room that housed the photocopier.  Thankfully, the line was short.   The man in front of us was driving from Texas down to Costa Rica with his family.  Mr. Texas had hired a border guide and we took the opportunity to confirm the next few steps in the process.  After copying our documents, we were greeted by a cheerful man offering to exchange our money from Nicaraguan Cordovas to Costa Rican Colones.  Generally, a gaggle of money changers will surround us in a similar way to the border guides, however at this crossing we only had to deal with a pleasant older fellow.  We confirmed the various exchange rates and getting a reasonable deal, we changed our currency.  Hopping back into 'Nilla, we drove to the border booth for a second time.  Handing over our exit receipts, we moved forward and were greeted by an official Aduana Agent.  We received a small 7cm by 7cm slip of paper with some scribbles and stamps on it and were told to take 'Nilla down the road for a formal police inspection.  We thought it funny that we did not get a police inspection to enter Nicaragua, however needed one to exit.  Driving up to the main Customs and Migracion Building, we were again surrounded by a new multitude of guides all yammering on at us with various directions and advice.  We just continued to spit out our famous "No Gracias" response and push our way through yet another crowd.  Inside, we found a Tourist Information booth and the young man behind the counter was most helpful in clarifying our next few steps.  Back outside, we went in search of a police officer to inspect our vehicle.  First we asked an official looking man in uniform, however he was a Customs Agent and pointed us onward to a small office that was nearly filled up with one massive table and had a single police officer sitting at the far end.  Reviewing our paperwork, the officer noted that we had not yet had our vehicle inspected.  Funny thing, that is what we had just asked him to do.  Pointing out the window to a concrete archway with faded and peeling paint way in the distance, we were told to drive our vehicle over there for inspection.  Alright!  We were now finally getting somewhere.  Firing up 'Nilla, we had a young kid hanging outside the van continually telling us where to go.  Since we already knew that information, we politely refused his services.  The kid would just not take the hint and started running in front of the van was we drove waving us along.  The entire time we could see our known destination and had no need for him to point out the obvious.  We sped up and passing the little guy, again telling him that his services were not needed.  Pulling into the inspection area, we were happily waiting in line behind Mr. Texas for a second time.  When Geraldine opened the door, she nearly hit the kid.  We had no idea he continued to follow us and since he was so small, he was hard to see from our elevated seats in the van.  With a final and definite "No Gracias", the young boy understood he was not needed and ran back to the Customs Building.  We surrendered our photocopies of personal and vehicle information to the police and an officer slowly sauntered over to 'Nilla.  He looked exhausted from climbing in and under vehicles all day.  We unlocked all the doors and stepped back to give him some space to look around.  The inspection was rather thorough, as he went through all the pockets around the engine console, which was a first on this trip.  The officer was also the first to notice the television inside van.  As he opened the numerous cupboard doors in the back, he really had no idea where to start searching.  The doors were closed as quickly as they were opened.  Near the end of the inspection, the officer asked Michael to step in and show him around.  We went through the refrigerator, freezer, drawers of pots and pan before finally getting to the pantry.  The officer was merely amused when we saw we had a liquor cabinet, but he moved on to check out the rest of our food.  He rubbed his tummy and smiled when he came across oatmeal and Michael smiled back.  The officer quickly opened our clothes lockers, but was none to interested in sifting through them.  The inspection was officially over.  Since we had handed in our paperwork here, we expected to receive an official receipt or completed inspection form, however we were simply told to tell the police officer back at Customs that the inspection was finished.  Who were we to argue. We drove back to makeshift Police Station and the officer signed the original slip of paper we had received at the border booth confirming our inspection was completed.  That seemed easy enough and we then headed inside to deal with Customs and Migracion.  As we have been known to do, we circled the entire building looking for the Migracion window.  Ending up exactly where we had started, our next decision was to enter the building.  Inside the building there was the now deserted tourist desk to the right and a large hallway to the left.  It appeared as if left was the way to go and we were not disappointed when we saw a row of glass windows for Migracion and Customs - Vehicle Permits.  Choosing the shortest line first, we waited for our turn at the Customs window.  It was mere minutes before we were called up to produce our passports.  After paying the $4 USD border fee, our passports were stamped and we were free to wait in the next line to hand in our vehicle papers.  This line too just a little longer as all those in front of us had at minimum three sheets each that needed to be dealt with.  Wondering if perhaps we had missed a crucial step along the way, we opted to take our chances and see what happened.  As it turned out, all we needed was the small 7cm by 7cm slip of paper as the agent simply added yet another stamp to the small form and took our Nicaraguan Driving Permit from us.  Two and a half hours later, we were ready to leave Nicaragua.'Nilla obviously had enough of all the staring, touching and prodding as she anxiously awaited our return.  She fired up and drove us toward the final leg of our adventure.  We immediately realized that our departure would not be as speedy as hoped.  In front of us on the main road was a long, long queue of semi truck and trailers.  We crawled into an available space and patiently waited our turn behind one of the only other regular vehicles in line.  We had been waiting roughly ten minutes and had proceeded roughly ten feet, when the passenger of the SUV in front of us got out and walked toward the booth.  Moments later he returned and directed the driver of the SUV to pull out and drive beside the line of semis directly up to the booth.  Well, well, well, it looked as if regular vehicles may get special treatment.  Not ones to look a gift horse in the mouth, we quickly manoeuvred 'Nilla out of her resting place and followed the SUV.  Whoops!  Perhaps not the smoothest move as the SUV then turned away from the line all together and parked in a parking lot.  Wondering once again if we had missed a vital step in the departure process we sat by ourselves in the middle of the road contemplating what to do next.  Thankfully the guard at the booth spotted us and waved us ahead.  'Nilla was feeling pretty darn proud of herself as she cruised past the line of massive trucks and budged her way into the front of the pack.  The officer at the gate asked for our paperwork.  We handed him the 7cm by 7cm slip of paper and crossed our fingers that he would not ask for more.  He did not and we crept forward.  As we waited our turn to reach the parking lot at the Costa Rican border buildings, a Police Officer approached the van and asked for our passports.  There was no booth in sight, so we wondered what this was all about.  The officer simply checked to see that our passports had been stamped and then walked back to the group of men he had been chatting with.  Apparently, not everyone in the world needs an office.The first thing we noticed as we approached the Costa Rican side of the border was a massive line easily four people wide that flanked two sides of the large Migracion building.  