Aug 2007

The city of Granada, situated at the western end of one of the biggest lakes

in the world, is firmly on the tourist trail and the quality of the buildings represent this

, with everything being a lot more preserved than in Leon; and even the quality of the hostels being some of the nicest so far. The lake itself isn´t that nice a spectacle from this side as most of the cities rubbish ends up in it, even though you are safe from the bull sharks that live in the eastern area; although with a cruise round the islets formed from the local volcano erupting a few hundred years ago

you see another side of Nica where the rich families have their holiday homes on one of the hundreds of tiny islands and employ crazed attack monkeys

to guard things whilst they are out of town.
You could try swimming in the pool at Hostel Oasis but as most people come out with chlorine burns from the overzealous cleanliness, a nicer trip is 1/2 hour out of town to the beautiful little crater lake of Lago Apoya,

(a perfect venue for a wakeboard camp although the locals might not appreciate it) for some swimming and kayaking in the lake.
Further on from the lake is the market town of Masaya, where you can buy pretty much everything from stuffed alligators

to the colourful hammocks that Nicaragua is famous for

although finding the post office to try and send anything home takes a couple of days as even the locals don´t even really know where it is.

SJDS
The usual spiel of "there is no bus to .... today you have to get on ours instead" is getting a little tiresome, but something you have to live with in these areas. However arriving in the surf town on San Juan del Sur soon makes you forget all the hastles involved in getting here.
The town itself is nestled between two hills on a palm fringed half-moon beach, much as I would imagine Brazil to be, and generally brings in perfect offshore conditions 360 days a year although as always happens with these things the wind had switched to onshore and the usual chat of "you should of been here yesterday" is common around town. Due to the natural beauty of the place,

and the low land prices, the investment coming in to the town now that the country has gained a modicum of stability is evident all over with new developments springing up all over town; and sadly this place might become another Costa Rica with floods of American tourism and investment over the next few years, so its worth coming to now while you can.
Although one good thing about the money is the beautiful 5* resort in the hills overlooking the bay, where on Mondays and Wednesdays its worth a trip up to for the 2-for-1 cocktail nights to see the sunset from a different angle, and to lounge in their infinity pool if you can sneak past the guards... which turned out to be quite a regular thing when the whole crew eventually rocked into town.

There are a multitude of surf breaks around town,

both accessible via dirt track and others where a boat in is the only option, although they are better left to the pros. And when the wind turned back to the right direction and the swell came in the reason for SJDS´s fame soon became evident with some great surf just north of town at Playa Madiras where you can stay in one of the surf camps right on the beach.

Confidence was high when playing on the fish in the smaller break so when a lull in the swell came in it was time to paddle out to where the big boys were hanging out at the back. Big mistake. When the set rolled in again the realisation of just how big the waves were became evident, as even the 7ft tall americandutch was getting standing barrels, and after a failed take off it soon became a fight for survival as I struggled to breath air not water on my rapid return to the beach. Then just when things weren´t bad enough already I managed to find a rather unfriendly stingray under my foot (okay I guess it wasn´t his fault) who proceeded to leave quite a good hole in my leg and me in agony for 12 hours (yes it really does f*cking hurt, and no, pissing on it doesn´t work). Oh well, chicks dig scars and I am certainly a but luckier than that fool Irvin, although the boys did offer to go on a killing spree in the same way the Auzies have after losing their hero.

One of the best ways to see the local area is to hire one of the insane quad bikes they have around town, proper sporty numbers not like the work horse that they had on the Bay Islands, and an amazing way to explore the local coves and the hill over looking town if you can´t be bothered to climb.

Although being on the back of one when an crazy Icelandic is driving

is asking for trouble, but a great guy to have around when they run out of petrol.

MANAGUA
Leaving the pacific coast to jump over to the Caribbean means a stop in the capital Managua to get the connections out the next day, generally a thing to be avoided in central America (although I did manage to sit next to my first chicken in the last 4 months taking chicken buses!). The shere poverty in this city is evident as soon as you enter with people scraping the chicken scraps off your plate to take home to their family when you have finished eating, and giant plastic tent cities for the displaced people in most of the public parks; and as always the hostels are localed in the less salubrious areas of the city where we actually had our own private security guard to take us out to dinner/ drinks whenever we wanted to leave the hostel at night. Although popping out to the mall for a bit of retail therapy the distinction between the classes seems incredible, as it is stocked with Armani suits and giant plasma TV´s, something is going wrong here somehow...

The change going in to Nicaragua (the poorest country in Central America, and also in the world) was drastic, with children banging the windows of the the bus on the way out of the border station begging for anything they could get;

but despite that the decoration of the houses and the surrounding scenery make a pleasant change from the drab Honduran apathy and a necessary distraction from the dirt track we seem to be travelling down at 80kmh on our way to Leon.

Arriving in Leon, the first decent sized town for a few months, the old Spanish influence is really visible in the cobbled streets and beautiful colonial buildings.

This is the town where the revolution started many years ago, overthrownin the sandinista government, but despite the massive significance of the event the only recording of it is a small one room ´museum´ with a few faded newspaper cuttings. Walking round the town is a pleasant stroll away from the touristy towns of the last few months with the obligatory churches and even a beautiful cemetery

where the tombs themselves are works of 18th century classical art; and up to the hill for views over town past the ´recycling plant´ which still relies primarily on fire.
Just outside the city is the old capital of Nicaragua Leon Viejo, which according to design principles of the time was built alarmingly close to a rather volcano-looking hill and so to their surprise they had to abandon the city when their hill started smoking,

and the control of power then eventually went to Managua.

Due to the availability of volcanoes in the area, one enterprising Australian hostel owner decided to make a living out of sending tourist flying down on various contraptions, and thus a trip to Volcan Cerro Negro (the Black Volcano) is a must for any visit here. For those of you that spend far too much time on youtube, this is the same place where the world downhill mountain bike record was set just before the guys forks snap sending him face first into the mountainside.

Even just the walk up the hill is worth all the money, with the startling contrast between the black lava rock and and green trees emphasising the stunning scenery spreading out below you.

Arriving at the top of the hill, and according to Nicaraguan health and safety principles, you get to run down into the crater of an active volcano amidst all the beautifully coloured volcanic rock,

only to realise that at the bottom the reason the rocks are that colour is because of all the sulphur being released before the frantic scramble back up the scree slope before you suffocate!
Luckily the boards have been refined from the original designs of table tops, fridges and snowboards; but still it is little more than a plank of wood with a couple of blocks nailed on the top to give you the allusion of a seat.
Getting kitted up at the top in orange jump suits that made you look like a cross between the Beastie Boys and some escaped convicts

, you are given a safety talk which pretty much consists of ´try not to crash, it hurts´ whilst hypocritically offering rewards for the first blood of the day.

And even though you don´t get to stand up and ride like a snowboard any more (believe me you don´t want to) after a practice slide down the baby slope even the most confident looking people are a little dubious.

The run down is over in less than 30 seconds if you´re doing well, but due to the lack of control the boards have it is nigh on impossible to keep them going in a straight line and some pretty serious crashes occur

and I still have some lava embedded in my head as a souvenir. Everyone is hyped at the bottom and raring to go up again, but the boards are pretty much one use only due to the caustic nature of the rock, so we jump back in the ute for the trip back through the feral forest

where children run and scream at you like they have never seen a white person before.

The quality of local music and food has certainly increased massively so we treat ourselves to a 5 course dinner in the poshest restaurant in town for $10 (despite the scathing looks of the upper class locals with 6 scruffy travellers being amazed with real cloth napkins) before checking out some of the live salsa music the town has on offer every night of the week.