All aboard

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Sabana Grande - the community we are staying in - is part of the region of Totogalpa and sits next to the smooth and winding tarmac of the Pan-American Highway. The nearest two cities, Ocotal and Somoto, are both 20 to 25 minutes (in opposite directions) along the Highway by bus. As Sabana Grande has little in the way of local services (a small medical centre, three bars and four little shops) a trip to either Ocotal or Somoto is needed for internet / telephone access, banks and any shopping needs beyond the basics. The relatively frequent local buses, roughly hourly, that we catch have consistently provided us with a truly rich if not rather unnerving experience.

There’s not one or even several companies that own and operate these local bus routes but instead each bus service appears to be run as its own little enterprise. Proudly next to each bus time on the timetable appears the family name of the owners which are largely all different. This eclecticism of ownership means that you are never quite sure what manner of vehicle is going to round the corner as you wait patiently for what is a very punctual service. Most buses are forth or perhaps fifth hand American yellow school buses and have certainly seen some action. In recent years Nicaragua has apparently moved up the pecking for purchasing these dilapidated vehicles as by accounts many used to come with holes in the floor which handily enabled passengers to watch the tarmac pass by but this is now a rarity. Travelling on these buses is a cosy experience as you are quite literally thrust, often in through the emergency exit, into a metal box stuffed to the gunnels with bodies. The volume of people does mean getting off can prove tricky particularly if not uncommonly one of the local burrachos (drunks) has taken up residence in the isle. The lack of space does not deter the local street sellers from parading their wares through the bus with everything from ice creams to headache tablets on offer. All of this in sweaty tropical heat is somewhat bearable and certainly entertaining but there is one extra addition that has featured on a few of our journeys that has rather pushes the limits of our tolerance. That is when the bus comes equipped with its own preacher who in no volume other than maximum (enough to out do the rather impressive rattling noises of one of these aged buses in motion) for the entire length of the journey proceeds to condemn us and our fellow passengers to damnation unless we part with a few coins to support their church. And all this entertainment for less than 20 pence a trip surely an utter bargain.

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