That was one line we were hoping to avoid.  Following the directions of a parking patrol, we pulled 'Nilla up to park.  The road was congested with truck and trailers and with 'Nilla's extended length, we wanted to pull her up as close to the building as possible.  Unfortunately, there was a woman with a cooler standing directly in our path.  All we needed was two more feet to be safely off the road, so we inched forward.  We stared in amazement as the woman refused to budge from her standing area.  Patiently, Geraldine got out of the van and asked the woman to move.  The woman responded by saying that we were not allowed to drive on the sidewalk.  Geraldine looked at 'Nilla's tires and pointed out to the lady that our front tires were easily still three feet away from the tiled path.  Having had enough of the stubborn woman, she motioned for Michael to move forward.  According to Geraldine's visual calculations, 'Nilla was high enough off the ground to clear the cooler that stood on the ground at her feet.  As 'Nilla inched forward, the woman finally got the picture, picked up her cooler and stepped back a couple of feet.  Phew!  Parking 'Nilla is generally a challenge, but this was downright difficult.The helpful parking patrol pointed us in the direction of the Aduana office.  It was a small one room shack directly across from Migracion.  Inside we found a single man sitting behind a lone desk.  Atop the desk were two ledger books and a small lamp.  We were curious to see what was going to happen in this modest room.  The man at the desk was cheerful and seeing as how he was there for one purpose only, he did not need to ask us how he could help.  He simply removed a piece of paper from the one and only drawer on the desk and told us to go into the Migracion building to purchase the obligatory vehicle insurance.  Okay Dokey!  Across the street we went and bypassed the throng of people waiting to get in.  We were pretty confident that none of them were there to purchase vehicle insurance so we did not feel bad about cutting in line.  Once inside, we were directed to the first doorway.  There was a minor queue to get in and we were at the front within five minutes.  The office was small, yet packed.  It housed one desk, one photocopier, two bookshelves and two employees.  The woman behind the desk worked on the paperwork, while the man at the photocopier worked the machine.  Vehicle insurance cost us C7,281 (Colones) or $15 USD and was good for 90 days.  Before the insurance was handed to us, the agent asked us for our passports.  She immediately noticed that they had not been stamped by Costa Rican Immigration.  We had bypassed a step and she refused to complete the transaction until we provided valid stamped passports.  So off we went to Migracion.  We chose not to think about the people that were waiting outside as we quickly ducked into the nearly empty room of tellers behind windows.  Within minutes we were back at the Insurance office with officially stamped passports.  Photocopies of the stamps were taken and we were advised to return to the Aduana office across the road.Back at the Aduana office, the agent took our paperwork and started to transfer document numbers into his two ledger books.  All of a sudden he stopped and stared out the window.  We opted not to interrupt him and soon he was back to looking at his ledger.  He did not continue to write our numbers down though.  Instead he gazed at the pages before staring back out the window again.  We both had a look at the ledger book in an attempt to quietly figure out what the problem was.  Michael and Geraldine both noticed at the same time that the agent had forgotten to write down the document numbers of the lady that had been in front of us.  Looking outside, we noticed that the woman, papers in hand, was still in the parking lot.  Simultaneously, we looked at each other with the same quizzical look.  If she was just outside his office, why did he not simply go outside and request to see her papers one more time?  When the woman got into her vehicle and drove off, we were both fearful that we were now in for a long wait until the agent could solve the dilemma of missing numbers.  Thankfully, this was not the case.  As soon as the woman drove off, our agent stood up and walked outside with us.  We assumed he wanted to see 'Nilla and give her an inspection, however this did not happen.  Rather, he simply handed the documents back to Geraldine and advised her that we now needed to drive 200 meters down the road to another Aduana office to get all of our information entered into the border computer system.  Oh the hoops.Inching our way forward in the long line of semi trucks, we finally reached an official looking booth.  Here we were advised that it is mandatory for all vehicles entering Costa Rica to get fumigated.  No problem, we have been through this before.  Enquiring where we needed to go to pay for this process, we were told right there.  Next we wondered where we could park so as not to block the one lane road, however the agent insisted parking right in the middle of the street was fine.  The mystery behind the long line was slowly starting to make sense.  We jumped out of the vehicle, waved at all the trucks behind us and quickly paid the minimal fumigation fee.  With receipt in hand, we drove forward and into what looked like an automatic car wash back home.  Equipped with sensors, the contraption started spraying a liquid onto 'Nilla the moment her nose passed over the threshold.From the fumigation area, we followed the semi trucks further down the road.  Spotting a sign that read Aduana, we pulled over.  As has become routine, we were advised that we were at the wrong office and needed to drive still another 100 meters down the road.  Perhaps some day we will figure out what happens at all the other offices that sport Aduana placards.  The parking lot at the real Aduana office was only large enough for four cars, so most vehicles had opted to park along the driveway.  We made our way to the end of the driveway and assuming that the four cars were those of employees, decided to park lengthwise across the parking lot entrance.  Inside, we noted that the building had a large foyer with four doors on either side and a staircase leading to the second floor directly in the middle.  The doors were well signed and we found the office we needed in no time. Of course so had the other ten people ahead of us.  Joining the line-up, we waited, and waited, and waited.  Absolutely nothing was happening in the office.  No-one was going in, no-one was coming out and the two men that sat in the office seemed oblivious of the crowd gathered directly outside their door.  The first half an hour of waiting passed by rather quickly as we listened to several of the truckers complain about the constant slow service they received at the Costa Rican border.  Mr. Texas had managed to show up at this Aduana office as well, so our second half hour of waiting was spent chatting with him.  Finally, we had movement in the office.  The two men that had been behind the desk got up from their chairs and exited the office all together.  Moments later, two other gentlemen from the office next door, came over and occupied the two empty chairs in our office.  At last people were starting to get called in.  Now that we had action, the wait was non-existent.  As we were sitting in the hot seat answering questions, a lady entered the room and asked us if we owned the big van outside.  Apparently we were blocking in her car and she wanted to leave.  The timing could not have been more perfect as we were just finishing off.  Paperwork in hand, we walked outside and fired 'Nilla up.  A short drive further down the road, we pulled up to an armed booth.  Here we simply showed the guard our Insurance, fumigation receipt and were officially allowed into Costa Rica.  The clock on the dash read 12:15 pm.  It had been a long four hours, however once again we were pleased with ourselves for getting through the tangled mess without a border guide. We were again riding the Pan-American Highway and from the border it led straight uphill into Costa Rica.  