Colourful Granada

---

Day 218: Beguiling Granada

I wasn't feeling so fabulous this morning, but fortunately managed to wake up fifteen minutes before check in, and after some speedy packing, me and Chris went for a much needed breakfast. Not hugely disimilar from a traditional Costa Rican breakfast, traditional Nicaraguan morning fare involves much beans, rice and plantain. We skipped on the beers that the next table were lining up next to their plates of food, and opted for coffee instead!

After collecting our bags, we climbed aboard another not-fit-for-service-in-its-native-country US school bus, and I was rather amused to discover that I was even able to see the ground through holes in the floor of this one! The bus driver didn't seem to be in a hurry to go anywhere. Over the course of forty-five minutes, people got on and people got off without the engine even starting! Finally, after much chopping and changing, the bus finally seemed to be full enough, and we were finally off, driving across the partially-built roads towards Rivas where I would have to change for Granada.

Chris was going to Ometepe and so got off a bit earlier, leaving me on the baking hot vehicle until the end of the line at Rivas bus station, a transport hub for the Pacific side of the country. From here, I found the Granada chicken bus, which was living up to its name, with more than one person hanging onto bags of live birds, and twenty minutes later, I was on my way to Granada.

Fortunately the day's torrential downpour happened whilst I was on the bus, and was all over by the time I arrived in Granada. With not too many daylight hours left, I trudged across town past all the beautiful brightly coloured buildings, looking for the language school that had arranged my accomodation for the week. Unfortunately I was following a Lonely Planet map, which turned out to be not very accurate, but after asking around, I got there eventually, and having met the owner, was promptly sent back in the direction from whence I'd arrived, to go and meet my family.

A few blocks away from the centre of town, I met Carla, the mother of my host family. It was hard to work out who was who, although I found out that two of the younger people there (in their twenties), were her children, whilst there were several other people milling around as well, one of which was the maid, so they must have comparatively more money than the average family. Having got the vegetarian issue out of the way, I had tea of a couple of tortillas with cheese and sour cream, before catching up on some sleep. The house set up is certainly different to the traditional western model, with a load of small buildings (serving as bedrooms and the bathroom) surrounding a courtyard, and an open air kitchen out the back overlooking a yard of chickens. The living areas, were in the courtyard, but housing the television, stereo and sofas, were under cover. My bedroom was nice enough, although I was a bit unnerved by the number of religious items everywhere. I don't think I've ever slept with a cross above my head, and a ceramic of baby Jesus on my bedside table before.


Day 219: Back to School with a difference

Since I'm staying here for a few days and spanish lessons are relatively cheap, I thought I'd sign up for 'classes', and after a rather filling breakfast of fruit and pancakes with butter and syrup, I head back to the language school for my one-to-one lessons. Rather than the conventional method of being in a room with just one teacher, this school seems to have taken its methodology from speed-dating, with each pupil rotation from one teacher to the next every time a bell goes. Although this allowed a fairly lengthy period of time with each of four teachers, it did mean that neither of you got too bored, so it was quite good. The teachers were pretty variable, so it was good not to get stuck with just one of them! They ranged from the owner, who concentrated on improving my grammar, to the nineteen year old boy, who took me on a guided tour of the town, didn't let me talk too much, but told me all about himself, and pointed out all the best places to go drinking and things to do in town. Not the best conversation practice, but at least I got to see some of the town!

