Nicaragua

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Saturday 10/11/12 – We rose to our first Nicaraguan morning, and had a frustrating time trying to start my uncooperative bike. Once we were up and going, it was a fantastic ride south. The roads here are the best since USA, it’s a pleasure to ride without needing to worry about potholes, missing roads or speed humps; however the ever present dogs, cows, pigs, donkeys and the occasional horse still insist they have right of way. We rode through the city of Matagalpa and decided to ride up to the mountain town of Jinotega, it’s the highest city in Nicaragua and the rode is very scenic. We rode up through the misty mountains on a windy and remote road. We rode on through mountain passes without seeing any other vehicles and few people. We flew around the corners until we were all of a sudden confronted by a tree lying across the road with a machete-man standing behind it. My heart sank as this is usually how hijackings and kidnappings begin in this part of the world; but he was smiling and waving and had cleared a small section of road we could ride through. We made it up to Jinotega which turned out to be a cold, wet and mostly uninspiring city. I guess after riding this far on all different kinds of roads, the ‘scenic routes’ don’t quite hold the appeal they used to. We rode back to Matagalpa (giving an enthusiastic thumbs-up to machete-man) and found a small backyard-style chocolate factory. We pulled in and rode up a perversely steep driveway where the brakes wouldn’t hold the bikes, and found a flat area of grass to park. We approached the seemingly abandoned building and rang the doorbell (the doorbell was a scary looking dog that went wild as we approached). A small Nicaraguan lady came out yelling at the dog and showed us the chocolate making facilities. After much discussion we purchased two chocolate blocks which somehow managed to disappear in the 2km ride back to the hotel – I think I put them on top of the pannier and forgot about them.

We decided to check out the historic centre of Matagalpa but were disappointed that the local coffee museum was closed on Saturday afternoons. Down in the dumps we decided to visit a local café in the Centro which was small and quiet. After ordering our drinks, a handful of American tourist turned up destroying our tranquillity by yelling at the workers in English and refusing to pay in anything but US dollars. We returned to the hotel and rang Kenz’s mum to wish her a happy 60^th birthday.



Sunday 11/11/12 – We rode onto the impressive colonial city of Leon, which was previously the capital of Nicaragua. The ride in was a rare treat, we blew a few cobwebs off the bikes by taking them up to 110km/hr – an impossibility since the few Mexican toll roads. We found a hotel with a suitable foyer for bike parking and then organised a trip out to see the local Sunday afternoon rooster fight. Midday arrived and I laid down for a short nap as I had suddenly felt tired. I awoke 3 hours later in a cold sweat and shaking uncontrollably. It seemed that I was struck down by some mysterious affliction which rendered me incapable of controlling my bodily functions and almost totally bereft of the faculty of legible exchange with Kenz. Indeed it felt like Iggy Pop himself had been cursed to an existence within my body and was raising hell trying to fight his way out. I gave Iggy his escape via some uncontrollable vomiting and spent the rest of the day and night in a cold sweat whispering all the lyrics to the Fun House album like it was a rosary. Unfortunately, Iggy thought my company would be better spent with him rather than fighting cocks, so I missed out on this Nicaraguan tradition.



Monday 12/11/12 – I spent today lying in bed watching my quivering stomach have spasms and listening to our chain-smoking neighbour clear the phlegm from his throat every 5-10 minutes. I managed to join Kenz for a short walk down to the local laundry lady with our dirty (and crispy) clothes – none of which have been machine-cleaned for over a month. Many of the clothes were now holding our body shape after taking them off – for example my socks were always in the shape of a foot, and felt like cellophane every time I took a step.

After an afternoon-long cacophony of phlegm clearing noises, we had a street-meat dinner with Byron and Isabel, fellow trans-American adventure riders who we had met online and had been in contact with since the start of our trip. Unfortunately they had been stuck in Leon after hitting a wheel, fork and rear-shock killing pothole near the Honduras border, and have been waiting for the new parts for their 1979 ‘Airhead’ BMW. It was great chatting with a couple who were on a similar adventure, being able to trade stories and ideas was a great relief from the generic questions we are usually asked by backpackers and other travellers. We walked a few blocks in the city before being spotted and followed by a group of street kids who innocently danced and banged on drums. I think their plan is to hassle you with brain numbingly loud drums until you pay them to piss off! They wore strange costumes including one kid who carried around a 10 foot papier-mâché woman with a frilly dress which he would spin in time to the drums. We managed to give the kids the slip and snuck into a bar where we chatted over a few drinks.