The incline was moderate and the road twisted its way to the summit in no time.  The drive along the plateau was a gorgeous stretch of highway where the trees grew in an arc over the road.  We immediately noticed new shades of green in the lush fields that lined the highway.  Cruising along we came upon the town of Canas, where we had read there were camping options.  Driving up to Hotel Capuzuri, we enquired about camping on their property.  That was not going to be a problem for the hotel, however with a  price tag of nearly $20 USD, it was certainly a problem for us.  We can rent a room along the highway for less than that.  We should note that Hotel Capuzuri did have a swimming pool and were willing to throw in a complimentary breakfast, but that was just not enough to get us to part with that much cash. Moving on, we rolled into Liberia and found a well developed town which is the hub of numerous roads leading down to the surfing beaches.  We pulled into the strip mall to hit the grocery store and were surrounded by shops selling Reef, Quicksilver, Roxy, Billabong and other surf apparel.  It was insane.  The supermarket was one of the best we have come across since Mexico and we methodically walked row by row to be sure not to miss any food usual to home that we may have been craving.  We did not find anything of the sort and simply picked up the essentials.  The grocery bill totalled nearly (21,000.  The currency in Costa Rica is still taking some time to get used to as it converts around 500 to 1.  We have a stack of thousand dollar bills in our wallet, which seems to be more than it really is.Pulling out of Liberia, we headed for the mountains around Lago Arenal.  We had barely listened to one full song on the radio, before pulling 'Nilla off to the side of the road...watermelon stand.  Fresh fruit is so easy to come by, that we always leave this stuff off our grocery list as it is cheaper on the road. Geraldine knocked on a few before hearing the sound she liked and we were ready to cruise again.  Cranking the tunes, we rambled on to the lake.  The highway leading to Lago Arenal meandered up some steep inclines, but generally it was just a windy road that rose and fell over hills.  The cross wind was something else.  The trees were all bare on the north and west sides from constant wind battering and then branches would grow off the opposite side.  Half trees grew everywhere like we were in some sort of Twilight Zone.  We kept ourselves amused on the drive by looking around at the windswept landscape.  The first town we arrived at was called Tilaran and we pulled over to grab a tourist map of the local area.  The one shop that boasted to be a Tourist Information Centre, was nothing more that an overpriced souvenir shop.  They were selling things for ten times the price we had seen them in other markets along the way.  Talk about gouging.  Aside from receiving a free map, we were given limited assistance regarding information about the local area.  We were gracious to least have the map.  The ladies at the gift shop advised us that the drive around the lake to the town of Arenal would take us 1.5 hours or so and obviously, we were a tad shocked when we reached our destination forty-five minutes later.We had followed sings for the "German Bakery' from Tilaran to Arenal and we made that our first stop once we arrived in town.  Unfortunately, we were a little late and the bakery had closed for the night.  Driving around town, we found a sign for a Municipal Park and we headed straight there.  The park was situated atop a small hill right on the bank of Lago Arenal and was a beautiful spot.  Not knowing much about the safety of the area we headed back into town to ask around.  A police officer standing on the side of the street was a perfect person to ask.  His advice was to avoid camping out by the lake as it is too remote.  Heeding his advice, we pulled up on the street near the Police Station and set up camp for the night.  It drizzled rain all evening, and with nightfall came a noticeable drop in temperature.  It had been some time since we needed to wrap up in a blanket at bedtime.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1182304140/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1182304140/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1182304140/tpod.html Thu, 28 Jun 2007 19:07:20 -0400 Adventure of a lifetime!

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua

June 19, 2007 brought another soggy and muddy day, however Geraldine still stepped into her running shoes and headed out for a morning jog.  Today the 4 kilometre run was not as easy to complete and she found herself walking a lot on the way to her turn around spot.  Resolving that walking was not why she had left the van this morning, she pulled up her socks and managed to make her legs run her back home.  The process was strenuous and when she arrived home, her face was as red as a ripe tomato.  Not accustomed to having such little strength and stamina, Geraldine decided that her physical troubles were due to getting a little too much sun exposure the day previous.  It was either that or the fact that sleep is hard for her to come by when the rain storms roll in in the middle of the night.During her shower, Geraldine determined that she would not be going for a run the following day.  That way, she could feel okay about allowing the sun to sap her energy for yet another day.  We all have our priorities.  After breakfast, Michael once again worked on getting us caught up on our journal entries.  It was not until after lunch that he joined Geraldine on the beach.  As had become the custom, we spent several hours playing Frisbee.  Michael had been practicing his Frisbee skills in the days previous and thought he would try an around-the-back catch.  He was very close to catching it, however the Frisbee felt like flying off in the other direction and whacked him nicely in the neck.  There was no bruising and Michael was still able to breath, so play was resumed.  The game was nearly called to an end when once again the Frisbee misbehaved.  Michael threw a nice smooth shot in Geraldine's direction.  The Frisbee ricocheted off of her waiting hands and directly into her face.  The pain was minimal however the darn Frisbee had managed to cut her lip, and as Michael approached all he could see was Geraldine's red teeth.  Deciding that the Frisbee would not have the best of us, Geraldine wiped off her teeth and play picked up where it left off.The strenuous Frisbee match left us both tired and hot so we headed into our ocean playground.  It was nearing 3:00 pm and the afternoon tide was just starting to come in again.  So much fun was being had diving into waves that once more we found ourselves in chest deep water.  Geraldine was not comfortable with this and advised Michael that she was heading to shallower waters.  Michael was having too much fun and decided to stay where the waves were bigger.  As Geraldine watched from shore, she saw a large wave come up and over Michael's head.  Immediately he disappeared beneath the water.  The wave took a hold of Michael and threw him around like a rag doll.  At one point, all Geraldine could see were his legs sticking straight up out of the water.  It was humorous to watch from the sidelines; however Michael was none too pleased as he had ingested a large amount of salt water in the process.  Playtime with the big waves was now over.  We lay down on our beach towel and let the blazing sun sooth our battered and bruised bodies.Security guards had changed shift and Jose was now the man with the rifle.  He was a jolly fellow that also happened to have been one of the church leaders the night previous.  Jose approached us as we sunbathed and handed us a rock.  Examining the rock, we noticed shiny golden spots.  According to Jose, the rock was covered in natural gold and he was presenting it to us as a gift.  