Nicaragua: The Bridge on the Green Lagoon

The Charco Verde Hotel, where I was staying, is on the edge of a biological reserve. My favorite walk there was the short one along the path in front of my room to a place called the Green Lagoon, in English. This is the charco verde, which can also be translated as the Green Puddle.

Benches by the water, herons parading by, the island blue jay, screeching above me, it made a perfect place to write in my journal, read a book, or just sit for a while.

A left turn when I reached the lagoon took me past the local compost center, a series of mounds covered in palm branches, with a sign explaining how to compost. At least, that's what I think it was. My Spanish really isn't up to the compost technique level.

Continuing on that path took me the whole way around the lagoon. Eventually I reached a spot that had stopped me cold when I tried the loop in the other direction.

The obstacle was a bridge over the creek that fed from the lagoon into the lake. It was not in good shape, and had been made by resting two rails on rocks at either end, then nailing half-sawed logs to the rails, round side up, with the bark still on. Not only was the first step too high for me to manage, there were no hand rails. The water underneath looked murky and green and of an indeterminate depth. I had turned back.

Now I looked at it from the other side. I managed to get up onto the bridge, but I really didn't like that rounded surface, and got back down. The fisherman who had left his spot and his net to help me looked puzzled. When I looked at the water, I realized why. Today it was crystal clear, and about an inch deep.












With a big grin, I waded across. He laughed and returned to his net. I continued on the looping path. Soon he caught up and passed me, raising his catch so I could admire it. "Por comer!" He had his dinner.

Nicaragua: Charco Verde, Omotepe

Black sand beach, green lagoon, monkeys, and jungle trails. For ten days I stayed in Charrco Verde, getting in some beach time, taking some walks, reading, and playing on the internet.

Charco Verde is a small bay on the island of Omotepe, in the middle of Lake Managua. Hot black sand makes up the beaches. The island was created by two volcanos whose lava flows eventually met, and where they met the gradually eroding lava formed beaches.

When I arrived, I took the first room I found, thinking that the next morning I would look for something cheaper than $10 per night. So my first day included a stroll down the beach path.












The local laundry area was constructed from stone tables set out in the water, where clothes were being soaped, scrubbed, rinsed, and spread to dry. Women washing their hair and their children looked up as I ducked under a low-lying branch and stopped to take a picture of the volcano and the fields.










While my search for a room involved a very nice walk, it didn't net any bargains. In fact, the cheaper, backpacker oriented place wanted more for a room than I was paying. So I stayed where I was, lazing away the days.

Nicaragua: The Laptop and the Bus

The conductor on the old school bus insisted on taking my day pack after he had stowed my big pack in the back. He literally grabbed it out of my arms. I told him, I think, that my computer was in it, and that I wanted it with me. No luck. So instead of enjoying the countryside and volcano views, I worried the whole way to the Charco Verde drop off. A couple of travelers from the Czech Republic who spoke good Spanish explained my concerns to him, shrugged, and told me he said it would be OK.

Since it was out of my sight and my control, my imagination went wild. I had visions of it being used as a seat for some portion of the trip or being casually casually tossed out by a passenger. The Czech couple obviously thought I was overly concerned. “It’s my first time traveling with it, and I’m still a bit protective.”

When I got off by the side of the road, there it was. The pack showed no signs of abuse, so my worries diminished a little. When I finally booted up and signed on to the Charco Verde Lodge’s wi-fi, my muscles relaxed and I realized I had been tensing them the whole time.

I have to get over this, or I’ll be a wreck within a year. No comments from the peanut gallery, please.

Traveling with a laptop has been fine for the most part. I love looking at my photos for as long as I want, looking up information on the internet, making blog posts, and playing the simple games I like, and staying on as long as I want without having to worry about the money. I don’t even mind the weight much. I don’t like the worry, though. Maybe I’ll adjust.

Nicaragua: Omotepe - Altagracia

At midnight Friday, after ten hours on a very boring, and very cold and somewhat blustery ferry ride, I arrived on the island of Omotepe, and got on the last van to town. It pulled up in front of the hotel I had chosen, a man immediately appeared out of the dark, and a few minutes later I was in a room with a private bath. $8 per night, but I deserved it. I was to find I thought I deserved a lot while on Omotepe.

The ferry left at 2pm, and air-con was a nice thing to have. After the sun set, however, the cold air kept coming, and the cabin got colder and colder. This is common in a lot of tropical countries. If you paid for air-conditioning, you will get air-conditioning, no matter how much you hate it.

I spent part of the evening standing on the rear deck, where it was moderately warmer. The ferry company had locked my pack in an on-deck locker, and I couldn't get to it to dig out a sweater. At least I had kept out a long-sleeved T-shirt. A woman in a spaghetti strap top and shorts looked as if she would soon die.

Because they were showing movies, there were no lights in the cabin and I couldn't read. I swear, if I see that movie with The Rock, the one where he goes to Brazil to rescue the rich man's son, one more time I'll scream. It's funny that I can never remember the title. I'm blocking it, I guess. That Andie MacDowell movie with Gerard Depardieu movie, Green Card. I've seen it about 20 times. But I do know its name, at least.












In Altagracia, I once again exercised my talent for just hanging out. There was a small museum, and there were some ancient stone statues in the yard of the church. The town had the standard old houses, in faded bright colors, worn wood, and a small book exchange.

Nicaragua: El Castillo

Three hours on a boat to get there, and about the same to get back. Enough time to visit a fort, walk around town a bit, and have lunch. Sounds like a bad day trip, doesn't it? Wrong. Of course, it would have been nicer to stay overnight, but the day trip to the tiny town of El Castillo was great. Especially since I remembered not to dip my fingers in the water and tempt the river sharks.

El Castillo is located on the south side of the San Juan river, in the little band of land that is in Nicaragua. Further down, the river becomes the border, but it is still all in Nicaragua. Costa Rica starts on the bank.

Going down the river, we zigzagged back and forth, dropping off and picking up passengers and cargo at unexpected spots. People got off in the middle of a field, or the boat pulled up to a small clearing in what appeared to be jungle to take on a few passengers. We even called at a fancy resort.

At one point we stopped at field with nothing but a red flag flying on a five foot pole. Men from the boat leaped ashore, picked up a bundle of long bamboo poles, lashed them to the roof, and we motored off again. A little later, a boat pulled alongside and a couple of passengers transfered to our boat. A connection? Had they missed us at one of our frequent stops and hired a sort of taxi to catch up? I'll never know.

The passengers watched the river, pointing things out to each other. My seatmate slept most of the trip, but when he was awake he would gesture for me to look up at a soaring bird, or to the other side of the boat, where a caiman was swimming.

The town of El Castillo was founded around a Spanish fort (El Castillo), set at a bend in the river. It was captured by the British at one point, by a force that included Admiral Nelson, although he was only a lieutenant then.

I walked up to the fort, a bit worried because it was 11:45, it closed for lunch from 12:00 to 1:30, and the return boat was leaving at 2:00. The woman at the gate took me to her office and collected my $2, took a picture of me, and told me to take as long as I wanted. A half hour later, her office was locked and I found her sitting on the steps leading out of the fortf, waiting for me, as long as it was going to take. We walked down the hill together, agreeing that El Castillo was 'muy tranquillo' and 'muy bonita'.

After finding a restaurant overlooking the water that was open, and scaring up a waitress, the only thing left was to explore El Castillo's main, and nearly only, street. Most of the visitors were there to fish, or to visit a nearby national park. Then suddenly it was 1:50 and I had to pick up the pace a little to make sure I made the boat back.