Tuesday 13/11/12 – Today we jumped on the back of a bright-orange truck and headed out through some villages and forest to a nearby range of volcanoes. At many times the forest refused to yield and we regularly got slapped and scratched by branches and twigs. Once we found the right branch-avoiding techniques and positions, we were constantly showered by twigs and leaves; and more interestingly by leaf dwelling critters such as spiders, ants and bugs. The truck arrived at an active cinder cone volcano, we all jumped out and got handed a bright orange jumpsuit and volcano-board. After an intense hike up the volcano (which almost beat Kenz) we got to watch the sunset over the volcanos and Pacific Ocean, we then gazed inside the crater at the sulphur plumes - the volcano erupted many times in the 1990s. As the sun was setting we slipped into the jumpsuits, sat on the boards and rode them down the outside of the volcano! We descended over 500m in just 750m of slope in a totally out-of-control manner. Kenz got clocked at 47km/hr., and I went 57 – the record for the day was an insane and stocky Canadian guy who reached 71 km/hr!! A few people came off and rolled down the volcano in a cloud of black gravel and dust. Neither Kenz nor I came off, but we did get covered in gravel which got knotted in our hair and managed to sneak around our clothes and into strange parts of our bodies! The frightening trip back to Leon was in the darkness where we couldn’t see the forest that was trying to climb into the back of the truck, or the potholes in the road that made us jump out of the seats.



Wednesday 14/11/12 – This morning we went to a local Nicaraguan house for a cooking class. We went to the market where we had to buy all our ingredients. At first I was keen to cook an iguana soup, however when I saw the cute iguanas that I would have to decapitate and skin, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. The lady explained that their thick scaly necks were very tough and it required a great deal of effort to hold the iguana down and saw through its neck. Deciding that iguana soup wasn’t really for me, we picked a beef and vegetable stew recipe where we didn’t have to behead or skin the cow, just the vegetables. We bought the ingredients and then jumped on the local transport and headed out to a local tortilleria (tortilla making shop). The local transport is anyone who owns a truck or ute – he momentarily stops on corners where you jump on and throw some change at a young kid who holds onto the back. It seems that the drivers delight in having a reputation as the craziest and insane drivers in town – a challenge they take very seriously. This guy was particularly wild and people had to stand as it was dangerous and gut-churning to sit down, he also had a police siren which he would switch on when stuck behind a slow driver. We jumped off at the tortilleria and got to make our own tortillas – under the eyes of the ladies who have done this for 12 hours per day for their whole lives. A few eyebrows were raised but overall I think they were content with our efforts. With our thick and strange shaped tortillas under our arms, we walked a short distance to a local family’s house where we would cook our lunch. It was a typical Nicaraguan home consisting of a living room (with TV and children’s beds), a single bedroom for all the adults and grandparents, and a dirt-floored kitchen. Under the supervision and guidance of our instructor, we cooked the stew and then enjoyed it along with some fish that that her father-in-law had caught that morning. We then caught the local transport back to the city centre; luckily this driver was more tranquil meaning that we didn’t feel the need to bring up our lunch like last time.

We went out for dinner with the other bikers again and then had some more drinks. We wished them luck before heading back to our hotel for the night; they really weren’t bad people for Brits 😊



Thursday 15/11/12 – We made haste to the city of Granada this morning. Granada is another colonial city that was at one time competing with Leon to be the capital of Nicaragua. The city does feel as though it’s desperately trying to compete with Leon, but just falls short – the streets were dirty, the people are a little hesitant, and it just doesn’t have the historic feeling that is found in Leon. Our journey to Granada was made interesting on two occasions, the first was riding through the now-capital city of Managua (similar to most other Central American capitals in its unhospitable vibe, lack of road signs, dirty streets, and chaotic atmosphere), and a run in with the cops. I overtook a truck on solid lines, was pulled over by the police and alleviated of $24. The police were actually trying to not be corrupt claiming that they would confiscate my licence and send it onto the local police HQ, which I could then pick up after depositing my fine at the bank. It sounded like a scam and I was waiting for the “or you could just paynow”, but it never came. He was even trying to organise another police car to take me into the city to pay the fine. After about 20 mins of pretending I didn’t understand when he said something I didn’t want to do, he eventually agreed to just take the money and let us leave. He was so frustrated that he was almost pulling his hair out!