It was a thoughtful gesture and we accepted the rock with many thanks.  You never know, this one little rock might be able to pay off this trip. Hitting the showers, we were once again thankful that our hosts had agreed to allow us the use of one of their rooms.  It was a glorious feeling to be able to once again wash off the salt water from our bodies.  Showered and dressed we searched out the property caretaker, Milo, to enquire about our bill.  We had spent three days at Casa Maderas and were still unsure as to how much our stay was going to cost us. Initially the first security guard had given us a probable price of $10 USD per day.  This cost was too steep for us and it was highly unusual that we stayed without agreeing upon a reasonable price.  Breathtaking Playa Maderas and our prime location were ideal and had made it difficult for us to leave.  We managed to find Milo and were very hopeful that the cost was not going to be less than anticipated.  Milo seemed to sense our apprehension and asked us to pay C$100 per day, which works out to roughly $5.50 USD. We could not have asked for a better deal and quickly paid the man before he had a chance to change his mind.  All seemed right with the world.  In chatting with Milo's wife, she told us that the Baptist church service Geraldine had attended on the beach is a regular occurrence and they even have a radio show that has been on the air for the past ten years.  She mentioned that a donation, however small, toward their radio show would make a huge difference to their ministry.  We slipped a little something into an offering envelope for her.Knowing this was to be our last night at Casa Maderas, we once again headed over to Playa Majagual to watch the sunset. As we walked onto the beach, the first thing we noticed was storm clouds in the distance.  It was going to be another rainy night.  Once more the sunset did not disappoint as the sky filled with brilliant orange and pink hues.  The clouds in the heavens had also come out for our last night and were putting on a show of their own.  They were billowy and soft in appearance and seemed to be eating the colours out of the sky.  Softer trails of clouds hung lower on the horizon and created whimsical shapes.  Not to be left out of the grand finale, the ocean absorbed the colours of the sky and shimmered in shades of orange, pink and blue.  It was a most splendid evening and as we walked back to the van, we could not help but feel as if we had just been treated to our own private natural orchestra of colours and shapes.June 20, 2007 was the day we were leaving Playa Maderas.  Disappointed, we focused all of our energy on getting 'Nilla reorganized for another road trip.  In only a few days at the beach, we had things strewn everywhere inside the van.  It was like we had unpacked to stay for a month.  The cleaning and repacking took us most of the morning, as we also filled up the water tank and each took a considerably long shower as we never know when the next one will be.  As we pulled down our beach towels from the line, we were approached by Patrick, the owner of the property.  Patrick is from Southern California, however his mother is Nicaraguan.  We chatted about the location and the operation he had on the go and agreed it was a gem of a spot.  Patrick noted that most campers stay over at Matilda's and it was rare to see people like us at his place.  He hoped that with the closure of the hostel at Playa Majagual, his business would pick up and he quizzed us about our stay and thoughts on the facilities he had to offer.  We had nothing by positive comments and he welcomed us to return and stay on our way home if we were so inclined.  Receiving well wishes from everyone at Casa Maderas, we continued to wave goodbye as we headed down the road to San Juan del Sur.We pulled into town shortly before lunch and set up on the street next to Casa Blanca Hotel.  We had spent enough time in and around San Juan del Sur to be comfortable with our surroundings and we were set on free urban camping at the side of the road.  As we opened the doors, we spotted a Tropigas service truck across the parking lot filling up the propane tanks of beachfront restaurants.  We knew that our tank was nearly empty and since the nearest fill station was an hour drive back north, we decided to ask the truck to fill us up.  Grabbing our essentials, we climbed out of 'Nilla ready to walk the over to the Tropigas truck, but it was gone.  We both looked at each other with baffled expressions before hitting the pavement in search of our only hope to get propane.  A few blocks over and across we caught up with the truck.  Explaining our situation to the operator, we asked for a fill up.  The operator was uncertain if he would be able as all the propane on board was scheduled for delivery to the various beach front restaurants in San Juan and the surrounding communities.  Calling his boss, he received the green light to help us out.  We ran back to 'Nilla and drove her across the five block town to meet up with our new Tropigas friends.  We expected 'Nilla to need quite a bit, however the meter read 40 litres, which is the maximum capacity of the tank.  Our supply had been bone dry.  Without finding that truck, our refrigerator and stove would have been out of commission at some point during the day.  Thankfully, we are all gassed up and ready to ignore it again for a month or two. The entire day was spent in our favourite internet spot, Cyber Café Leos.  We worked on updating the website and uploading photographs for most of the day.  We did not mind as it was raining outside and there was not much else to do.  As we prepared to finish off a couple new entries, the internet connection disappeared.  After half an hour, we decided to abandon the waiting game and headed home to get some rest.  Since it rained most of the day, the humidity has lessened and 'Nilla had cooled off sufficiently to make for bearable sleeping conditions.  We drifted off to sleep at our campsite on the side of the street.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1182044580/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1182044580/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1182044580/tpod.html Thu, 28 Jun 2007 18:56:45 -0400 Adventure of a lifetime!

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Playa Maderas, Nicaragua

 At first light on June 16, 2007, we received a knock on the door from the security guard telling us it was time to pack up and leave the parking lot.  Rubbing our eyes and coming to, we were none to happy about our early awakening, however that was the deal we had struck.  We asked the guard about use of the bathrooms and he pointed us to a small shack in the middle of the parking lot.  Inside was the guard station complete with machetes and shotguns hanging on the wall.  Past the table and chairs sat a lone toilet in the corner of the room.  It was basic, but had all the essentials.  We also inquired about the shower that the guard had mentioned the day before, however we both passed on it when he pointed to the garden hose hanging on the wall.  The town was active with people and we just did not feel comfortable hosing off in front of hundreds of onlookers, besides we were headed to the beach with plenty of water to soak in.Packed up, we got set to pull out of the parking lot, when once again we realized that 'Nilla was still plugged in to the wall. Stopping abruptly, we pulled the cord, wrapped up the extension cord and were ready to vacate the parking lot for a second time.  Given the recent concern about our safety, we again hit the Internet Café to check in with the folks back home.  We had connected with our laptop, but for some strange reason, during our internet session, we lost the connection.  We have yet to figure out what went wrong, but assume that we now have some sort of computer virus.  We finished up a few more e-mails on a terminal at the Internet Café and as we were finishing, a random parade rolled down the street.  Geraldine ran outside with the camera to watch the one float parade roll down the road.  