Kenzer’s Lobster Soup

On Wednesday morning we went to the other side of the island early to catch one of the games but neither of the two places that show the games had the generators working. Power on Little Corn goes out each day from 5am – 2pm. One usually wakes up at around 5.30am bathed in sweat after the fan has stopped. Some of the businesses on the other side of the island run their generators at different times, and they’ve been good about doing it for the World Cup. However this particular day they must have run out of fuel or just decided not to switch them on.

So we were just sitting at a table outside the grocery store, being lazy and figuring out what we’d do now. A local guy, Kenzer, sat down and he and I started to chat. Rich was involved in another conversation with some girls from Idaho and Holland. I was asking Kenzer if he could get us some lobster. The season starts on July 1 – that’s when the veda is lifted and they’re allowed to catch them again. But I figured we could find some lobster somehow before then. I worked out a deal with Kenzer that I give him 100 cordoba (about US$5) now (more later) and he would go buy some vegetables, then catch a lobster, go home make us a soup and bring it to us there at 2.30pm. Perfect, it was right when the lunchtime game would be finished.

At noon we headed back to Sweet Oasis for the game, had a couple of beers and by 2.30pm were quite peckish. But there was no Kenzer and there was no soup. I decided at about 3pm to go looking for him so I wandered down towards the pueblo and asked around for him, found his house - he wasn’t home. I asked plenty of people for him and told them he was meant to bring our lunch. I gave up and went back to Sweet Oasis where Rich couldn’t believe I went to his house. I think we ended up ordering a taco and another beer.

A little later some young kids were walking by and I asked them if they knew Kenzer (I was pretty much asking everyone). Yeah – he’s over there on the wharf. So I headed down there and found him and asked what happened to our soup. There was a bunch of guys there and they were all working putting out the lobster traps and I figured that if a bloke gets a days work that’s the priority. Fair enough. He promised that the next day he would meet us at the same place at 2pm with our soup. That was fine, there would be another game the next day and we will have just done the banana boating in the morning.

Thursday lunchtime comes and goes and by 2.30pm no Kenzer and no soup so we ordered some lunch and at that point abandoned hope for the soup. It wasn’t too bad as that night Carlito had some lobster in so we had huge lobster tails in garlic butter for dinner both that night and the next. I was more annoyed about missing out on the lobster soup than losing the 100 cordoba.

Given we hadn’t seen Kenzer and our lobster craving had been more than satisfied, we’d completely forgotten about it. Until Sunday. We’d just been snorkeling and weren’t quite ready for lunch at 1pm when we came back in so we had a beer and both ended up crashing out in the hammocks. I guess he didn’t know we were asleep because we both had sunglasses on so when he announced his arrival, loudly, it scared the crap out of us. There was Kenzer standing there with a hot pot of soup in his hands. He spent a long time telling us what a good guy he is and how he always does what he promises. My guess is that a few people would have been asking why I was looking for him and telling him to make us the soup. That’s more the way it seems to work around here.

The soup was great – more vegetables than lobster – but it is pretty cool how he made it in his home and then walked around the island to find us. And it was still burn-your-mouth-hot when it got here.

Since then Kenzer has been hanging around this side of the island, I guess trying to hustle other tourists. I told him yesterday though that if he promises to cook for people he needs to bring it on the same day as it’s ordered, not four days later!

Another win for optimism. Yeah!

The holiday from travelling

Rich and I met up in Managua on Sunday, 20 June. Rich had flown straight in from New Jersey after a quick decision a week before to come down for a quick holiday. My job was to take care of the hotel in Managua and the flights to the Corn Islands. All of that went smoother than I expected since you just call the airline, put your name down and show up on the day. No payment, no contact details, no passport details. But the system works. We showed up at 5am on Monday morning to the queue at the airport. Once it was our turn at the counter, sure enough our names were listed for the 6.30am flight. We sat there with our giant laminated, reusable boarding passes until our flight was called.

I’ve heard stories of people taking 10 days to get here from the other side of Nicaragua, pangas (boats) down rivers, stopping in different towns, chicken buses, etc. There is really no schedule for the boats from Bluefields on the mainland to Big Corn. Well, they say there is a schedule but everyone you ask tells you different days. Reality is they wait for enough people to pay for the fuel, and right now it is low season.

