OK, so we're on a van ride from Managua to Leon (Nicaragua) with bags of rum and coke in hand. I was already super glad to be with people I know, plus I was speaking loads of English. Honestly for three weeks I was mostly spending my days avoiding conversation at work, just because it was embarrassing to work in a real news room and not be fluent in the language. I mean, I was able to get my job done and do alright, but it was still very challenging. So when me and Seattle folk met up, I talked even more than normal. I was actually starting to lose my voice.
Anyway, the van ride was fun, and when we got to Leon we checked into our hotel. Katie is a nanny for a woman from Leon, and she gave her some money so we could spend a night in a really nice hotel, dubbed as the best in Nicaragua. All old and historic, this place was beautiful. We went in and (I think Blake and I especially, as we had been traveling for a while) were absolutely stuneed. This place was POSH. I felt excitement, unease, guilt, and most of all out of place. And I was nowhere near my dirtiest. When you are more than comfortable staying in hovels, a tent or a hammock every night, going into this place is downright awkward. After a minute, though, I was able to embrace it. We hung out in the room enjoying some music and amenities like a nice bathroom and super cooshy beds. Then we went out looking for a club. I was thankful to have Christina there because she had the Nicaragua guide book and she quickly filled the position of tour guide. I had done that far too much for myself for the last 3 months so her leadership was very welcome. On the other hand, though, I felt more helpless than usual because even after a few days I had no idea how to navigate the town.
The club we went to was one of the more popular ones in Leon, especially for the college students. I had heard Leon is very touristy, but I do not think it can hold a candle to places like Antigua or Granada. In fact we were the only foreigners in the club when we first got in. Now, since high school I have been fairly apprehensive in a club setting where I am expected to dance, but something made me feel more comfortable here. Maybe it was the good company, or knowing that to all the locals, I was just another Chele* they would never see again. So the four of us got our bearings dancing together until the girls moved on to some local guys. At some point a woman we dubbed 'teacher', due to her conservative and mature looks, in the midst of her dancing with another guy started putting her hands all over Blake and I. We didn't really know what to do when she aggressively groped my booty and put her hands in Blakes pockets. Luckily, Blake and I noticed two girls dancing together that kept eyeing us. We discussed the matter, decided they were attractive, and when an overzealous guy pressured them too hard to dance, I motioned them over. They immediately came over and we hit the floor. I got the tall one. Sweet. It was going well for the first song, probably Sean Paul or some other reggaeton, but then the DJ switched to salsa, which I barely know. I think Blake and I both felt extremely nervous. The girls were nice though and got us in the rhythm. I was sure she was unenthusiastic though because all I could do were the basic steps over and over. Quite boring I am sure. On the plus side, the general salsa skills of the other guys in the club were nowhere near what I saw in Guatemala. They knew how to move. So after a couple of uncomfortable songs, Blake and I went for another beer. The girls had seemed interested in us, so we waited for some more reggaeton. Blake went to where the girls were sitting and got super denied for another dance. Why I followed after that, I have no idea, but this girl was down for more dancing. And just my luck, it switched back to Salsa right after we were back on the floor. After a bit more of this, Katie and Christina rescued me and said we were leaving. Very bittersweet. At least there were hot dogs to eat at the plaza before heading back to our hotel.
The next morning we attacked the complimentary breakfast. It was half American half traditional. I loaded up my plate with eggs, bacon (a special treat) cheese, gallo pinto, fresh fruit, fried plantains, and probably a bunch of other stuff. I accomplished my goal of making this worth well more than one meal.
Then we returned back to our proper place in traveler society and checked into a $4/per person guesthouse. After that we headed to the beach nearby, Las Penitas. Only about a 45 minute bus ride, but being Semana Santa, we were unsurprisingly forced to stand. The beach was absolutely awesome. Strong currents, powerful waves made it perfect for body surfing. The intense sun was also welcome after most of my days in Managua were spent in stupid air conditioning. All day Blake and I played like 5 year olds in the surf, making up games like 'hit by a car', where we would let the wave crash right into us as it broke and slam us into shore, or cannonball, crouching up into a ball letting the wave toss us in circles. I can't remember the last time I laughed that much in a day. And swallowing that much sea water was no good for my waning voice. After a few hours of this we scavenged for food down at the crowded end of the beach where throngs of day trippers made the sand barely navigable. As we ate our carne asada and quesillos we caught more attention from locals than I was used to in Central America. I attribute this to being in a place not very frequented by tourists, but in reality it was the two white girls in bikinis. Most places you go, girls will get loads of attention until they are with guys. In Nicaragua, however, the men are bold, and they yelled all sorts of stuff at them. I wasn't sure what to do. The girls seemed to revel in it, but the balls to say that stuff with Blake and I right there just ticked me off. I shot many a dirty glare until I realized it didn't bother the girls and the guys weren't really going to do anything. I just could never imagine yelling 'sexy woman' at all, let alone when they are with two intimidating young bucks such as Blake and I. After the sunset we managed to catch the last bus back to Leon. Now I have thought many times that I have been on the most packed bus of my life, but this one is definitely a contender. We were crammed in the back where two seats had been removed. I got a bit nervous about the girls because we were surrounded by dozens of wasted