The float had a full band leading and another following, which in volume made the event seem much bigger than it was.With numb fingers, we logged off the computer and jumped in 'Nilla anxious to get in some beach time.  We headed out of town with no map and very poor directions on how to reach Playa Majagual.  The dirt road off the highway snaked through the hills along the shore of the Pacific Ocean and we happily followed it waiting to reach a fork in the road.  It was only supposed to be a few kilometres down the road, however we had driven into double digits and realized something was amiss.  Again, we asked some locals for advice and were sent back in the direction we just came from.  We were now looking for a side street just past the first bridge.  Easy enough.  Down this side street we found the fork in the road that had been referenced in our earlier directions.  Back on track, we followed the narrow road under towering trees toward the ocean.  Nearing Playa Majagual we noticed a concrete wall surrounding the entire place and construction of some sort was in full swing.  We drove further and reached Playa Maderas.  The road reached a dead-end next to Camping Matilda's and we stopped in to enquire about camping.  The owner explained that he had no place for us to park, however across the way Casa Maderas had ample room.  We also learned that all the land in front of Playa Majagual had recently been sold and the new owner shut down the other camping place and is developing the land into a gated community of residential vacation homes.  The only access to the beach now is along a small path next to the security wall that is built around the land.We walked over to Casa Maderas and the security guard agreed to let us camp and have access to electricity, a bathroom and a shower in one of the cabanas.  This was on condition that the units did not get rented while we stayed there.  The guard had no idea how much camping would be, but figured it would be reasonable, so we pulled 'Nilla up and parked.  We were literally steps from the beach and could not have asked for a better spot.  The inviting sun was shining bright and we spent the entire afternoon under its rays rotating between sitting on our beach towel to playing in the surf.  Just what we needed. When the sun started to fade, we hit the van to rejuvenate our bodies with some much needed water.  Michael prepared a massive pot of goulash, while Geraldine busily worked on getting some journal updates done.  Geraldine only managed to get a few paragraphs typed as Michael's constant interruptions made it  difficult for her to get anything done.  Michael decided to antagonize her by commenting on her lack of progress in an effort to motivate her, however this tactic backfired.  As dinner simmered, we had a knock at the door.  The security guard had come to get us to see the family of howler monkeys that had gathered  in the trees above our van.  The monkeys were so active it was difficult to get a good look at them as they constantly ran back and forth along the branches and even jumped form tree to tree.  Amazing experience to have right at camp.The darkness brought with it a driving rain that did not let up all night.  We have now officially started to see the start of rainy season in Central America and it sure is wet.  The group of travelers that set up hammocks in the trees had now run for cover under the covered patio at Casa Maderas.  Stringing their hammocks from the poles in front of the cabanas, this would become their new home for the night.  Exhausted from the sun exposure and physical exertion, we settled in for an early night.A baby blue sky and a blazing sun was the perfect sight to wake up to on June 17, 2007.  We decided to walk across the beach to the second bay of Playa Maderas.  The sand had not yet heated up and still had enough moisture to make in cool under our feet.  The tide was halfway out and there was ample sand and exposed rock to walk on in order to round the point.  The second bay is filled with surfers as the waves roll perfectly into shore.  There is not much for accommodations on that side except a run down shack with basic rooms.  There was also a restaurant that had decent prices given how remote the place was.On the way back to our perfect location for more beach time, we passed a sign that offered surf lessons through a place called The Hide-Out.  Michael has been eyeing these types of signs ever since we got into Mexico, however had yet to take anyone up on their offer.  Today just might be the day. We headed up the steep narrow cut in the rocks to the Hide-Out.  As we walked, the nearby crabs hustled to get out of our way and scurried into the dense foliage that lined the path.  It almost felt as if we should have been wearing rain gear as the sounds of the little crabs scampering about were those of raindrops.  The proprietor of The Hide-Out, Dave, was in the kitchen when we reached the top of the path and greeted us with a solid "Hello."  Upon questioning the man, we found out that Crazy Dave was an ex-pro surfer from California.  This sounded promising as who better to get lessons from.  The price of a lesson and all day board rental was fair, and we continued to ask when the best time would be to set up a lesson.  Immediately we were told to show up at high tide in the morning.  Great.  What time does the tide come in, we asked.  Oh it comes in an hour later every morning, was the reply.  Okay...so what time did the tide come in this morning we inquired.  We were told 5:00 am and finally we felt like the past five minutes had not been a complete waste of time and breath alike.  We thanked Dave for his helpfulness and advised him that we would think about it and get back to him.  Not more than 15 feet back down the path, Michael stated that he was not completely sold on hiring the services of Crazy Dave.Back at our little strip of paradise, we had a quick lunch before resuming our place on the beach directly underneath the suns rays.  While working on a crossword puzzle, we were approached by a young lad who was intrigued with our Alberta tire cover.  We soon found out that Brennan, a fellow Canadian from Victoria, had been offered free room and board by Crazy Dave at The Hide-Out in exchange for construction assistance in completing his Bed & Breakfast.  Brennan had taken Dave up on the offer and had several amusing stories to tell.  Sounds like Crazy Dave was quite the character, but Michael still chose to pass on the lessons.A short while later, a Ford Escort rolled into the parking lot of Casa Maderas and three men and one woman jumped out.  Immediately, we were attracted to the newcomers as they were sporting a British Columbia license plate.  Chris, Rueben, Wisse and their female friend were originally from Holland and had flown to Vancouver to start their journey of the Americas.  From there they had purchased a worn down Ford Escort for $400.  Piling into the Escort, they had followed a similar route to ours and ended up next to us in Nicaragua.  What a small world it can be sometimes.  As beat up as their little car looked, they claimed to have had no mechanical problems thus far.  They had encountered a few other issues, however nothing they could not live with.  Firstly, their drivers side window was now made out of plastic as someone in Antigua, Guatemala had decided to break it for them.  Secondly, their rear driver's side shock had blown directly through the wheel well and ended up behind the head rest of the rear seat.  Apparently, the car still worked fine in that state, so they had not bothered to repair it.  We wondered how they were ever going to make it back to Canada in that car, and they advised us that they were planning on selling the car in Panama and flying to Buenos Aires.  What an interesting crew.  They continued unpacking and we returned to sunbathing and playing Frisbee along the shore.As it neared dinnertime, hunger got the better of us and we headed to the van.  We had just finished eating when we looked outside and saw the sun was retiring for the evening and leaving behind it a palate of colours.  