Is Managua, Nicaragua the place to be?

Mark Twain or Ben Franklin or Paul Theroux or Robert Louis Stevenson -all great travelers and writers said it best¨" Your trip begins the minute you leave the door of one 'home' and enter another." And so it was yesterday as I made my way on what I thought was going to be a zippy little 45 minute flight from San Jose', Costa Rica to Managua, Nicaragua.
Knowing my way around a few So. Am. airports I know to give myself more than enough time since there are 2 types of time in the world: Latin and Central Am. and the rest of the world. I arrived at the airport with lots of time to spare. Paid my rip off 'exit tax' and went to my assigned gate.
The gate guy appeared and put the correct flight and departure time on his little board by the door that exited onto the tarmac. Then it happened, the moment anyone who has ever sat in a foreign airport fears. An announcement is made over a bluzzy speaker and everyone else sitting near you bolts for somewhere. Happened yesterday. I was left sitting with 2 or 3 other gringos. Well, my mama didn't raise no fool. I followed the guys who spoke Spanish as fast as my arthritic knees would carry me.
The line was long and the clerks were agonizingly slow. Finally, I was told that the flight was indeed canceled but that instead of going out at the planned 1:30 it would be 2:30. Ok, I thought , that's not so bad. Only it wasn't my zippy little hop over to Managua. No, I was going to fly right over Managua and land in El Salvador. Then I was going to have to w ait 4 hours to the next flight to Managua. SO instead of getting ther at the planned 2:30 in the afternoon it would be ):30 at night.
Now, I have to tell you I know no one in Managua. I know no one in all of Nicaragua. All I had was an an e-mail address of the 'Nicaragua Guest House' that was somewhere in the city run by a man named Oscar and his wife ELena. In all my e-mails Oscar had told me he would pick me up. My original arrival was long past. Oh, I forogt to tell you. I had asked the TACA agent to call and tell Oscar all the information about the new flight number and times. She did call. When I asked her if she had spoken to Oscar, she said no just somebody at that I could always find a taxi or go to another hotel if no Oscar showed up. Folks, this entire trip is a huge leap of faith.
Well, Oscar didn't show up. But his 16 year old son Martin did along with a friend who drives a pirate taxi ( illegal ones without a sign or a little light on the top or a meter. Martin spoke no English. Francisco spoke some since he used to be an English teacher. But, he told me he could not live on the money that teachers get paid so now he drives taxi.
They got me to my new ' home'. The air conditioner was on, the room was clean and cool. It was no Holiday Inn or even motel 6 but it sure looked good to me. I slept fine.
The 'breakfast' was several pieces of cold toast. Martin seems to be running the show. I asked him if there was nay other food and he flatly said "No." Okay, plain stale toast it is.
He told me that he would walk me to a bank so I could get some money. We walked and walked and walked in 90 degree heat. I told him we were taking a taxi back. Always, when I travel I carry 2 debits cards. Sometimes they work. Sometimes they don't. I call it ATM lottery. And as I am finding out on Central Am. it is mostly VISA cards that work. I put my card in and it was refused. I tried again and BINGO! it worked.
Back 'home' I asked Martin to call Francisco as all the public buses are on strike and I needed to take a collectivo van to Granada. On the way to the bus station he gave me several lessons in surviving as a tourist. 1. Never drive with your windows down when you are at a stop light and there are lots of people 'selling'' stuff. He said they will just reach into your car and grab whatever they can and run. 2.Never wear any jewelry especially rings, earrings or a watch. and 3. Always hold onto your money.
We pulled into where the vans were gathered. It was like a 3 ring circus with shills trying to get as many people onto their vans as possible. It was complete chaos. "Don't get out yet", he told me. He found the right van and ordered 2 of the shills to get my backpacks out. I paid him and he told me to go as fast I as could. The boys had grabbed me a good seat right up front and wedged by backpacks in so no one could grab them. I tipped them well.
A little outside the station a large young man came on the van and I had ato move over. We were pretty tight for a good 3/4 of an hour. His name was 'Johnny'. He has lived 8 years in California but he said he had forgotten a lot of his English. So we chatted the entire way in Spanlish. When we got to Granada he helped me with my bads, found me a taxi, made sure the driver knew where to go and negotiated the As my friend Val says when we travel, " It takes a village to get us where we need to go." So far the villagers have taken good care of me.
Love, Carolyn

---

---