Shark Bytes

Nicaragua has been reminiscent of Guatemala, in that we have raced through it at break-neck speed. That said, we have just spent our last day in a more relaxed manner here in the colonial city of Granada, feeling a bit outdone by volcanoes and cultural exploits (well, we did still climb a church bell tower today, but relaxing in hammocks took precedence over most other activities).
So, instead of throwing on our hiking boots for one last time, we have 1) visited Kathy´s Waffle House for breakfast, 2) wandered around the Central Park soaking in the atmosphere, and 3) treated ourselves to massages from the blind for only $3 (we tipped well). Quite painful after a month of lugging around a backpack that could quite plausibly be hiding a small goat, but no pain, no gain, hey?

So, to back-track a little:
After our stay in León, we had to chicken bus it to Granada, via Managua. We thought this would be a relatively straightforward journey involving a single change at the main bus terminal in Managua (not the most inviting of places, from what we'd heard, but we thought we could take it.) Driving through the suburbs of Managua, our bus driver started shouting at us to disembark; from his thick, slurred speech we managed to identify what sounded like "La Uca"; before we had time to clarify, we'd been dumped at the nearest dusty bus stop. During this "dumping off" procedure- which translated to being physically pushed out the back exit- a woman looked at us fearfully uttering the words, "They'll take your stuff, be careful!!!"
Which obviously instilled us with great confidence.

Feeling really rather uncertain about our destination, we clutched onto our belongings with a talon-like hold and asked the next bus driver passing if he would be going via Granada. The answer was a bold NO, and we were again left standing in dust and fumes as he drove off into the distance, wondering how we could possibly have offended him. We had another attempt when the next bus approached, and a local helpfully pointed out that by taking this one to "La Uca" (things started making sense finally) we'd then be able to catch another to Granada. Ok. So we were off, crammed onto a bus again, and still clutching onto our belongings. That's when we drove through a police raid, with two men forced up against the wall amidst a commotion and a bustling crowd of spectators. As you do. Call me a wuss, but watching from the bus window was close enough to the action for me.

Eventually, we arrived in Granada. Anna and I quickly arranged our activities for the next day, aware that we were short of time. We opted for a more alternative (and way cooler) way of seeing the surrounding terrain: ziplining. Since we haven´t careened to our deaths and returned from this activity almost entirely unscathed, I feel I can talk about it quite happily (note to parents- you might want to skip the photo album). We soared through the forest canopy doing tricks like "Superwoman" and "Upside-down", which I will let you judge for yourself based on the pictures (we both felt they were slightly suggestive positions to be undertaking, but maybe we´re just dirty minded). It was terrifying and thrilling, but mostly terrifying. We also got to do "bouncy bouncy" at the end (our guide pinged the cable up and down as we slid along it), which was both amusing to make our Spanish-speaking guide say repetitively, and also a bit too close for comfort as we approached the end of the cable and I came within centimetres of either smacking my lower half heavily on the ground, or crushing my upper half into the cable. BUT, that didn't happen, so it was all perfectly good, safe fun.

Zip-lining, superwoman style.

In the afternoon, we took a trip to Laguna de Apoyo, a really beautiful lake that was formed from a volcanic eruption, resulting in a crater that then filled with water. Unfortunately it started to rain a little after we arrived, meaning we couldn´t go kayaking as planned, but we befriended the Nicaraguan bartender and he gave us a free seminar on Nicaraguan and Central American history (in Spanish, of course), which was very interesting and obviously also great practice for Anna The Linguist Extraordinaire.

The next day, feeling a little sleepy following a rather lively karaoke session, we jumped on a chicken bus to Rivas, then taxied to San Jorge and took the ferry over to la Isla de Ometepe. FYI, I feel I should clarify this term "chicken bus": think old, imaginatively painted American school buses, kindly shipped over when no longer considered safe for American roads, often playing loud music and always providing a hair-raising but entertaining experience, and which I prefer to refer to as party buses. So anyway, Ometepe. This is an island with 2 volcanoes, Concepción and Maderas, joined by an isthmus. Due to bad weather (and also a general lack of infrastructure and monetary influx, I'm supposing), many of the roads were inaccessible across parts of the island, restricting us on where we could go. We also drove along a lengthy stretch (most of the journey, to be honest) which entirely lacked a road, or was in very bad condition. "A bumpy ride" would be an understatement. I really thought I might have internal bleeding by the end of it...but maybe I'm just paranoid.

