Mombacho is an active volcano. Zoe sticks her hand in a steam vent, just to check.

The other day we returned to the cloud forest. First we went on a hike around the main crater of Mombacho Volcano. We got a ride to the top.  When we got there, it was cold and misty.

Perezoso! Did you know they can swim, too?.

About five minutes into the walk, we saw people pointing to something in a tree up ahead and and taking pictures. When we got to where they were, our guide pointed out a sloth in the tree.
It was much smaller than I expected sloths to be. Our guide said that was because it was only so eleven months old. He also said that sloths are great swimmers. That really suprised me!

It’s a porcupine, but it looks fuzzy.

Later on our guide pointed to what looked like a fluffy ball in a tree. I couldn’t figure out what it was. After looking at it for a while, he said that it was a porcupine. It looked soft, not spiny. The guide lead us along a small path to the back of the tree to see its white face. It was asleep.

After the hike we drove down the mountain a little ways for ziplining. I had been looking forward to ziplining for a long time. It was so fun! After getting all our equipment, we drove up to a large tree with a platform. There were eleven zipline segments with platforms and sometimes bridges connecting them. On some of the segments, our guides helped us do special things like getting in a superman position or going upside down. On the last segment, our ropes were longer so we got to swing back and forth. That was my favorite segment.

Lanie did tricks, too, but they’re mostly on video. Look for on on Youtube soon.

Backpacker-type people will sniff about Granada being a town that caters to tourists.  This is indisputably true — but I say, it’s not such a bad thing to be catered to once in a while.

We already took a day trip to Granada when we were at La Mariposa.  Though we enjoyed it, we weren’t necessarily planning a return trip — until we did some calculations and found that trying to get from the cloud forest of La Miraflor to our next destination of Ometepe Island would involve at least three buses, four taxis, and a ferry, which we weren’t Herculean enough to attempt in a single day.  Luckily, Granada was in the middle, and a couple of days of city life, with all its attendant comforts, didn’t sound bad at all.

Granada is the perfect city for strolling, with its houses of every color, striking churches, and vibrant market.  Our hotel was right around the corner from a cobblestone street that was closed to cars (although, inexplicably, one still rolled by every now and then) and lined with bars and restaurants with outdoor tables.  As the lake breezes swept the heat of the day away, it was heavenly to sit outside with a mojito (2 for $2), listening to the roaming musicians and the Latin music drifting out of the bars.

Of course, the other side of the tourist coin is the street vendors that approach every few seconds, looking to sell you sunglasses, cashews, hammocks, and jewelry.  However, in almost all cases we find that they retreat immediately when we say, “No, gracias”, so they really aren’t so bad.  (Sometimes they’re even convenient.  One day the girls decided they wanted to buy sunglasses, and had them in hand about 5 minutes later.  And once we ALL were wearing sunglasses, the sunglass vendors at any rate no longer approached.)

Bob and I snuck out for happy hour around the corner.

And there is still plenty of genuine Nicaragua around the edges.  One day, looking to arm ourselves for a picnic, we headed into the huge street market, which takes up a couple of blocks with warrens of vendor stalls.  (Bizarrely, there were seemingly hundreds of stalls all selling the same types of fruits and vegetables — I don’t know how they possibly survived.)  There were booths with huge sacks full of beans and grains, being sold by weight (also dog food!)  We successfully procured avocados, tomatoes, a lime, and a stack of homemade tortillas.

Serenaded by street performers during dinner.  Bob was very excited about the lefty guitar player.

It was crowded and chaotic, but as with everywhere in Nicaragua pretty much everyone was polite and helpful to us.  And with the exception of cab drivers, we haven’t found anyone who has tried to cheat us, despite our sometimes shaky grasp of exchange rates.  (You can pay with dollars anywhere here, but you usually get your change in cordobas.)  Yesterday we were walking through another section of the market on our way to the bus station, weaving through the crowds and stalls while wearing all our possessions on our backs, and someone started shouting, “Rivas?  Rivas?”  (This is the name of the town where we were headed by bus.)  My instinct is to ignore things like this, assuming they either want to sell us something or somehow get our money, but luckily Bob has more faith in humanity.  He said “yes” to the man, who then helpfully told us that we should take a left at the next corner since the bus station is hard to find.  Not an experience I’ve ever had in an American city!