We jumped out of the van and quickly walked the narrow path around the point to Playa Majagual.  We made it just in time to catch a wink of the sun before it was swallowed up by the water and rocky point in the distance.  Knowing that there would be another sunset tomorrow, we walked back to Casa Maderas.The Holland Connection had set up a table and chairs and were in the throws of a card game when we arrived back home.  They had seen us depart in haste and enquired if we had made it on time to catch the sunset.  When we explained that we had missed it by a hair, Rueben informed us that they had watched two sunsets from their perch at Casa Maderas.  Apparently there were two suns in the sky and they had set directly opposite each other.  To this point we had not heard anything about two suns, and although Rueben was adamant about what he had seen, we were sceptical.  As we excused ourselves from Two Sun Rueben, we met up with the security guard.  He asked us if we had any interest in seeing Sea Turtles and we both replied with an affirmative answer.  The guard said he would come knock on our door when the turtles came in and would take us to the beach to see them.  We retired to the van and passed the time reading, working on crosswords and typing journal entries.  Somewhere along the way we both fell asleep and neither one of us heard a knock on the door.Geraldine awoke with extra energy on June 18, 2007 and decided to strap on her sneakers and hit the soaking wet dirt roads for a morning jog.  She returned about 30 minutes later, muddy, sweaty and partially exhausted, but good on her for getting in some exercise.  Showered up, we bid farewell to the Holland Connection.  They had to take off back to Granada as they had all handed in their passports in a hostel and had forgotten to retrieve them when checking out.  We laughed.Michael had a productive morning hammering away at the keyboard and getting caught up on our journal.  Geraldine earned a much needed rest from her run and spent the entire morning sunbathing and moving very little.  After lunch, Geraldine headed right back out the beach, while Michael decided to follow the routine of locals and catch a siesta.  Refreshed, he later joined Geraldine on the beach for another rousing round of Frisbee and swimming in the ocean.  The ocean at Playa Maderas is fairly shallow and we generally only go out waist deep as the pounding waves and strong currents can be intense.  At one point we had gone out a bit too far and when the water level rose to about chest height, we headed back for shore.  Just as we reached the comfort zone of waist deep water a wave broke right on our backs and sent Geraldine twisting and twirling forward.  When the bubbles settled and she stood up, she complained of an instant headache, which was likely due to the few litres of salt water that was forced up her nose.  We called an end to the swimming day, however salt water continued to drip out her nose for the remainder of the day. Getting back to the van as the sun was starting to head behind the hills, we rushed to get ready.  Not wanting to be late for another sunset, we packed up our beach chairs, a bottle of wine and a bag of peanuts to head over to Playa Majagual.  We arrived at the beach just in time to watch the sun sit atop the horizon like a shining dome over the edge of the world. Time seemed to stand still as the sun sat in the distance.  Like children, we skipped rocks into the waves breaking on shore.  We even scratched our initials in the sand just to watch the water roll over them and roll away leaving only a faint trace.  As the sun rounded the point and continued to be swallowed up by the horizon, it left a dotted path of reflected light back to the coast.  With wine in hand we toasted each other and all our blessings as we watched the sun go to bed for the night.  Once the sun was entirely out of sight, we waited patiently for the resplendent swipes of pink, orange and yellow to light up the clouds like they were brush strokes purposefully placed on a canvass scene.  It was remarkable to watch the royal blue night sky enter from the east and take over like a powerful advancing army.  We waited for the final advancement, which was when night consumed the sky and all we had left to stare out into was darkness.We had not formally had dinner and were both a bit peckish and decided to check the pricing for a plate of fish at the beach front food shack.  A full dinner that usually fills up the two of us was only $3, so we decided to try it.  Just as the plate of fish was dropped in front of us, a gathering people along the beach started to form a semicircle around the east side of the shack.  A church service was forming right in front of us.  The crowd began singing with the accompaniment of background music from a CD player.  Geraldine recognized some of the tunes and started to sing along, even though she was the only one using the English words.  One of the men conducting the service spotted her clapping her hands and bopping her head to the music and he called her over to join the circle.  Leaping to her feet, a cloud of sand dust was all she left behind.  Geraldine enjoyed herself while Michael kept himself entertained as a spectator.  After the service, we finished our dinner and then headed back to 'Nilla for the night.Click this link to see more photos:  http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLandingSignin.jsp?Uc=16xvaj2z.85lp1wev&Uy=-mxcwzj&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=0
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1181943360/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1181943360/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1181943360/tpod.html Wed, 27 Jun 2007 21:43:07 -0400 Adventure of a lifetime!

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua

Still hot under the collar Michael woke up on Friday June 15, 2007 ready and eager to hit the Police Station in order to plead his case on the fraudulent ticket he had received.  We rolled up to the Station at 8:00am, which is when we were told the office would open, however it was still closed.  Walking around town and reading our English-Spanish dictionary we had rehearsed a few sentences to argue our position.  We returned at 8:30am and the doors to the Traffic Division were finally open.  Talking with the Officers on duty, we learned that in order to fight a ticket we needed to speak with the boss and he was off until Monday.  Of course, that is just our luck.  We were put in touch with an English speaking person at the precinct that was willing to help us write a letter to the boss explaining our case.  Things started to be looking up, until she said that appeals take at minimum one week to get results.  There was no way we intended on sitting around Rivas for a week, for a small moral victory, given that the price of the ticket was only $12 USD.  The agent also informed us that we did not receive a ticket for speeding, rather for failing to obey a posted sign...whatever that means.  Humbled by the lengthy process, we agreed to pay the ticket.  Now comes the catch...Michael's license had not been turned in by the Police Officer that issued the ticket and he would not be coming to Rivas until later that day around 2:00pm.  It was only 9:00am and we had an entire day to kill in Rivas and there was really nothing to do or see.  Oh well, we had to make the best of it. We knocked off some routine grocery shopping before deciding to hit an Internet Café to catch up on e-mails.  That plan was quickly foiled as the major storm the night before had knocked out the internet signal to the entire town and the service at ATM machines was also down.  Running low on money, we decided to continue walking and window shopping as we could not afford to spend a dime.  Michael was feeling ill all day and could barely eat anything besides crackers and soup.  Angry, sick and tired, he was not the most pleasant person to be around for six hours roaming some random town.  