For us it was easy, the plane made a stop in Bluefields for 15 minutes and just after 8am we had arrived on Big Corn. A short taxi ride to the port where we had breakfast and waited for the 10am panga to Little Corn.

Having not seen each other for about six and a half years, Rich and I had much to catch up on so the night before we would have been lucky to get an hour sleep before we had to get up at 4am to get to the airport.

Waiting on the dock at Big Corn, we were so close but not yet there, was a little frustrating. It was hot, then it rained, then it was hot again. There was some trouble with the boat, they wanted to take a stack of beer across but the police got involved. They let them take the ice across (the ice machine on Little Corn is broken) but no beer. So after they settled all of that in their own time we were off on our little panga to Little Corn.

The panga comes across from Big Corn to Little Corn twice a day and once you get here there is a welcoming committee of people from the two dive shops and various places to stay, all trying to help you out. They seem pushy but once you’ve been here for a while you realise they are more friendly and helpful than pushy. A couple of times we even went down to check out the ‘freshies’ – something to do I guess.

It is fair to say that we did not do much that first week. We met a couple from Utah, Kat and Riley, who were also staying at Carlito’s and we spent most evenings together - drinking, telling stories, swimming, getting rowdy and jumping off the banana boat. A large part of our daily routine was morning swim, shower, breakfast, going across to the other side of the island to watch the world cup – most days we watched a game at Sweet Oasis at lunch time where we could sit around the bar, drink beer and eat tacos or quesadillas. Come back, swim, nap, drink beer and decide where to go for dinner. We did also manage to do some snorkeling one day and circumnavigate the island on the banana boat another.

It has been interesting staying here and chatting to both long-term tourists and locals and getting a feel for island life. After about 36 hours here you meet most people you need to and everyone is extremely friendly. Jeff, the Aussie guy from the one dive shop we met on the dock when we first arrived, has been here for seven months. We asked how much longer he’ll stay – ‘til I stop smiling he said. It really is that kind of place – everyone is always happy, friendly and chilled out.

There are many stories we've heard and I will probably put those into separate posts. The reality of any island paradise is that there is a darkness and sadness to it somewhere, particularly in a poor country like Nicaragua. And I guess even more so when you consider that the eastern half of Nicaragua is under special administration and run quite differently and separately to the rest of the country. Even then the mainland isn't too bothered about the Corn Islands, and Big Corn is not that bothered about Little Corn. There are a couple of police who patrol the island occasionally but it seems they have had more success in the past with shooting themselves (accidentally) and each other (on purpose) than dealing with crime. The island tends to be self-policing to a large extent so anyone caught stealing or ripping off tourists or businesses is banished from the island. Sometimes sent to prison, sometimes disappearing never to be seen again. So the island is a safe place to be but no thanks to the police.

Isla de Ometepe

Yesterday I arrived in Isla de Ometepe, an island in Lago Nicaragua that was created by the two resident volcanoes, Maderas and Concepcion. The boat ride over here from San Jorge was quite an experience. The boat would definitely not be allowed in Sydney Harbour, that's for sure. We were on the top deck which barely had a bar around part of it to protect us. Add to that the water in the lake gets very choppy and yesterday the boat was rocking and rolling across. Thinking I might get a bit burnt I put my hat on before we took off but no longer had we pulled out of the port and the heavens opened. With no respite we just had to sit there and get wet, with the rain hitting like shards of glass in my eyes. It didn't last long and the strong wind partly dried me before another good soaking just before we docked - all that in a one hour boat ride.

The rest of the afternoon in the town of Moyogalpa was similar, intermittent rain and quite cool. As I sat in the hotel bar at night getting some internet time I was approached by a local who offered to guide me tomorrow. Initially offering his services as a guide for climbing Concepcion - I was not so keen - I said I would make up my mind in the morning once I knew what the weather would be like.

Sure as eggs he was here at 8 o'clock this morning and the sun was shining brightly. I hadn't changed my mind about Concepcion, a 10 hour hike and I'd already heard the trail was getting pretty bad in the rainy season. I opted for a motorbike tour of the island visiting a few sites and hiking to a waterfall. So I climbed on the back of Elmer's trailbike (barely room for me on the seat), he put on the one helmet he had, we stopped to get one litre of petrol (serious!), and we were off.