men. There was some tension, but overall it felt fairly jovial. A few men spoke with us, but not even my Spanish was up to understanding most of the slurring. The guy behind me kept saying the same indecipherable but obviously perverted comments about Christina. I repeatedly told him to shutup but I don't think he could even hear anything he was so drunk. I forced myself between them, and Blake and I made it very apparent that these were 'our' girls. One of the less creepy (and this is relative) was actually able to have a decent conversation with us, but after trying to kiss Katie's hand and getting told off, he was extremely apologetic to Blake and I. We had fibbed that Blake and Katie were married and that Christina and I were dating. It was a fun experience, especially when all the guys cheered for me when I took a swig out of their gutrot liquor. Pretty much the whole ride was chaos, and when it was over I was not disappointed. As Christina stepped out of the back of the bus I saw a young extremely inebriated young guy deliberately reach for Christina's backside. Luckily I forcibly grabbed his arm and pushed it away. He didn't seem to notice, and right after the fact I regretted not just punching. He might have noticed that. Then we were followed for about 5 blocks by two young boys under the age of ten that repeatedly executed the same maneuvers on Katie and Christina. No amount of yelling at them would get them away. I felt ridiculous with 2 kids getting the better of me. I can't hit them and my Spanish wasn't good enough to effectively cuss them out. Maybe I need to spend more time at the soccer games to improve that aspect of my vocabulary. Either way, it makes me worried that this behavior will just get passed on for who knows how long.
That night we were pretty tired, plus we had an 11 oclock curfew at this guesthouse. So we didn't do much except ride a topless bus around the town for about half an hour.
The next morning=Easter!. We had been told mass was at 9, but when we got to the Cathedral (the biggest in Central America I might add) it seemed like people were leaving more than they were entering. 2 Things became apparent: We had missed mass, and Easter Sunday is very different than it is in the states. Basically they have a whole week to celebrate, so Sunday isn't really that much more celebrated than most of the other days. We sat in the pews for a while just taking in the beauty of the cathedral and relaxing. Eventually a young woman with a baby came and sat right in front of us and struck up a conversation. I was less than shocked when she spoke of medical bills for her baby and how expensive they were. Apparently he had been born with 3 testicles and needed to get one removed. Now anywhere other than this setting I would have reacted completely different. However, it was Easter and we were in a church and regardless of the number of testicles on her son, I was not about to send her away. She led us to a market where we bought her a large amount of a very expensive milk formula. She was appreciative, but I couldn't help but notice that this was the exact thing that I did on the other side of the world no more than 2 years ago. In India you can be expected to get all sorts of scams (like in this one the woman just goes back to the shop where the milk formula came from and sells it back for a bit less than you paid). I had witnessed almost none of this activity in Central America so this really threw me off. Either way I couldn't help but think of the bible story when the man helps the homeless guy and it's really Jesus in disguise. And even if she wasn't Jesus, and her son had the correct number of testicles, it was obvious that she was poor and not being victimized by big-business begging like in India. So in the end, I felt fine about what we did. This might have made me seem fairly cold and callous, but I think that is what India can do to you.
We hung out for a while longer in the market then noticed another church service was starting so we went. It is fun how regardless of bad acoustics and weak grasp of Spanish, a Catholic service is still pretty simple to follow if you grew up in the church.
After that it was back to the beach. On the crowded bus about 5 minutes from the beach I heard a commotion on the back of the bus and I looked back to see people trying to disperse. A fight was going on and I heard a couple girls scream, making me think, 'gun!' Luckily it was not the case, but we did see one guy lift himself up on the overhead bar and kick the guy with both feet. The whole thing lasted less than 30 seconds before people managed to shove them out the back door. I am not sure what happened, but I like to think they were able to finish their scrap right there in the street. After that the day carried on in a very similar fashion. More swimming and just enjoying the atmosphere. Just about sunset, we headed back over to catch a bus back, and as expected, it was just as crowded as the day before. Somehow, though, we were all able to score seats right in the middle. Before taking off an obsenely drunk young guy made his way next to us, and I could tell if something was going to go down, it would be him. I was relieved to see him change his mind and stand about 2/3 to the front of the bus. And it didn't take long. About ten minutes into the ride I saw a ripple of movement in front of me. Sure enough, another fight. I could not see much, but I did see a middle aged woman fall. I don't know if she was involved or just fell from all the commotion. Then I heard screams and my heart skipped a beat. Everyone was panicking, children were crying, some people were trying to see, others were ducking in case the worst happened. The bus stopped, but whoever was fighting was still on. I could sense a struggle to get at least one person off the bus, and it took a few minutes. When they were finally thrown out, the bus sped on. Then I heard a bang coming from the back of the bus and girls screamed and everyone ducked. I think it was just a heavy rock he threw at the bus. Then, I think due to traffic, the bus slowed down, followed by more girls screaming. I saw the back door briefly open. This guy was nuts. I don't really know exactly what happened, but people managed to keep him off. I do know that he tried to keep up with us for a while. When it was finally all over all the passengers seemed to just laugh it off, like, oh yeah, just another Easter at the beach. My adrenaline was raging.