After settling into our hostel (in the middle of nowhere; we also happened to be the only guests), we visited Ojo de Agua, the natural springs said to have healing properties, and also quite a lengthy walk from our hostel. Not particularly enjoyable if suffering from a stomach bug, as was I. But we had a nice, if brief, swim (anticipating nightfall) and actually managed to flag down a chicken bus to take us home (never have I been happier to see a school bus). The next morning, we headed off on an early hike with our guide Hector, up to El Mirador ("The Viewpoint") on Maderas volcano. It started off as quite a relaxed and enjoyable hike, but soon we were thwarted by slippery mud, sharp rocks, streams, narrow paths, ants, ants and more ants, and a sharp incline to contend with. Joy. It was pretty easy, if you're ripped like me. OK, fine, maybe it was friggin' strenuous. We were very glad to make it to the viewpoint and find that there were some benches made out of tree branches for us to rest on. We only spent a short while at the top before attempting the steep, slipperly slope down... This was interesting. Let's just say we got down a lot faster than we made it up there.

Back in Granada, we decided we were much in need of relaxation and civilization, so we (somewhat shamefully) hit the American sports bar for some home comforts and... the US Open, for Rafa's match (surprise, surprise, we are still in touch with the tennis world out here). This was an excellent decision. Do not attempt to argue otherwise.

So that brings me to today, our last day in Central America! We will be rising at 3am tomorrow to get to Managua airport. Managua's a lovely place to visit at 4 in the morning, I've heard, especially after an undoubtedly rowdy Saturday night in the capital. Hmm. I´ll make sure my car door is locked firmly shut.

Hope you´ve enjoyed following our travels

Here are some of the things I'll remember most:

-Cramming upwards of 5 people, plus luggage, into a taxi, often with said luggage strapped to the back of the car in some (unsubstantial) way or another, and the rest of us piled on top of each other, feet usually sticking out the window or in someone else´s mouth/ear.

-Matt, Nick and Huw (but mostly Matt) being hit on by two gay Nicaraguans in a bar; stroking, touching, and close contact occurred but was not reciprocated, causing a jealous outburst to occur, mutterings of "I want to kidnap and rob your friend" and "Oh, he´s Welsh, that´s why he hasn´t come out yet" and an attempted face-rape; a quick exit followed.

-"Hello ladies", "Kiss me please", "Mi vida/novia/rubia/guapa", and one man actually kissing his hands and rubbing them across my neck as we walked past- EW, talk about gross... can´t wait for this to come to an end.

-Crazy Chris, a literally CRAZY German guy who we briefly hung out with, and who was compelled to pump his arms above his head every time he mentioned "party" (said a la Arnie), and who could only communicate through recounting tales involving crack/mushrooms/supplying Aussies with drugs/partying for 8 days in a row (his record, by the way, guys)/someone foaming at the mouth and convulsing in a Starbucks the next day ("It was craazy, but so cool, man, like in a Starbucks!"). Err...sure.

The gringas,
Ali & Anna

Nicaragua. What a beautiful place. We couldn't have had any better introduction than hiking the active volcano, Cerro Negro, and then throwing ourselves down it at a 40 degree angle on sandboards like we did this morning. Cerro Negro is rare in that it has 3 different types of volcanic activity, spewing sand, ash, and lava. Always comforting to hear that there are not one, but three potential ways in which this powerful geological creation could take us down. The most recent eruption was in 1999 -something we only found out once we had set off on our hike- but there is an activity monitoring station at the top and we were assured we were safe... Our guide also failed to mention the 3 different types of snake that inhabit the area (boa constrictor, rattle, and the coral snake) until we were well into the climb, which Anna didn't take to hearing very well!

I'm actually standing in front of a greenscreen.

The dried black lava blanketing the volcano makes a stark constrast against the lush greenery of the surrounding mountains and land. We explored the edges of the old and the young crater (too hot and steep to go inside), and got thoroughly intoxicated by the sulphurous gases spewing from the ground..!

