The Long Schlep to Nicaragua

Luckily, someone had the foresight to assume that all the backpackers on the island would probably be fighting to get on the first ferry back to the mainland on January 2nd, so we bought our tickets in advance. Good thing we did! We got to the dock at 5:30am and the ticket window was PACKED. We never would have been able to leave.

The Canadians, the Australians, the Mainer, and I all traveled back into real Honduras together, and we parted ways in San Pedro Sula where they caught buses and planes to El Salvador, Mexico, and Guatemala respectively, and I caught a direct bus to the capital - Tegucigalpa. Once again, I was sitting next to a vomitting child. I'm starting to think it's standard bus procedure in Central America to have at least one passenger who can't handle the bumpy rides. Twelve bumpy hours later, I arrived in the capital.

My original plan was to meet up with the sister of the wife of one of our friends back in New Jersey, and I had already gotten in touch with her to let her know I might be stopping by, but when I got to the capital I couldn't find a computer with Skype on it, and it was too late to use any of the public phones, so consequently - and also in the interest of time further down the isthmus - I decided to move on from Honduras the next morning to continue my adventures in Nicaragua.

First about Tegucigalpa though - I was pleasantly surprised as our bus barreled over the mountains and into the valley that cradles the sprawling city at how picturesque it was. This is exactly how I had always pictured a Latin American capital -- huge, bustling, colorful, surrounded by mountains, lots of colonial buildings and a massive central cathedral. A mix between the landscapes of Athens and Rio with a distinctly Central American vibe -- Tegucigalpa is the first major city here that I've actually enjoyed and thought that I could spent a little more time exploring.

Although hectic, as expected, my next morning of travels was extraordarily efficient. I caught a taxi at 5:15am that brought me to the bus station just in time to catch my bus, which left at 5:30. I got to the next transit stop a few hours later, where I grabbed a quick lunch. As I was paying, the woman said ¨your bus is leaving,¨ and she pointed to the parking lot where, indeed, my van had started pulling out. I leisurely walked over and threw my bag on top and jumped in the moving van - squeezing myself onto a board in the front with 18 other sweaty Hondurans. Another bumpy hour later, I arrived at the border and grabbed my bag. I pummeled my way rugby style through the dozens of rickshaw drivers demanding that I get in their cart to be escorted to the other side of the border. I didn't want to deal with their crap. ¨But you need me to give you a ride! It's an 18km walk to the other side and the LAST bus to León is leaving from there in only 10 minutes!!!¨ Bullshit, buddy. I'm no amateur. 1km and 20 minutes later, I had passed through customs and crossed the foot bridge over the river into Nicaragua. The cop at the other side of the bridge casually checked my passport and paperwork and handed it back smiling, ¨Welcome to Nicaragua! The buses are 100 meters ahead on the left.¨ I stopped to get an orange ice pop for 50 cents and leisurely strolled over to the dirt lot where the buses and shuttles were waiting, and I flagged down the van I needed that had already started to pull away. See rickshaw drivers? I didn't need you.

The pace and energy completely changed on the Nicaraguan side. The sun was shining, the music was more relaxed, the people were happier and friendlier, and I sat just sat in the back of the van enjoying my ice pop and the fantastic views of dry brushlands, looming mountain ranges in the distance, and smoking volcanoes ahead of us. Not a care in the world. A few kilometers down the road a very enormous and very outgoing Nicaraguan woman hopped in the van with her two young kids and excitedly exclaimed ¨great! there's room in the back next to the skinny guy!¨ She squeezed her way in next to me and plopped one of her fidgety kids on each leg - she was the life of the party until we reached our destination.

This bus station was completely different from any I had seen in Central America so far. There were tons of vendors all over the lot selling dirt-cheap snacks and beverages, which was one of the things I love and miss most about Asia. Laughing kids, smiling old women, quarreling teenagers, markets with overwhelming varieties of tropical fruit, warm Latin music emanating from the growling buses, and best of all - no one yelling at me or trying to rip me off. I was totally digging Nicaragua.

My LAST bus of the long journey was simple enough - one hour, nice scenery, fruit vendors running through the aisles every time we stopped to pick someone else up. We finally arrived in León - the original Nicaraguan capital until some time in the 1850s. Just judging by the bus station and market at the outskirts where we were let out, I already knew I would like the city. Instead of taking a cab, I decided to do the half hour walk into the center on my own. I strolled past colorful stuccoed storefronts with red tiled roofs, happy grandmothers sitting in the shade on streetside rocking chairs, horses pulling carts down the cobbled streets, and tons of vendors selling fruits and drinks I have never seen before.

I dropped off my stuff at one of the most interesting hostels I have ever stayed in -- half hostel, half dentist. The woman was quite a character. Then I went out to explore the town - wandering through the numerous beautiful churches built centuries ago, the small colorful alleyways, and the main market, where I had one of the best meals I've eaten in Central America for only 3 dollars. As I was walking down a street near the central plaza, an old man yelled a greeting to his friend who was passing on the other side ¨Sandino is still alive! He isn't dead!¨ Yep - this is definitely Nicaragua :) This part of the country is where the Sandinista movement began, and you can definitely still see its influence all over the city. There are tons of socialist and Sandanista murals decorating the public parks and wall-space. My favorite mural was a picture of Sandino stepping on Uncle Sam's head -- very telling.

I found a pleasant cafe selling the best licuados I've had so far. Bascially tropical fruit milkshakes. Unbelieveably tasty and refreshing. I had three. One dollar each. Actually, I think I'm gonna go get another one now.

Tomorrow I'm off to Granada.