Rivas - The devil's bus terminal

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ENGLISH

The conductor's mad hollering of "Rivas, Rivas, Rivas" as we left San Juan Del Sur may have been a clue to the bedlam we'd encounter when we got there. However that first time we barely paused and got a taxi straight to the Ometepe ferry.

On our second visit to Rivas market-cum-bus terminal, our mission was to get a bus on to Granada. We were overwhelmed. The bag grabbers were in abundance "helping" us by removing our bags from the inbound cab before we'd even opened the doors.

The conductors shouted their destinations. Everyone we asked had a bus going to Granada. Lucky us. A miracle no less. Men, women and children swarmed - sweets, chocolates, ice creams, lottery tickets, oranges, but after a few days climbing volcanoes and marching in the hot sun with our backpacks Nathalie craved a cold diet coke. Unsurprisingly a diet coke, cold or otherwise didn't materialise when we made our way through the crowd by the taxi to the crowd by the market stalls. The exquisite perfume of Rivas market comprised diesel fumes, herbs, spices and flowers mixed with meat, fish and cheese warmed through by the mid-afternoon sun. An olfactory symphony!?

Back at the buses we loaded our bags on to the roof of one bound for Granada and took our seats. The kids were on the bus by then, one girl suggesting something inappropriate between me and her friend, then resorting to insults when another girl pointed out that Nathalie might have something to say about it. Our travel companions for the day Tom and Vicki were then accosted by another errant sales kid who decided tugging at Vicki's novel blonde hair was the way to kill some time before the bus departed. A beer seemed a suitable distraction from the cachophony of sales pitches and a couple of cold ones did materialise but only after i'd negotiated the horny lollipop saleswoman who blocked my way bodily until gave locked eyes and "noticed" her a little.

It was as I sat with the beers that a guy behind us pointed out that the bus wasn't going to Granada at all but somewhere else, from where we might be albe to get another bus to take us to Granada. The bus we were on it seems was just a theatre in which the sales kids, women and one armed beggars could entertain themselves with us dipsticks. So bristling and suspicious we got off the bus to nowhere onto another going somewhere and eventually, after 30 minutes more shouting from the guys and flirting from the girls, we we're off to Granada. Heaven instead of this hell. Vamos!

FRANGLISH

Au revoir Ometepe! Nous sommes à nouveau sur la terre ferme... et plus précisément sur la place du marché de Rivas. Oui, c´est ça : la plaque tournante pour le transport des passagers et aussi des poulets, vaches et cochons au Nicaragua.
Les odeurs du marché... Avec toutes sortes de viandes, poissons et fromages en plein soleil! Pourquoi utiliser de la glace quand agiter un simple mouchoir de poche fait fuir les mouches?
Notre but aujoud´hui: atteindre Granada cet après-midi. Tous les bus vont à Granada, on dirait. «Granada ? Si, si! Aqui ! » nous affirment tous les chauffeurs. On s´installe dans un premier bus (jaune, américain) pour nous rendre compte quelques minutes plus tard qu´il va dans une autre ville... d´où nous pouvons ensuite prendre d´autres bus pour Granada. On redescend, on récupère nos bagages pour les installer sur le toit d´un autre bus (jaune, américain), qui cette fois-ci (on espere) va directement jusqu´à notre destination sans faire de détours. How clever is that?
Et c´est reparti pour un tour! Le chauffeur met le pied au plancher et on s´élance à toute vitesse vers Granada. Heureusement, cette fois-ci, il y a une vierge en plastique à l´avant et un autocollant avec des paillettes qui dit: "DIOS BENDIGA ESTE BUS Y A SUS PASAJEROS."... Aucune crainte à avoir donc.

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Comments

[annie thomas]

bonne année
bonne année et bonne santé à tous les deux, soyez fous et profitez bien de votre liberté je vous envie mille bisous annie