On Monday we took a day trip out to San Jacinto a small town outside of Leon with one 100 yard cobblestone street and a billion excited kids. The attraction of this town was the volcanically heated mud pits. When we got off the bus we were greeted by a 10-year-old named Carlos, who offered to be our guide. We started to discuss the price when about 6 other kids came up and surrounded us. I had told him that we will pay 5 Cordoba each. At first he interpreted this to mean we would pay each children 5 Cordoba each, but I quickly cleared things up and that we only wanted one guide. So Carlos led us down the road, and about half the kids followed us. I explained again that we only wanted one guide, but they kept following. When we got to the mud pits all the kids fought for our attention, pointing at things as obvious as 'this is a mudpit, it has mud in it. It is hot'. It was cute, but I knew at the end they would all be expecting payment. I stayed close to Carlos, only listening to him. Was this wrong? Either way, the mud pits were kinda cool, but I had the impression that we might be able to soak in them. Unfortunately they are all boiling. One of the young guides scooped up a load of mud in a bag and affectionately gave it to Katie. We took turns rubbing the mud on our face as war paint and Hitler mustaches. After we got tired of the mudpits, Carlos led us to where we could buy fruit, water and a coconut popsicle thing. Then he told us he wanted to show us the rivers. So we followed him down a long dirt road lined with fruit trees. When we got to the ojocote** tree all the kids climbed high up into the trees and stuffed their pockets with the fruit. Their offerings were more than we could eat. At this point the group now consisted of Carlos, Chele (that's just what they called him because of his lighter skin), Estrella, and two other young boys. When we got to the river, they showed us a small pool above it that ran into the river. They said to only swim in the pool because the river is full of horse and cow poo. They all stripped down to their unders wear and leaped into the pool. At its deepest it was about 3 feet, and about 10 feet by 15 feet. These kids were jumping into it from about 8 feet up. I don't know how they didn't break all their legs. This ended up being one of the highlights of this part of the trip. We played with the kids in the pool for nearly two hours. We had races across the pool, lucha libre matches, the kids found us dozens of rocks to take home as memories and sometimes they just dragged us around the pool by our legs yelling 'coche coche coche!' (car). To me it seemed more like 'rickshaw, rickshaw, rickshaw!' but I don't think they would have understood. When we finally tired of the pool, Carlos decided to take us to 'where they bathe in the river' I didn't really know what this meant, but we followed. He led us down the horse poo river and when we came across a hornets nest on the side of the river. Well, being kids we had to throw rocks at it. After about 5 minutes I nailed it right in the middle and we all turned and sprinted. I was running so fast I didn't notice that I had cut my foot on a rock in horse poo river. And what do you know, now it's kinda infected. The bathing spot was where two pipes, diverting water from somewhere, poured into the river. Young men and teenagers of the town were coming out here to bathe their horses and themselves. And the two white girls bathing with the kids was quite the sight for them. The kids really loved us, but the horse guys just seemed kind of annoyed to share their cleaning area with some tourists. Except for the girls being there, they didn't seem to mind that. The best part of the day though was when we headed out of town to catch the bus and we paid Carlos double what we had agreed upon because he ran immediately to the store and bought an ice cream. It made me glad that he and his family did not have to rely solely on the occasional tourist passing through and for Carlos it seemed more like a fun way to have fun with foreigners and get some pocket change. We also gave the other kids enough to go buy an ice cream, though only two of them did. They all waited at the bus stop with us until it came. Christina gave her journal to the kids to draw or write something. The best was Carlos'. He drew a horse pooping. One of the other kids struggled to sound out the one word he knew in English, hello. I think it came out Alo. Or something like that.
Oh, and real quick. Two highlights of our time in Leon were Katie thinking that all the cheese we were eating came from pig milk, and also messing with Christina and Katie's lack of Spanish skills. I explained to them that because their Spanish is not that good, that they should apologize and tell them that they are embarrassed for their Spanish. What they didn't know is that saying 'estoy embarazada' does not mean I am embarrassed, as you might think. It means 'I am pregnant.' The first time we got them was trying to buy water from a corner store. When they fumbled over the words, I told them to apologize and tell them you are embarrassed. And basically in unison they smiled and said 'I am pregnant' for no apparent reason to the women, who looked confused and in shock. The girls noticed that I couldn't contain my laughter and asked why. I covered by saying that they had said 'embarazado' meaning they are an embarrassed man not woman. This was not true, but nice save Joey. The second time we got them was on the bus ride back from the beach when one of the creepy guys on the bus home was trying to chat with her. Her telling him that she was pregnant seemed to have very little effect on his interest in here.
*Chele is the Nicaraguan slang for light-skinned people, the equivalent of 'guero' in Mexico. It comes from switching the 'ch' and 'l' in the word 'leche' meaning milk.
**Ojocote is the size of a giant grape, and when ripe tastes like a peach, but before ripe is like an apple.
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