On the edge of the crater.

Breathing in sulphurous fumes...nice.

At the top, we geared up in green and yellow boiler suits, knee, wrist and elbow pads, and particularly attractive eye goggles, then jumped on our boards and took off down the slope, to varying degrees of success. Both of us girls managed to stay on a pick up a good pace, while the 4 other guys crashed and burned their way down the mountain. I think we know who won.

When we got back to the lodge, our guide showed us two of the snakes he'd mentioned, each with live prey in their cage (a chicken and a mouse)- pretty horrifying to see, and hear, so we tried to avoid spending too much time around their cages and instead went to look at the funky green lizards which they are raising in captivity due to their endangered status. Much better.

Geared up and ready to board!

On the way down!

The journey to and from the national park was an experience too- driving across a bumpy dirt track through the countryside, passing oxen dragging firewood, sad-looking horses, some with rickety carriages attached, and small houses amongst the woods with locals chopping wood and children observing us from the roadside. Unbelievably, we also found out that our guide had lived on Hilton Head for 9 years, about 10 minutes away from my house there! He came back home to Nicaragua a year ago and trained to be a local guide in Leon- such a small world!

In the afternoon, we explored the city, climbing the Cathedral which had interesting domes and staircases across it's upper exterior, and visiting the market (I bought myself a quality "Nansport" backpack). We'd hoped to visit the Ruben Dario museum so Anna could boff up on her course for next year, but unfortunately it was closed... So we took a picture outside of it instead. That counts, right?

What a week! Top 5 experiences in Honduras:

1. Swimming with a whale shark! Absolutely amazing, something that I've been hoping to do for years, so you can imagine my excitement when it actually happened. And this thing was big, 36 feet or so. I swallowed about a gallon of sea water!

2. Swimming with pilot whales! Yes, I am going to keep bragging about all of these underwater adventures, because we had an awesome week on the dive boat. The pilot whales were accompanied by a huge pod of dolphins, couldn't get any better really.

3. Anna getting her PADI Open Water! Great achievement, especially for the girl afraid of fish. Even cooler than this was going diving with her on our last day. Laughing under water can be slightly problematic though.

4. The vomit comet (ferry) to Utila. The whole front bench was sick, while Anna hung off the back of the boat staring at the horizon and singing to herself/willing herself not to hurl. Meanwhile, I was getting excited at the sighting of a lady wearing a Salty Dog Cafe t-shirt (famed cafe near my house in SC).

5. Bus journey: La Ceiba-San Pedro Sula-Tegucigalpa, overnight in Teguc and on to Leon, Nicaragua
Great way to see the country; also pretty eye-opening. Rain had caused flash floods along the roadside, houses were swimming in water, rivers were flowing at a scarily rapid pace. At town crossroads, children cleaned stationary cars' windscreens, making about 2 lempiras for each service (about 1 cent). We passed a house with "se vende 3,776 lempiras" painted on it- a house for sale for less than $200. Poverty is a very real thing out here. We approached Tegucigalpa in the dark, driving along temporary roads with large bits of fallen rock scattered across them, from the shelves of deforested land above. Driving through the edges of the city, not a window was without iron bars and hatches, and everything looked terribly run down. We pulled into a lowly lit carpark behind a building block, apparently our destination. Unnerving, considering all we had heard about, and now glimpsed of, the Honduran capital. As girls, we took the safe option and got a taxi to a more secure hotel, leaving our male travel companions to find a hostel in which to spend the night!