Back at base, I met Chilo, the family's cook and cleaner properly, who seems very nice, but due to lack of anunciation of syllables, I'm not too sure what she's saying most of the time. Anyways, she cooked me a huge lunch of beans, rice, potatoes and plantain, before I settled down for a kip under the fan in my room, trying to escape the baking heat of the day outside. Despite comparatively humble lodgings, I reckon my 'family' must have a bob or two if they can have a maid. They're also quite excited about an upcoming trip to the USA, with the house a hive of activity as they're drying pounds of beans and maize and baking a whole load of biscuits to take with them! Again, there seemed to be many more people in the house than actually live there, as beans were dry roasted over portable gas stoves and then left to dry in the sun, and women gave each other manicures. Leaving the hive of activity, I went for a walk to explore the town, spending some time in the wide open plaza, and visiting the town's ancient iglesia (church) de la Merced west of the centre. I got back just in time to avoid the day's thunderstorms, and sat around with the two other gringas staying at the house, who arrived a little after me. Unfortunately, getting back a bit late and after the maid had left, meant that we didn't have any dinner, and with everyone else out of the house (which was subsequently eerily quiet), we eventually decided to go to a local restaurant for some food.

Although dinner was nice, the food on offer confirmed, as I had already been informed, that vegetables in Nicaragua are very hard to come buy. The vegetable spaguetti contained a few meagre offerings off chopped baby sweetcorn and and carrots that had obviously just come out of a tin, but otherwise was fairly dull. Fortunately it was a bit better for the addition of a glass of wine, but I'm still missing veggies (already). We got back home fairly late, and after a nice refreshing cold shower, I was off to bed, with more 'lessons' booked for the morning.


Day 220: Family life

Despite a perfectly good bathroom, with indoor jet of cold water serving as a shower, I left my room this morning to be greeted by the mother of the family throwing buckets of water over her naked self in the courtyard of the house! Having averted my eyes, been glad that it wasn't the 'dad' that I bumped into, and had my several rounds of cheese, sour cream and tomato ketchup toasted sandwiches for breakfast, I set off for class!

Lessons followed a similar pattern to yesterday, and on the whole were good practice, with the mixed bunch of teachers providing ample opportunity for me to make linguistic mistakes. After 'school', I stopped back at the house for another ginormous lunch before going for a walk around town. I espied a language school in the main plaza of town in a grand building opposite the cathedral and just popped in, just to find out how much classes were. Ten minutes later, I found myself in a room on my own with an exam paper having agreed to a private class and review of my linguistic abilities tomorrow!

Back at home, everything had descended into chaos, as the 'parents' of the family are going to visit relatives in Miami for two weeks, leaving tomorrow. Preparation has invariable involved manicures, hair curlers, weighing luggage, and bagging up an extensive number of parcels of dried beans, dried maize and rosquilla, traditional local biscuits. They seriously have a lot of luggage! It's all rather chaotic, and after dinner, I was more than happy to escape the hive of activity with the other two gringas and head into town for a few drinks to celebrate Laura's (the Canadian girl) last night. We had a pleasant evening at a couple of bars getting back at midnight, when it was finally quiet enough for me to get a bit of homework done!


Day 221: Random conversation and Life without the parents

Having gotten up early to finish my homework, I was relieved by the absence of naked family members roaming the courtyard. Although there were a few asleep in the open air living area curled up under sheets! Forgetting or not registering the vegetarianism, Chilo presented me with a plate of bacon, eggs and toast this morning. I left the bacon and apologised, trying again to explain that I really don't eat meat (and eggs cooked with meat aren't ideal either, but I'll save that for another day). All in all, it was a bit strange since everyone who subsequently arrived at the table was given a fried egg sandwich with no bacon in sight!

Classes were much the same as yesterday except one of the teachers was clearly having a bit of an off day and insisted that I just read out loud for an hour rather than actually converse. All the other classes were alright though. After a quick sleep and some lunch back home, I said goodbye to Laura and then head off for my afternoon class.