We did have fun cruising around the street market and passed time trying on shoes, hats and clothing of all sorts.  There sure are some odd fashions going on down here.  A few basic rules of Nicaraguan fashion include wearing camouflage of any colour loud and proud and be sure to accent any outfit with wedge style foam flip-flops and a gaudy belt.  Maybe this is fashion back home as well, but we are so out of the loop that we have no idea. At 1:00pm, we checked in at the Police Station and the license had still not arrived.  The agent assured us that it would be there by 2:00pm as she had talked with the Officer directly.  On this advice, we set out for the bank to pay off the ticket.  Banpro was the only bank in Rivas with a working ATM machine.  We waited patiently in the long line, however at our turn the machine rejected our card.  Of course it did.  We then went inside the bank to pay our traffic ticket, but were sent away on the instruction that Banpro's system was down and tickets were not able to be processed.  Fearing that we would be stuck in Rivas for yet another day, we sought out our alternatives.  The clerk at Banpro directed us to BDF, another financial institution down the street and we hustled there without delay.  Getting in yet another long line, we waited on aching legs for our turn at the teller.  The helpful lady behind the counter filled out some forms and sent us back to a side office to get some official banking slip to complete our transaction.  Thankfully, we bypassed the ever growing line for our second trip to the counter.  We handed over the cash and received a receipt that we needed to take back to the Police Station.  It was shortly after 2:00pm when we returned to the Station and as Michael pushed open the sticky door to the Traffic Division, he hit a Police Officer right in the back between the shoulder blades with the leading edge of the door.   The Officer grunted as he jumped forward and looked back startled.  It was then that Michael gained a small victory as the Officer he had shocked and winded was the guy that had given him the ticket the day before.  Yes!  We exchanged our bank receipt for the license and hightailed it out of Rivas to avoid any further contact with the now angered Officer. Twelve kilometres down the CA-1 highway we reached our turnoff to San Juan del Sur.  It was only a short 18 kilometres further, however the state of the road made it feel like 180.  The road would start out nicely paved and smooth for roughly 2 kilometres before it turned into a kilometre of dirt road riddled with massive pot holes.  This smooth to rough, to smooth again pattern continued for the entire 18 kilometres.  By the time we reached San Juan del Sur, Geraldine was exhausted from hanging onto the door handle. The day was not the sunniest, so we opted to head to the internet café as we had been without internet service for over a week.  Our lack of contact with anyone at home became evident when we started reading emails from anxious family members.  It had been eight days since anyone had heard from us and they had started to get worried.  It is amazing how fast time can pass you by when you have no schedule and never even wear a watch.  We were in the midst of replying to the concerned emails when the skies opened up outside and poured rain down on the town. We were happy to have been in the internet café rather than on the beach.  Having put uneasy family members to rest, we headed out to find a place to camp for the night.  As we were unfamiliar with the town, and knew nothing of how secure or insecure street parking might be, we looked for a hostel or hotel that offered protected parking.  Our first attempt did not offer parking to anyone but hotel guests, however they did direct us to a public parking lot next to Casa Blanca.  As we neared the parking lot, we determined that it would be perfect for us.  It was right in the middle of town, had 24 hour surveillance and there was ample room to park 'Nilla.  Now we just had to hope that the price would be perfect.  In talking to the security guard, we were advised that the cost would be C$100 per night.  $5 simply to camp was a tad too steep for us, however when he mentioned that we could have access to electricity as well as a bathroom, we agreed to stay.  As the nights get rather hot in the lowlands, it has become important to us to be able to plug in and run our fan at night without killing our battery.  It is essential to keep the battery relatively full as it ignites our refrigerator pilot.  Throw in bathrooms and all of a sudden $5 seemed like a great deal.  To top that off, the guard even agreed to let us shower if we were up by 5:00 am.  We were not sure why it had to be so early, but 5:00 am sounded good to us as it had been several days since our last bathing opportunity.  We parked 'Nilla and prepared dinner. Seeing as how we were in the middle of town, we were surrounded on all sides by bars and restaurants.  The catchy music was too much for us to take and after dinner we changed into clean clothes and headed out to see the town.  First stop of the evening was a mellow beach front restaurant.  The setting was beautiful.  We chose a table at the edge of the patio and stared out at the beach.  The sounds of the ocean lapping up on shore were a nice accompaniment to the soothing music wafting from the speakers.  We were one of two couples in the restaurant and after our first drink it became clear that the servers were ready to bring their work day to an end.  Not ones to hold up tired staff, we paid our bill and followed a new tune down the road.  This music was more upbeat and lively and as we neared Marie's Bar we could make out some distinct 1980's songs.  We decided that Marie's must be the place to go.  How right we were.  It seemed as if everyone in town had congregated there.  We entered the establishment and ordered a couple of drinks.  The bar was simply one large room with a handful of table and chairs lining the perimeter.  We imagine on some nights there is a dance floor, however tonight there was barely any room to walk, never mind dance.  We stood with our drinks for a while until a table with four chairs opened up.  Thinking it would be easier to watch the scene from the edge of the room, rather than the middle, we headed over to the empty table.  Manoeuvring through the horde of people had slowed us down and by the time we reached the table, there were two other guys just sitting down.  They both spoke English and invited us to join them.  Unfortunately for Geraldine she chose the seat next to the extremely inebriated Mr. Spits-when-he-talks.  She spent the remainder of the evening not only wiping her face and arms, but also trying to convince Mr. Spits-when-he-talks that spending his nights in a bar while his wife sits at home is not going to fix his marriage problems.  For some reason he could not grasp the concept, so eventually Geraldine had to excuse herself and go to the bathroom.  There were two bathrooms to choose from.  The Ladies Room on the right, which had a long line-up, or the Men's Room to the left which had no line up.  She stood in the Ladies line for five minutes before realizing that the floor to the Ladies Room was covered in water.  Apparently the toilet was plugged, yet still being used.  Not wanting any part of that scene, she bypassed the line-up and used the Men's Room. When she got back to the table where Michael was waiting, they both decided that it was time to head home as the clock on the wall read 1:30 am.  Immediately upon exiting the bar, Michael smelt street meat on a barbeque.  It had been hours since we had eaten dinner and he was once again hungry.  In true Calgary fashion, he ordered himself a fifty cent hot dog, which he devoured on the short walk across the street to our 'Nilla.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1181856840/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1181856840/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mikeandger/south_america/1181856840/tpod.html Wed, 27 Jun 2007 21:40:28 -0400 Adventure of a lifetime!