The island is bigger than you would expect and to get from Moyogalpa down to the waterfall on Maderas was 40km - half of that distance with shocking roads. The scenery once you got off the paved road was quite beautiful and we shared the road with horses, chickens, pigs, ducks, cows, a few people and a million butterflies, winding through different towns.

After a nice 3 hour hike through jungle up the side Maderas we reached an impressive waterfall - 56 metres tall. The rest of the day was lovely, we stopped at Merida for lunch, stopped at Playa Santo Domingo on the isthmus but it was raining, visited Ojo del Agua - a crystal clear swimming hole created by damming the river, Charco Verde - a beautiful lagoon in a national park with a story about a witch who lives in the water. Finally we stopped at Punta Jesus Maria which is a sandy spit reaching into the Lake which offers a beautiful vista of both Concepcion and Maderas. At that point it was nearly 5pm and I was buggered after about 4 hours of walking and over 80kms on the back of this dodgy bike. Relieved it was only about 15 minutes until we were back in town and typically, 3kms from town we get a flat tyre.

Elmer was completely deflated and true to the machismo attitude of the latinos, many preferred to point and laugh at him pushing his bike along the road with me trailing a few metres behind. Eventually we made it back here, covered in mud and sweat and rain. The cold shower was definitely a relief and the beer I'm drinking now an absolute necessity. Fun day!

San Juan del Sur

After a few rough days in town it was definitely time to hit the beach again. I don’t know what it is about Central America but as soon as I’m away from the coast for just a little while, I am desperate to get back. I don’t know how I’m going to fare in Guatemala.

Well futbol fever has hit the world and it is no different here in Nicaragua. I walked into Casa Oro hostel in San Juan Del Sur at about midday on Saturday, just half an hour to the USA vs England game – perfect timing.

The TV area in the hostel was packed and it was a great atmosphere – a few Americans, a few poms, a few Aussies and miscellaneous Europeans. I wasn’t sure which side I was going to support until the opening minutes when the loudmouth beside me convinced me I should be supporting England. Who yells out “de-fence, de-fence” in a soccer game?

It was hideous to watch the pommie goal keeper stuff up allowing that goal and after consoling a pom I confessed my sympathy was partly self preservation – I was a bit anxious about our game the following day. Deservedly so as it turns out. Watching the game the following day surrounded by Germans was a hideous and excruciating experience. A definite low point.

Life in San Juan del Sur is very laid back, a beach town that is pretty touristy. As in the rest of Central America, most people are here to surf – whether they’ve done it before or not. Even though it is the low season, there was plenty of buzz at the hostel which was great. There were loads of solo travellers so we spent a fair bit of time together going to the bars and just hanging out. Most travellers are in the 20-28 age bracket so hanging out with them means drinking games and tall stories. All good fun.

If you’re not into surfing, the other thing to do here is walk up to the cool statue of Jesus up on the hill which offers a beautiful view up and down the coast. Really though I have to confess to five days of doing not terribly much but having a great time nonetheless.

Green in Granada

I'd heard that Granada was a beautiful colonial city so I was excited to be going there to check it out. And indeed it is, gorgeous and quaint and you could easily be in Europe with all of beautiful churches. It is a much better maintained town that Leon but somehow that added to Leon's attraction - the rawness and its roots with the Sandinistas.

My excitement for Granada however was brought to an abrupt end after dinner on the first night and I spent the next 36 hours in pretty bad shape. I did manage to get out a little bit and walk around town and down to the lake but I have to say my appetite for all things, including adventure, was missing in Granada.

If I have time and get a chance I'll go back again to do more and see more including possibly climbing more volcanoes, swimming in more crater lakes and maybe a cruise around the isletas in the lake. At this point, the photos should give you an idea of the beauty of this town.

Getting around

Getting around Nicaragua is both complex and easy at the same time.

Most of the buses between the major cities and towns are former school buses from the US with adjusted engines and suspensions and of course fitted with super strength sound equipment. Its amazing that they keep going and seem to work so well.

