Psychedelic Jesus bus

When we told Nicaraguans in Leon and Jiquilillo that we were headed to Esteli, up in the mountains, they’d often give a little shiver and say, “frio” (cold).  And when we told people in Esteli that we were heading further up into La Miraflor (a large cooperatively-managed farming community/nature preserve), they had the same reaction.

Both sets of people had a point.  Compared to the blistering heat of the coast, Esteli was cool and breezy.  (Mostly this was very pleasant, except when we were freezing our tails off in Somoto Canyon.)  And now that we’re here at the Finca Lindos Oyos in La Miraflor, we’re wearing all of our layers.
I should start with the journey, which was quite an adventure.  After our excitement at the bus station, we set off on a repurposed school bus.  The ceiling was painted with bright-colored patches in every color of the rainbow, and the side of the door that faced inward (the doors are never closed on these buses) was covered with an elaborate picture of Jesus hovering benevolently over the earth.  (On the other window, next to the driver, was another Jesus.  This one looked considerably more grim, wearing his crown of thorns and glaring inward.  I wouldn’t have liked it much if I were the driver, but maybe it kept him from falling asleep or something.  Note: Bob believed that this one was Che Guevara, not Jesus.  I am still convinced by the crown of thorns.)  The overhead racks were totally full, so we had our large bags stuffed awkwardly onto our laps.

The river crossing

In looking at a map, I couldn’t figure out how the farm could possibly be two and a half hours away, but it soon became apparent.  A few miles out of town, the bus turned off onto a rocky dirt track that climbed into the forest.  It did not appear to be a track that was meant for any kind of traffic, never mind a school bus.  At one point we actually forded a small river.  (I heard Zoe in front of me saying, “What do they do in the rainy season?”)

We climbed up and up, going about 5 mph along rocky, winding paths with sheer drops off to one side and cliffs rising sharply from the other.  (Maybe this was the reason for all the Jesuses.)  Gradually the sun disappeared as we ascended into the clouds, and eventually rain began to fall.  The savvy locals around us were gradually pulling their layers out of their bags, but ours were mostly inaccessible.

I was fascinated by watching the men who worked the bus.  The buses here have roof racks to hold various cargo, and one of the bus men had the unenviable job of climbing up on the roof to hand down boxes and bags of rice and steel girders and lots of other random objects (no chickens, though).  Sometimes as the bus started up again a foot would appear outside our window, and the man would swing himself back into the bus.  Eventually, though, I guess the stops were frequent enough that he just perched up there in the chilly rain.

Did I mention that this bus, which was traveling into the absolute middle of nowhere, was completely packed?  It’s amazing to me that you can easily get a bus to virtually anywhere here.  Finally it was time for us to disembark, and the bus continued along its way to god-knows-where.

Despite the weather (which we’ve been told us unusual, even way up here in the cloud forest) we all like it here.  Our little bungalow is cozy, if a bit chilly.  Our porch looks out over the fields and mountains and forest, and horses graze around it.  There are dogs and cats and ducks and chickens and a mean goose.  It was a novelty to pull out the fleece jackets and raincoats that we’ve been lugging around with us.  Dinner was amazing, even if we did eat it in almost total darkness.  (We found out later that there was an issue with the solar panels.)

We’re the only guests here, and given the seclusion of this place, we thought we might have our first quiet night since arriving in the country.  Alas, the storm gathered strength overnight, and we were immersed in the sounds of falling rain and howling wind coming in through the insubstantial walls and roof.  We can only hope that the sun will come out tomorrow.