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Rivas, Nicaragua

On June 14, 2007, we woke up sweltering hot in the van after a sleepless night.  Grouchy, we headed down to the lake for a morning dip to cool off and refresh ourselves.  Laguna de Apoyo has nearly crystal clear water along the shore before the land drops off and the water darkens to a near black colour.  Michael swam around in the lake, however Geraldine decided to play it safe and stay close to shore.  The locals all have concrete wash basins stuck right in the lake and a family was doing their laundry about 20 metres away from us.  It is a wonder how long the clear water will last if it is used as a big wash tub by the locals. Towelled off and ready for a new day, we turned 'Nilla over and headed out of Laguna de Apoyo.  We were both impressed by how well 'Nilla climbed the steep road out with little complaints.  Back on somewhat level ground, we got a bit more speed in the wheels and journeyed to Granada.  Granada is advertised as a walk back into colonial times as the period homes, churches and commercial buildings are now restored and brightly painted as if it were still the 16th Century.  This old city is nestled along side Lago de Nicaragua and exudes history.  The city wears the handle of "The Great Sultan", which is reference to where the name originated across the Atlantic.  Granada is the oldest settled community in Nicaragua dating back to 1524.  The city flourished as it had a route to the Caribbean Sea via the Lago de Nicaragua and the Rio San Juan; however the success also attracted pirates who came in droves to steal away the riches.  Granada is a conservative city and has been locked in battle with the liberal city of Leon for centuries.  This ongoing feud was the reason the capital city was established in Managua, which lies geographically in the middle of the two.  Granada was also the site where William Walker set up residence during his brief stint as the self-proclaimed President of Nicaragua in 1856.  He was summoned by the residents of Leon in order to take Granada and thereby take the upper hand in ruling the country.  It worked for a period, but Walker was soon forced out of rule and the country.  On his departure he lit the city of Granada on fire and left the infamous placard reading: 'Here was Granada'.  Silly Walker. Street parking in Granada was easy to find and there was a wealth of tourists walking around the main square.  We ventured out into town and our first stop was Parque Central, which is covered in massive shade trees. The Cathedral with its exterior painted a mustard-gold shade of yellow stands out commandingly against the backdrop of a pale blue sky.  Life in Granada still moves at a slower pace and the preferred method to travel town is by horse and buggy.  Vendors can still be seen pushing their goods around town in wooden carts.  It was like looking into a crystal ball of times gone by, aside from the sounds of honking cars and buses on the other side of the park.  Unknowingly, we had parked near a hostel as we readied ourselves to walk town we met a few other travelers.  Tony from Vancouver, BC and Alex from France were staying in Hostel Oasis, which was a few doors down from 'Nilla.  We chatted briefly with them at the van and later met up roaming around town.  We all walked together down to the shores Lago Nicaragua to take in the views.  It was nice to swap travel stories and give each other pointers on places to go as we were headed to places they had already been. The town of Granada seems to be filled with hotels and churches and we passed many of each walking around.  Of interest to us was the Iglesia de Guadalupe. The church was constructed out of concrete that remained unpainted and tarnished with shades of black and green, which we reason were deposits of water mist and airborne debris stirred up from the nearby lake.  Iglesia de Guadalupe was originally a fort and converted into a church in 1945.  The building is situated at the junction of two one-way streets and was towering sight with empty roads flanking its two sides. It was approaching midday and we convinced our new friends to join us for a snack in Parque Central.  We had read about a local dish called vigaron, which is ground yucca, a potato like tuber, topped with pork rind and cabbage salad.  Not wanting to miss out on a local delicacy, we all sat down to try it.  The dish had great flavour; however the fried pork rind can leave much to be desired when you can still glimpse the pig hair emerging from the skin.  Michael did not shy away from that sight, as he simply flipped over the pork rind and kept eating.  At least we tried it!Cruising down the Pan-American Highway, we started to see an increase in road signs marking school zones and speed reductions when students are present.  As no children were present and we were not traveling very fast to begin with, 'Nilla likes to keep the pace slow and steady, we did not reduce our speed all that much.  We did however slow down immensely when we spotted the telltale orange pylons of a police check point up ahead.  Police Officers are not immune to curiosity and we have become accustomed to getting pulled over at nearly every check point, so it came as no surprise when once again we were flagged down.  This time though, we noticed that one of the Officers was using a radar gun to track the speed of traffic coming from the opposite direction.  Assuming that we had been waved over out of curiosity, we had our license, registration and insurance papers ready for the officer as he approached the window.  Handing over the paperwork we asked what the problem was and received a mumbled reply in Spanish that neither one of us understood.  The officer took our paperwork, walked around the van, checked out our plates and even peeked in the windows down the passenger side.  Standard curiosity.  Unfortunately, when he returned to the window, he told us that we were getting a ticket for speeding.  "NO!" was the first word out of Michael's mouth.  The Officer simply ignored Michael and continued filling out the ticket.  Michael was getting worked up and tried to explain with limited Spanish that the Officer behind the radar had been facing the other direction when we approached, however it was all falling on deaf ears.  Our registration and insurance was handed back to Michael, along with the infraction slip.  Michael's drivers license on the other hand was pocketed by the Officer as he walked away to nab more speeding motorists.  Rather agitated, Michael had a hard time stifling his emotion.  His Spanish vocabulary was not helping him out, so he continued to yell  "NO!" out the window.  At this point the Officer behind the radar gun approached the van and showed us a clocked speed of 79 km per hour.  Supposedly this was the speed 'Nilla had been driving.  The funniest part was that since we had been pulled over, that same radar had been used to pull over half a dozen other cars before we were shown our supposed cruising speed.  We sat in the car completely confused as smoke continued to vent out of Michael's ears.  We attempted to read the ticket and figure out what to do, but we were at a loss.  Michael managed to call the first Officer over and ask for an explanation as to what we were to do with the ticket and how he could get his license back.  The Officer took a couple of seconds to advise us that we needed to drive to the town of Rivas, pay the fine at the bank and then return to the police check point to retrieve his license.  This did not sound like something Michael was interested in doing as he was still proclaiming his innocence.  By now the Officers had had just about enough of us and motioned for us to move along down the road.  Michael was still trying to reason with the Police, however when one of the Officers made a motion to put handcuffs on Michael's wrist, he quickly put 'Nilla into gear and were off like the wind.  Innocent or not, there was no need to compound the situation by getting thrown in jail.In Rivas, we drove into town and found the Municipal Police Station, however the office for traffic violations was closed until the morning.  Great.  Now we had to find a place to hole up for the night in the layover town of Rivas.  We inquired about parking at a few local hotels and were denied at every spot.  Finally, we found a public parking lot and the security guard was willing to let us pull in and spend the night for C$20, which is a little over $1 dollar.  It ended up costing us a bit more as we gave the guard a C$10 tip and bought him a soda pop on our walk around town.  Still, secured parking for under $2 for the night was a great deal. To wind down, we walked around Rivas, however we covered most of the major landmarks and streets within half an hour or less.  Michael wanted to relax and we ducked into Restaurante Pollo Dorado for some Latin music and a few beers.  We sipped away at large litres of beer until the adrenaline slowed and our exhaustion caught up with us.  Heading back to 'Nilla for the night we stopped off at Pizza Hot, not to be confused with Pizza Hut, and grabbed a snack for the van.  Neither one of us was in the mood for cooking and the success of our recent pizza experience was still fresh in our minds.  Still on the route home, we passed an Internet Café and we were able to log in and read a few incoming messages before the place closed for the night.  Finally, we headed for home completely spent of energy.We had just climbed inside 'Nilla when a deluge of rain poured down on top of us.  Rain was leaking in the van from what seemed like everywhere.  It must have been the angle we parked on but both the windows and doors on the passenger side had so many drips, it was hard to tell where one leak ended and another started.  Geraldine focused on sopping up water inside the van, while Michael threw on his raincoat and armed with garbage bags, he headed outside to plug up the gaps in the doors.  The leaks slowed in spots and stopped in others so at least his work was not done in vain.  When Michael opened the door to the van to get back in, he was soaked from head to toe.  Only his shoulder and torso were dry from wearing the raincoat.  The rain had poured on his head, up the sleeves and even half filled up an open pocket on the jacket.  It was some of the heaviest rain we have encountered on the trip.  We are unsure how long the rain lasted as we fell asleep while it was still coming down in buckets.Photos... http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLandingSignin.jsp?Uc=16xvaj2z.bpnq4nyv&Uy=-obacw8&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=0
]]>