Besides those buses you use taxis or collectivos to travel short distances for example from one bus station to another or around town. When I travelled from Las Penitas to Masaya I used a bus to Leon, a collectivo to the bus station, a bus to Managua, a taxi to the other bus station, and finally a minibus to Masaya.

While this sounds gruelling, it is surprisingly simple - especially since the locals are ever so willing to help you. Taxi drivers here will get out and put my backpack on for me and make sure I understand where I have to go next before they leave. They never try to overcharge either. Compared to Costa Rica and San Jose in particular, where I had one guy start driving off with my backpack still in the car last week. There they are pleasant as sunshine to get you in the taxi but as soon as you've paid, they're off quick as a flash, whether you're ready or not!

I would not rent a car here for anything as the bus rides are always interesting. Music is always blaring and there's always dozens of people getting on the bus at different points to sell you food and drinks. As in the rest of Central America, you only have to be on the side of a road for them to stop to pick you up and it doesn't matter if the vehicle is completely overcrowded, there's always room for one or ten more...

Yesterday as we were charging along the highway from Leon to Managua there was an almighty bang and several smaller pops. We'd blown a tyre. With absolutely no fuss, the bus pulls over, the young fit guys jump off to help and within 10-15 minutes, we were back on the road again - everyone totally unphased. I can't believe they didn't even ask us to get off the bus while they changed the tyre!

Las Penitas and Masaya

I was ready for a day of R&R following the hectic pace in Leon so I headed the short distance to Las Penitas, a small town on the Pacific Coast about 20km from Leon. It is a very small town and there is not much going on. I wandered down the road just at the right time when the fishing boats had come in with their haul and there was a flurry of activity in the water. Everyone getting their fish and cleaning them - the women had all come out to check out what was for dinner and there were pelicans and dogs all getting in the mix as well.

The beach at Las Penitas is black sand and the day so hot it wasn't worth risking burnt and blistered feet to go for a walk along it. The only people I did see out there were sprinting across the sand as quickly as possible to avoid getting burnt. The water was quite rough as well, similar to the Pacific beaches in Costa Rica - good for surfers but dangerous and exhausting for swimmers. It was nice however to be somewhere near the beach and to listen to the waves crashing as I chilled out and read my book.

In the evening I enjoyed a few beers with my new friend Ivan, a Canadian who has lived in Costa Rica for the past 12 years. He has had an incredibly interesting life and had lots of stories to tell. Currently having problems with his Colombian lover, we were both happy to chew the fat while the retro Nicaraguan radio station played favourites from the '70s and '80s in the background (read more ABBA).

The next day I caught a collection of buses, collectivos, minibuses and taxis to get to Masaya. A smallish town famed for its market which stocks a large collection of Nicaraguan and Central American handicrafts. The market sits within a beautiful old gothic fortress and is very pleasant to walk around. Not the hectic bustle of similar markets in Asia and other countries, there were more vendors than shoppers and there was no-one shouting at me to buy their goods. The town is very pleasant to stroll around and observe typical Nicaraguan small town life as there aren't too many tourists.

This morning before I left I took the short walk from the centre of town to the Malecon (waterfront) to the Laguna Masaya which looks across to the volcano - the most stunning vista.

I am now in Granada, a beautiful preserved colonial city and the pride of Nicaragua, where I will spend the next few days.

La Cultura de Leon

I did not expect to be up for much today with very sore legs after the past couple of days. But life is for the living and despite the very tempting pool here at the hostel I thought it best to make an attempt to see some of Leon. And I'm so glad I did.

I could easily be in a European city with all of the colonial architecture, churches and museums. But in Europe it becomes tiring seeing these in each city. In Nicaragua, or Central America, this is a sheer delight. To wander through streets and come upon beautiful churches and cathedrals, some ruins and experience some beautiful architecture, despite the weather which would have been pushing 40 degrees, was lovely.

I followed the walking tour in my guidebook, starting in Parque Central - which is in each city, no matter which city or country in Central America you are in. Right on the park is Basilica de la Asuncion - the largest cathedral in Central America. It was beautiful inside and I watched part of a service. Then wandered down to the Ruinas San Sebastian which was bombed in 1979. I won't go through everything in blow by blow detail but some of the standouts are:

Museo de Leyendas y Mitos (legends and myths) which was a truly bizarre combination of tales of torture from this former prison combined with gaudy papier mache idols from local legends including ghosts, ghouls, beheaded men, animals and a woman with enormous breasts protruding from her dress. That is just a quick rundown...