In a grand building overlooking the main plaza, I met Maria Lydia, my middle-aged non-english speaking 'teacher', who like many others in her profession here, has probably not received much in the way of training. I told her I wanted some conversation practice, although I think she took this to mean that I wanted her to do most of the talking (which she did), and I got to learn all about Nicaraguan customs from food, to bank holidays and religious festivals (there are many). Having mentioned my travels, I also discovered that most Nicaraguans don't really get the opportunity to travel to Westernised countries. For a start they would need proof of identification to get a passport, they then need a bank account and wage slips (which again, noone has) in order to get a visa. As an additional hurdle, several countries, including the USA, apparently also require for you to be married or a dependent before they will grant a tourist visa. Maria Lydia told me she'd tried many times to get a visa to visit family in the USA but hadn't had any luck. Although not wholly what I'd hoped for, I booked another lesson tomorrow, if only to support the local economy (and my teacher seems quite sweet despite not letting me get a word in). Spanish lessons here cost a grand total here if five dollars an hour, and a proportion of that goes to the language school!

In need of something fresh and colourful to eat (they don't do veggies here), I stopped off on my way back home to get a big bowl of fresh fruit, before finding, back at base, that my rice and beans had clearly been fried in chicken fat and contained bits of skin. Yeuch. One of the aunties was round at the house, and along with the children and maid milling around, I couldn't very well leave it, so swallowed it all down whole with water and without chewing, before going to lie down and recover and then do a bit of spanish before bed.


Day 222: More school and the guy that nearly robbed me...

Morning lessons were made slightly more interesting today by one of my 'teachers', a guy in his early twenties, who wanted some medical advice regarding his genital warts (no, fortunately I didn't have to look at them). This wasn't entirely random since he did know that I was a doctor, but still a slightly strange discussion to be having in a spanish lesson. That said, I have learned a few spanish words that don't usually crop up in lessons!

Despite yesterday's lesson with Maria Lydia not being entirely helpful, I had said before starting that I was interested in having a couple of lessons and so felt obliged to meet her again today for one more. As well as a bit of slightly one-sided conversation, Maria lydia brought along a book of poetry of the Nicaraguan-born Ruben Dario, which I got to read aloud from and then discuss meaning and words I didn't know which was quite useful, so certainly not a wasted afternoon.

Back at the house, I had my dinner with Chilo (rice, beans and a yucca and breadcrumb stew) before heading out for a night on the town. The Dutch girls (from San Juan del Sur), Chris, and another English guy had arrived in Granada and were meeting up for a night out, and not wanting to miss out on the fun, I headed out to join them.

After a few nica libras and some food (which I passed on!) in a local restaurant, we head out to Cafe Nuit for some more drinks and dancing. A good night was had by all and with school in the morning, I decided to call it a night at about half-one. Chris offered to walk me home so I didn't have to find a taxi, and we took the short walk across town to my family's home. All was going well when out of the shadows, a man appeared wielding a rather large knife which he proceeded to wave at me. Fortunately I don't carry a bag when I go out at night, since I figure they're quite easy to steal, and with my money hidden in my clothes, I wasn't easily able to give him anything. Fortunately, Chris was on hand, and whilst I let out a rather loud scream, he shouted at the would-be robber, who then turned the knife on him. It turned out that our knifeman wasn't out for everything he could get, and was content when Chris handed over a few dollars, running off into the shadows in the direction of my family's house.

It was all a bit of a shock at the time, but since no harm came of either of us, we left it at me owing Chris a beer, as he walked me to the front door of my house and insisted he'd be fine getting home again. It turns out that I'm a liability!


Day 223: Schools out and a quiet night in

After an exhausting week at my alternative language school, at least I had a topic of discussion for my final morning. Unfortunately, I've always had a tendency to get the words for spoon and knife confused, which added a rather comical twist to my tale of events the night before! Leaving the language school, I head into town to the hostel that the group from the night before were staying at to make sure that Chris had made it back alive and also to see if they had a spare bed for the night. After being robbed very close to home last night, I've decided that safety in numbers may be the way forwards and so I'm subsequently returning to the world of dorms and hostels. I reserved my bed, and then went back home to have lunch and explain to Chilo and the others that I would be leaving that evening (before rice and beans were due to be served)! Having packed up my things, I said goodbye to my everyone and my comfortable double bed, and braced myself for life on a bunk bed once more, walking twenty minutes to the Bearded Monkey hostel, closer to the centre of town.