We arrived in Granada and immediately organised a night tour up the local volcano called Masaya. We watched the sunset from the crater of the volcano; the colours were amazing due to the amount of gas and steam pouring out of the crater into the path of the setting sun. Once it got dark we could even see a faint orange glow of the lava in the crater reflecting off the steam and gasses. We then went exploring with tiny flashlights down a bat-infested lava tube. The bats didn’t seem to mind us intruders and just kept flying past us in the dark – I actually felt a few whizz past my ears!



Friday 16/11/12 – After previously spying a local chocolate factory near the centre of town, we decided to head there for breakfast. We enjoyed the all-you-can-eat buffet breakfast (my favourite were the crepes) and then signed up for a chocolate making workshop. We learnt about the history of the Central American and their relationship with chocolate. We roasted some cocoa beans in a traditional clay pot, peeled the husks off, ground the beans in a mortar and pestle and made a chocolate paste. We then added various herbs and spices to make the traditional drinks of both the Mayans and Aztecs. We then also made the typical Spanish chocolate drink that was used once the precious beans were transported back to Europe. The final hour of the course was spent making our own flavoured chocolate bar, we decided to make ours banana flavoured. It was a risk we took which didn’t really pay off – it didn’t taste too good and I already had a chocolate hangover from eating everyone’s leftovers.



Saturday 17/11/12 – This morning we packed our bikes in the narrow hotel corridor before warming them up at an obscenely early hour – much to the displeasure of the cantankerous hotelier. Kenz decided to etch her name into the freshly painted orange hotel wall, but instead of using a knife or stone she decided to try and use her bike. The result was a shower of bright orange cement dust and a thunderous boom that must have woken everyone in the hotel who wasn’t already awoken by our bike-warming. The hotelier transformed from cantankerous to sullen and glared at us as we struggled to pick her bike up in the narrow hall. We took off before he really got angry and headed south towards the ferry to the island of Ometepe. I guess he had the last laugh as the fall must have broken Kenz’s registration sticker cover off the back of the bike, and later her headlight guard must have flown off somewhere on the highway.

We made it to the ferry with plenty of time and after managing to make our way through the ticket area we rode straight out to the pier and straight onto the empty ferry. Unfortunately the man who ‘organises’ the vehicles positions on ferry didn’t want us on yet and made us reluctantly ride back off and wait at the end of the pier. So we sat in the shade of the only tree along with a man with a sack full of crowing roosters, and a grumpy horse who kept trying to eat the hair of any woman who ventured too close. After watching most of the cars and trucks being loaded, and admiring the person free radius around the front of the horse for about 20 minutes, I got nervous and had a chat to the organiser who assured me in Spanish that we would be loaded on at the end. Well the ‘end’ came round and he sized up our bikes and the postage stamp-sized space left on the ferry trying to work out how he could squeeze both bikes on. He stood there trying to nut out a solution, the only one I could see was if we vertically stacked the bikes on top of each other. He then suggested that they might leave the ferry tailgate down and we could park the bikes there, however they would be hanging out over the back of the ferry for the whole journey (I then suggested to him a few recommendations on where he could position his ferry). After a few shrugs of various shoulders, we bid him a safe and pleasant journey and watched him pull off and sail out towards the island of Ometepe. Being totally at peace with the situation I calmly negotiated a ticket refund and bid adieu to the lovely ferry terminal staff.

We were so enervated from the whole time-consuming experience, we decided that Nicaragua could go swivel and we headed to the nearby border with Costa Rica. As we road to the border (Penas Blancas) we met James, a Colorado man doing a 3 month trip to Panama and back on a Suzuki DR650. His Spanish was far better than ours, and we decided to attempt the border crossing in convoy. The experience was an exercise in collaborative orienteering and patience (our only conclusion was that the Wiggles designed the Costa Rican border – who builds the offices over a kilometre apart when you have to go back and forth about 6 times for various paperwork and stamps?!). It was the most difficult and consuming border experience we have had. We thanked James for his help and headed to the border town of Liberia. We tried a few hotels before we found one in our price range. As often seems to be the case, our price range usually includes hotels that are thinly veiled brothels or truck stops. In no way were we being fooled about where we were staying tonight; whilst organising our room a dishevelled couple with no luggage came and hired a room for 3 hours. About 5 mins later, whilst we were unpacking, the guy came back out wearing just a towel and wanted a TV remote – I am not sure if he (or she) got their money’s worth…

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