The Journey, Part One

Will try to update on the past few days. Here’s a disclaimer for Martin: its going to be long, so deal with it or just have Frida summarize.

(Tues 8 August 2006)
Dan drove Rob and me up to Chicago in Barb and Bruce’s minivan. We met the other cousins, Scott and Kevin, for dinner at a place called The Blind Faith Café—a 100% vegetarian restaurant. It was so good; I’ve never been to a place where I can eat (and want to eat!) everything on the menu.

(Weds 9 August 2006)
The next morning we had to get to the airport 2 hours ahead of our 5:30am flight. It seemed a bit ridiculous to be there that early, but when we showed up around 3:30am, there was already a line. The Delta representatives didn’t even show up until 4am, but by that time, there was a really long line behind us. Check in was no problem; the guy at the ticket counter was quite chatty. He said he goes to Nicaragua twice a year, for about the last 15 years. He’s spent some time on Ometepe and even knows some of the same places (San Ramon waterfall, petroglyphs, etc).

By the time we got all checked in and screened, we went straight to the gate and started boarding. Flew to Atlanta and then transferred to another plane. Had a super lunch on the plane—a vegetarian meal that included fresh salad, yum! Got to Nicaragua about 12:20pm local time (same as it is back home). After we got through customs and immigration, all our luggage was ready at the baggage claim. I breathed a big sigh of relief when I saw the TT safely on the turn-style. I didn’t even have time to worry whether or not our drive would be there. Amid the hundreds of people crowded up against the glass, I saw a guy right up front holding a sign with our names on it. He pulled up the car, loaded the luggage, and we were off to Granada by 1pm.

So, this is the third time I’ve been to Nicaragua. The first time, it was all new and exciting; the second time, when I went by myself, Pablo told me: “Melissa, when you get to Nicaragua, it will be like coming home.” That second time there were tons of problems and it didn’t feel welcoming at all. But this time, it really did feel like I was coming home. I looked out the window the whole ride, drinking in the sights: green, green landscape, horses and cows walking along the road, guys riding bikes and carrying giant bags of rice or propane tanks or 3 of their children.

We arrived in Granada about an hour later. They driver didn’t actually know where Hotel Kekoldi was; he didn’t work for the hotel, he was an airport taxi driver that the hotel had hired for me. We drove around for quite a while, asking people for directions, until finally I found my confirmation email from the hotel that had the address (mind you, there were no street numbers or anything) and directions (3.5 blocks west of the park).

The hotel was really really nice. My first impression was that it smelled really good—I don’t know if that was something they used for cleaning or if it was some of the many flowers all over the place. The staff all spoke English too, and they were so helpful with everything. As soon as we arrived, Rob and I were so exhausted that we fell into a deep comatose sleep for about 2 hours. When I woke up, I was more dehydrated than that time I ran a half marathon in the summertime without drinking any water. I went to the front desk to buy some bottles of water (its probably safe to drink from the tap, but then again, I didn’t want to find out). I was trying to figure out how to pay for the water (whether they wanted cordobas or dollars), and the girl at the desk said they would just put it on my tab and I would pay at check out. She handed me 2 bottles of water without writing anything down and went back to her work. I said, “Okay, I’m in room number 6.” She smiled sweetly at me and said, “Melissa, its okay, don’t worry.” So even the Nicaraguans are telling me to stop freaking out.

Semi-rehydrated, Rob and I left to walk around Granada. I had a vague rememberance of where the ATM was, and somehow we got to it and got some cordobas. Then we went into a place called Ciber Café and emailed our parents to let them know we arrived. It was so cheap—only 5 cordobas, which is like 20 cents.

We walked through the Parque Central and then on to the dock to look out at Lake Nicaragua. We passed some ladies selling fruit and I bought a coconut for 8 cordobas (less than 50 cents). Coconut water is supposed to be the best thing for rehydrating, so even though I really don’t like its taste, I drank as much as I could handle. When I just couldn’t take coconut water anymore, I began to wonder what to do with the gigantic, heavy coconut I was holding. I hadn’t seen any trash cans anywhere. Just then, a little girl ran up to me, arms outstreatched, saying something I didn’t understand. “Quieres eso coco?” I asked and she said, “Si, si,” nodding emphatically. So I handed her the coconut and she drank right out of my straw as she ran away. Problem solved.



We stopped at a hostel/restaurant called The Bearded Monkey for a dinner of vegetarian chili, then went back to our hotel to arrange for a driver to come pick us up in the morning and take us to San Jorge. I took my last hot shower for the foreseeable future. It was a rich, full day.