I couldn't stick around at the hostel for too long since I'd promised Maria Lydia, my spanish teacher of two lessons that I would goto a photo exhibition at the city hall. Exhibiting photos taken by and featuring children and adults living on a rubbish dump outside Managua, the pictures ranged from heart-warming to harrowing. Best of all, some of the children were at the exhibition, as was the american photographer who started the scheme to help them.

Back at the hostel, I settled in at the hostel, got some scrummy food from the onsite restaurant and watched the two films, screened nightly, before retreating to my top bunk early to catch up on a bit of sleep, negotiation my way past a sea of bodies that had set up matresses on the floor, almost doubling the occupancy of the ten-bed dorm.


Day 224: The blind massage

So, today I was meant to be getting up early and leaving for the island of Ometepe in the middle of Lake Granada. Feeling lethargic, I got up at about nine....and then changed my mind and went back to bed again. The others all left early to visit a nearby market town, and so left to my own devices, I thought that I would treat myself, and after an extensive lie in, I went into town to seek out some food for brunch and decided to have a massage.

Wanting to support the local community and for added feel-good factor, I thought I'd go for a 'blind massage'. I head to the desk and got chatting to the girl there who seemed very friendly and explained which massages I could opt for. Rather than the standard head and shoulders sitting massage, I thought I deserved to go all out and went for the full-body hour-long massage. She took me into a room and told me to undress, so I was stripped to my pants and laying on the couch when she brought in Juan Carlos, my masseuse. I was a bit taken aback, since I had expected the woman to be giving me the massage, but I reassured myself that he couldn't see anything and that he gave massages all the time. Said massage turned out to not really be the relaxing experience I had been hoping for as Juan Carlos turned out to be a little too attentive to the inner thighs and frontal chest regions, making me wonder if I was in for a happy ending. Fortunately he did heed my requests to avoid certain areas, and after a long and rather uncomfortable hour, I was relieved to be putting my clothes back on and escaping to the world outside!

With a bit more time to kill, I spent the rest of the afternoon in the slightly less risky pursuit of looking around the local museum at ancient stone statues and traditional paintings, before heading back to the hostel and meeting the others, who were greatly amused by my massage story.

The evening was spent again watching films and then playing cards with a group of other people. After one too many Nica Libras, I found myself agreeing to go out with the others. Fortunately, Cafe Nuit was very close to the hostel and so we spent a happy evening there, knocking back drinks well into the small hours, before heading back to the hostel.


Day 225: Taking Root

Despite being held up at knife point, and a rather dodgy massage, I seem to be getting a bit comfortable in Granada. Once again, I woke up this morning and thought about packing to goto Ometepe....and once again, I rolled over and went back to sleep. To be fair, after my rather late night, I was feeling rather hungover and persuaded myself that I deserved a lie in! Most people had gone off to visit a nearby lake, but not in the mood for a day trip, I found myself wandering round town with Chris. We were having lunch in a local cafe when we met an Irish girl who I'd spoken to a week before on the bus to Granada. It turned out that she'd been having a tough time, not only had she also been mugged, but her assailants had actually stabbed her. Relating other stories of violence against backpackers in the city, it turned out that we really had been quite lucky.

After a very long and leisurely lunch, we moved onto the city's plaza to people-watch and drink juice. Ever the optimist, I then went down to the pier. With the twice weekly boat to Ometepe due to be leaving the next day, I was determined that I should be on it. The ticket office was closed, but locals advised me to get down there early to buy a ticket for the afternoon boat over to the islands. With a thunderstorm pending, it was a half hour race back to the hostel before the skies opened.

I followed my lazy day with a suitably lazy evening, eating, drinking, and then finally getting an early night.

---