Arriving early the next day at our bus terminal, the place really didn't look open- blue bars rising from the sidewalk to the roof, no lights, no sign of anyone around. Our taxi driver shouted something through the gate, and confirmed that the bus was operating- clearly this place just employed high security measures. We made it to the Nicaraguan border pretty seamlessly, actually, apart from hanging around cluelessly at two different immigration stops for a while. Because that doesn't draw attention to yourself. Our bus played a film, and after that we were treated to some classic 80s music videos- I woke up from a doze thinking I had been dreaming Bonnie Tyler and Bryan Adams, but no, they were an actual reality. This improved my journey 50-fold. The locals on the bus seemed to be loving it too; Anna seemed less impressed. One awkward moment arose when a passenger made a speech and started begging for money to help him pay the border tax, but apart from that, we had a pretty easy ride, not quite on par with a chicken bus crossing... which our companions kept longing for, especially when the air conditioning broke in our first bus and they began to imagine the party bus they could instead be sweating on, pumping out music, with animals and babies piled in farm-style, and Pierce Brosnan sunbathing naked on the roof (three movies and a Honduran TV commercial have featured him; he's a local legend. Therefore, we conclude that he must have a second residence here and primarily rides around naked on buses, obviously.) But we'll save that for another day.

We're now in Leon, Nicaragua. Tomorrow we plan to sandboard our way down a volcano (after hiking up it, of course), and will probably head on to Granada on Tuesday. We've reached our last week- bring on the final countdown!

It's quite a shock to the system to actually be traveling again. It's very easy to get lulled into a hallucinogenic* state on Caye Caulker, where reggae tunes are pumped out more consistently that running water, and everything flows along on island time ("wheneva you want, man"). We think we have now reached saturation point for reggae, having spent 3 days with a very lively crew sailing us down the Belizean coast, who put more focus into busting out their best moves than steering us in the right direction (abrupt handbrake turns occasionally featured).

The locals seem to have an obsession with riddles here, and when they weren't dancing around the boat or reeling in barracuda, they were putting us through torture trying to solve the bloody things, which usually left us all feeling like imbeciles. And then there was the classic line they liked to ask, usually timed around 6am, when you're a bit hungover and just not ready to face the world yet: "Ali, why you cryin'?" Grumble. I'm not crying, but you'll be, after I sock you one for asking me that one more time. No, it's not as bad as I make out. We had an awesome time, camping on 2 very small islands (literally 5 palm trees and a dog on the first night), snorkelling (we saw a Manatee!) and relaxing in the sun on the top deck (despite hourly reapplications of sunscreen on Day 1, my stomach was left an impressive shade of crimson and is still feels like a furnace, 4 days later). And drinking rum. Dark rum, light rum, coconut rum, extra strong rum. Please, nobody give me any more rum for a while. Thank you.

Our sailing trip took us to Placencia, a strange, sprawling little place, connected by one road and one sidewalk, running parallel to one another. Fortunately, our stay was short-lived, as we were departing on the once-weekly boat to Honduras the next morning.

We arrived at the port at 8am, not really knowing what time the boat would set off, seemingly just like everyone else we had asked, locals included. At about 9.45am we set off on the "2 hour journey", only to stop 5 minutes later at another port, where we then spent the said duration of the trip waiting while they fussed around with passports and passengers in a highly organized manner for Central America (i.e. chaos). I sat there thinking, I'm pretty sure we're not in Honduras yet... But we're getting better at being patient with these kinds of things, and realizing that when traveling, it's just plain silly to make concrete plans. So we're winging it, and getting by.

Eventually we took off, arriving at Puerto Cortes, where we were again stripped of our passports, hassled by locals for all manner of services (money exchange, taxis, accommodation, snacks) and then bundled into a taxi to be driven to "Immigration", a good 10 minutes down the road.

Ok, we've made it to Honduras. Good. But we're devoid of our passports. Interesting. Let's just hope that we aren't secretly being married off to Honduran men in the meantime.

I should also add that Anna, plus Anna's 25lb backpack, were riding along uncomfortably in the front seat during this run-around, because obviously you can't fit 5 travelers into a taxi for 4 people, along with all their luggage, now can you? After some effort, we managed to convince the taxi driver that it really wasn't realistic to spend an hour and a half wedged into a seat with your life's possessions squeezing the life out of you from above, and sent Anna's bag off in a separate taxi heading in the same direction, to the bus terminal at San Pedro Sula. An odd decision, you may think, but it made sense, especially when you've seen how they drive here. Then again, I think a giant backpack could have come in handy to shield our eyes when we had that ridiculously near-miss.