Museo de Arte Fundacion Ortiz-Guardan which has an exquisite collection of art ranging from European sixteenth century to contemporary Central American artists, including pieces by Rubens, Picasso and Chagall. The building alone was breathtaking in its beautiful colonial architecture.

Finally there was the Museo de la Revolucion which explained the roots of the Sandanista movement. However my guide to this was in Spanish and while I got the gist I really need to read up to put all the pieces together.

All in all it was a very satisfying day in a beautiful city and was finished perfectly with a nice meal and a glass of red at my favourite restaurant across the road. If only I could take this restaurant to Leichhardt...

I'm pretty sure that tomorrow I'll be heading to the beach.

Climbing volcanoes

The trek began with my alarm going off at 3.15am after a sleepless night. I kept hitting the snooze button but eventually had to get up just before 4am to get to the Quetzal Trekkers office at 4am to throw down some breakfast and prepare for the big hike. We had to carry all our water for two days as well so my pack weighed about 18kg although I didn't want to find out the weight until the trek was over. We left the office just after 5am and waited for our local school bus to come bumping down the road and we were off. The group consisted of the two guides, a Swiss and an Aussie, both volunteers, and the other two guys in the group had recently finished their term with the Israeli army. All were in their early to mid twenties and avid hikers, so I was a great fit. Why am I doing this - I hate hiking??

After about an hour on the bus we got off by the side of the road and started walking up a path towards Cerra Negra. This is the youngest volcano in the group, having most recently erupted in 1999. Unlike the other volcanoes which have vegetation, Cerra Negra is solely black gravel and volcanic stone. Like a black desert wasteland. We left our bags down the bottom with Dom and the rest of us climbed up round the side and through the crater in the middle before reaching the summit. Smoke was spewing out through the crater in the middle and the smell of sulfur was quite strong. Most of the adventure companies in Leon offer Volcano Boarding as a daytrip where you ride down the black gravel on a snowboard type construct. We didn't have this gear with us today so our only option was to run down. From the top it is incredibly steep. I didn't really want to injure myself this early into it so I said I'd walk down. Fine, Adrian said but you'll just end up running. He was right. It was fun, I felt like a kid with my feet sinking into the gravel as I ran down with a big grin on my face.

After a short break at the rangers station, where they kept a rattlesnake and a couple of pythons, we started off on the steep ascent through Las Pilas towards El Hoyo at the back. I knew this would be the hardest part and it would be over by lunch time. Only one and a half hours they told me where it would be really steep. Being the only girl and the only over thirty I did not want to make the group regret my presence so I pushed on and found it was actually not as difficult as I expected, thanks I guess to all the practice at the Yoga Farm.

As the afternoon wore on the clouds came in blocking our views and then the rain came. Both of these were a blessing as the cooler temperatures made the climbing more bearable and not seeing how high our final destination was kept me charging ahead. We arrived at the campsite at about 3pm and thankfully there was a short break in the weather so that we could set up the tents. Almost as soon as we finished the rain came bucketing down which forced us to have a nap for a couple of hours. When we emerged from our tents at about 5pm the clouds had cleared and the views were breathtaking. We looked out across Lake Managua and Volcan Momotombo and across to many of the other volcanoes in this range and watched the setting sun across the Pacific Ocean. El Hoyo literally means the hole and this volcano was named after the massive sinkhole which we were camped beneath. We took a walk up there in the evening but I was a bit freaked out by it and scurried back down once I had a quick look inside.

Unfortunately the rain soaked all the firewood and despite everyone's best efforts, there would be no toasted marshmallows on El Hoyo this evening. It was a beautiful evening looking down at the lights from the different towns, we could see across to Managua and a few other towns. But most impressive were the stars, it was such a clear night and perched so high on a volcano looking out to the stars was magical.