By about 11pm, we had chicken bussed it to a place called La Ceiba, where we spent the night and then got up early this morning to get the water ferry to Utila, one of the Bay Islands. And here we are! And now for the HUGE news: ANNA IS DOING HER PADI OPEN WATER diving course! (This is the girl that's terrified of fish, I should note.) It really is something to marvel at...so I will be down there harassing and distracting her with my camera so you can all see photo evidence. It is my mission to cure this girl of her phobias (I deserve a medal)...so wish me luck!

• completely natural

Since I am under a time constraint with this next post (partly for having to pay to use internet, for once; partly because I am eager to get back to that palm tree that I've been lying under for most of the morning...), I am going to do a quick rundown of the latest highs and lows.

-Journey from Lanquin to Flores. No such thing as bridges, apparently. Arrived at the slowest ferry crossing in the world, where armed policemen roamed the area but did little to instill any order in the procedure. We were repeatedly outdriven by Guatemalans in their trucks and buses, revving their engines to get off to the quickest start and race onto the fragile looking float. After an hour and a half of trying and driving around to find the best access point, we made it on, only to be forced off by the grumpy conductor-who-ate-too-many-burritos, in place of a lorry. When we did have success, he continued to complicate things by making each driver re-park their vehicle, whilst the ferry was moving. Great.

- Tikal Mayan Ruins. 5am start, now a standard routine. Tarantula in my mouth, not quite the norm, but I survived. Howler monkeys, spider monkeys, incredible Mayan temples with precarious ladders to climb (and climb, we did), including Temple 4 (Star Wars temple)- amazing views (and vertigo) from the top.

-Alarm clock fail: shuttle to Belize set to leave at 5am; we woke up at 4.55am. Not ideal. Also managed to put my pile of travel clothes in a rain puddle outside the bathroom, so travelled all day in soggy shorts and t-shirt. Once again experienced Guatemalan queue-jumping, and were pushed in front of by about 5 nimble locals at customs.

-Arrived at Belize City- took water taxi to Caye Caulker. PARADISE. Total island life. Settled in by drinking rum punch in the sea, and didn't look back. Met some travellers who told horror stories of the hostel we'd just checked into (homeless man scaling the balcony, bed bugs, staff getting into bed with guests, etc), so we decided to check out ASAP the next day and find a better place to stay.

-Woke up at 5.28am for my 5.30am dive boat meet (the alarm clock is my nemesis). PANIC. Didn't help hearing a rasta man calling in the distance, "Hey, no rush, man, be chill, this is de islaand life", as I sprinted out of the hostel. No, rasta man, I don't do chill. But I made it, got my butt completely decimated from the reckless driving of the boat captain on the 2 hour boat ride through horribly choppy water... but dove the Blue Hole and saw a gazillion sharks, so I was happy.

-Rang in my birthday at the island nightclub, surreal experience, very 1st-floor Bridge.

-My birthday: AKA day of doom
-Diving with a stomach bug is the most horrendous thing ever. I won't go into the gory details, but came back and continued to be ill for the entire day. Went to my island birthday party at Jolly Roger's (which drew a good crowd), but was a bit of a loser and couldn't celebrate like planned. Still, Jolly Roger (or the huge guy that runs the place and clearly enjoys his lobster) set us up with a great meal of lobster, coconut rice, mashed potato, garlic bread (yes, I did just list 3 different types of carbs), all-you-can-drink rum punch, and caramel cake. Today we are going to do our best to get through the huge chocolate birthday cake we weren't able to eat and which cost a bomb (US$20, after we had haggled)- and left us wondering what it might be laced with..!

Sitting in a cafe run by an American lady with her 7-year old, bleach-blond son (who speaks in a thick Creole accent -so incongruous): overheard this conversation:
Boy: Mom, guess what I saw Crazy Bobby doing?
Mom: What, was he smoking crack?
Boy: No, he was buying crack.
Mom: How did you know it was crack and not weed?
Boy: [Goes on to explain how he knew the difference.] Disturbing.

Other things overheard: local kids singing on the jetty, "I bought an AK and cleared the whole place down", and "Cocaine is the best thing". Ah, the effect of the media on kids.

Well, there's more to tell, but the beach is calling me. Next stop, 3 day sailing trip down the Belizean coast, by the way. Just in case you need me.