We were up again at 5am to catch the sunrise across the other side near Momotombo and after a big plate of oatmeal we headed off to Laguna Asososco, a crater lake which looked like it was just beneath us but took nearly four hours to get there. The descent was difficult in many parts with steep sections of loose volcanic gravel. It was a relief to cool off and wash off some of the mud and sweat we had accumulated over the past day and a half. There was one more steep climb out of the crater then we were back onto a dusty road for a few more kilometres to get a couple of buses back to Leon. I can tell you I was so glad to have a shower and a beer by the time I got back in the afternoon.

This couple of days was topped off in the most perfect way, a beautiful steak and a glass of red wine at a really nice restaurant across the road from the hostel. The guides had told me about it and I am so glad. It was the first time I've eaten steak since leaving Sydney and definitely worth the wait.

It is worth mentioning the amazing organisation I did this through, Quetzal Trekkers. It is run largely by volunteers and all profits go towards helping the street kids in Leon. What we pay for the trek is largely a donation and the guides aren't paid at all. It has a truly sustainable approach with even plastic water bottles being reused many times. They generously provide any equipment you don't have like tents, backpacks, sleeping bags, etc which have all been donated. Care is taken on all the treks and there is only the lightest footprint left behind so that the trail is kept in tact so others can continue to enjoy future treks.

The Nica adventure begins

There were a few ways I could have gone the other day. If the bus for Limon had come I would have gone there and then up to Tortuguero for a few days. But as it turned out the bus for San Jose came first so here I am in Nicaragua. Leon actually at the moment.

Driving into Nicaragua, it was interesting to notice how so much of the land was cleared, a lot of it for no particular reason. There were some animals and crops but for the most part there were hills of cleared, unused land. In Costa Rica and Panama this would have been dense jungle.

It was a pretty long day on the bus yesterday including buggerizing around at the border for a few hours and we finally rolled in to Managua about an hour before sunset. Just enough time to get some dinner and be back at the hotel before dark. I even had a TV in my room - first one I have seen in a few months...

This morning I hopped in a taxi winding through the streets of sunny Managua with an ABBA medley playing a little too loud on the radio. I ended up with Voulez Vous in my head for the rest of the day and in the bar where I am eating and writing this to you tonight, they are also fond of ABBA, and John Denver. I digress.

A short microbus ride brought me to Leon, a university town. I already love being in Nicaragua and can't wait to see more. So far I have seen the inside of three banks and they are so much nicer than those down south. The architecture here uses a lot of heavy timbers in a beautiful old colonial style.

I am heading off tomorrow for a bit of a trek on some volcanoes. Hopefully they'll behave themselves...

Puerto Viejo

I had met a girl earlier in the week at yoga who had been volunteering at a local program to protect the turtles. She said they needed volunteers and I was sold. However it was not to be as she didn’t come to yoga on Friday as planned and I had no idea how to find her. I did try to get to Soropta on my own but it proved difficult and costly so I continued on my way.

Staying in the Carribean mood I crossed the border back into Costa Rica and headed to the legendary Puerto Viejo, a rasta surfing community. After settling into my hotel and showering, I popped into the bar down the road for a quiet beer when lo and behold I ran into another Yoga Farm alumni, Greg – another Aussie. He was now travelling with a couple of his mates so we ended up hanging out and getting some dinner.

One good thing to do in Puerto Viejo is not much at all, besides a bit of wandering around and chilling out on the beach. That pretty much summed up my day. Stupidly I ended up getting quite sunburnt so had to stay indoors for the rest of the afternoon. Puerto Viejo is a really cool town, obviously touristy but relaxed and fun. The scenery is beautiful and around the town there is not much but jungle on one side and beach on the other, typical of most parts of Costa Rica I have seen.

In the evening I went to a local soda run by the lovely Isma for dinner where my Aussie mates found me again. We had a good night of a few more beers and hanging out at the beach, amazed at how still the water is on this side of the coast.

The plan for the next day was to head to Cahuita, about half an hour up the road with a beautiful beach and more laid back than Puerto Viejo. I got of the bus and was wandering around with my pack and all my gear on but there was something about the place that just didn't feel right. I don't know whether it was the European expat who came up to me and looked like she came for a holiday 10 years ago and never left and now looks like a junkie, or the rasta who was offering to help me find a place to stay with a half finished bottle of guaro in his hand that he was swigging. The town looked quiet, too quiet. So I went back to the bus station and thought I'll get on the next bus that comes.

San Jose it is...