Parents are SO embarrassing

Beautiful views of La Miraflor as we head for Esteli.

We started yesterday in the grey mist of a Miraflor morning. One last batch of pancakes, then a short walk to the main road for the 6:30 bus back down towards sea level. Despite multiple offers of substantial money — up to $70 that we would have split equitably with our friend and fellow Lindos Ojos guest Senor Joe — our hosts could not find anyone with a pickup truck who wanted to bring us to Esteli. I even heard Marcial call out to one friend in a coffee finca while we rode past on our horses the other day, but the friend’s truck was out of commission, or so the friend claimed.)

Zoe’s LL Bean thermometer, compass, magnifying glass zipper pull is being a little generous here. It was in the low 60s when we started our trip.

That means we sat at the bus stop with six legs of transportation between us and our hotel in Granada. At least we hope it was our hotel. Without Internet (and without cell phone service due to the poor communication skills of Mobal International Telephones) we had to ask the finca’s owner Katharina to call hotels for us when she went home to Esteli on Sunday. She sent back a note with her ever-dutiful daughter that said Granada was almost full, but there was a hotel with room of five. We would have to call and confirm before we got on the bus in Esteli.

One hint that my backpack made it inside the bus: the Main Street Makery luggage tag hanging from the overhead rack.

Leg 1: Although there would be an express bus later in the morning, we chose the 6:30 bus because it was more likely to have space for all five of us (six counting senor Joe) and our luggage. We get up early here anyway, and we pack up quickly. Not only did we not have trouble finding seats, our luggage got to ride with us in the main cabin. (You may remember that my backpack had to ride on top of the bus on the way up to La Miraflor.)
Two and half hours later, leg one was complete. In the hubbub of the Cotran Norte bus terminal — very near the spot where Jen was kidnapped a few days before — we tried to reach the Granada hotel on Katharina’s daughter’s cell phone. Nobody answered. Cue suspenseful music.

Leg 2: Ok, now back to the peppy Benny Hill music to accent our travels. A short walk out of the terminal to a crosswalk on the Pan American Highway. A man assured us that the cars would let us cross if we started walking into the road. Miraculously, no one even beeped. A small taxi stopped for us, even though the taxista’s girlfriend was taking up the passenger seat. All five of us sat in the back this time. The drive is only about a kilometer. It costs 40 $C. Why does every city in Nicaragua need multiple bus terminals? The taxi lobby must be very strong.

Greyhounds on the seat covers — a true mark of luxury.

Leg 3: A man in the Cotran Sur Terminal seemed interested in giving Jen a ride to Managua, then he saw the girls and me and pointed us to the ticket window. We bought tickets for 70 $C per person. The local to Managua was just about to pull out. No way, buddy. Tickets for us. Individual seats. Baggage storage below. An hour more of our lives to enjoy at the end of line.

We decide to break a $20 bill by buing something to eat in the well-appoined terminal. A few pieces of pound cake, a few tortas filled with pina and three packets of Ritz crackers peanut butter sandwiches leave us with plenty of change.

The seats on the bus recline and they even have arm rests. Observant passengers notice the cloth seat covers feature a greyhound pattern. No retired school bus this time.
We’re in Managua in just over two hours.

Leg 4: A few steps outside of our greyhound charriot, Jen encountered a taxista who could take us cross town to the Granada buses. But why not let him take us all they way to Granada? He offered $50. Jen declined. He comes down to $40. Legs five and six of our journey vanished into the air.

One of the nice things about taxi rides, and this should really be factored into the price, is that they become a Spanish lesson for me. I sit up front with the driver and we chat for a while.   It’s great practice with a captive audience.  The taxistas tend to speak a brand of Spanish that is more opaque to me than the Spanish our Mariposa professors used, and it’s a lot closer to what people speak on the street.  I nod my head a lot and say, “Si. si.”  Chances are that’s appropriate.

This ride was only an hour but taxista Edgar was amiable and informative. He drove us through the tony Managua neighborhood where foreign diplomats live. He pointed out the huge estate of a former finance minister who has opened up a chain of Walmart-like stores in Nicaragua in his retirement. I saw a fortaleza on top of a mountain that the Sandanistas liberated and turned into a boy scout camp. We looked out over the Laguna de Apollo from the opposite side from where we swam.

Edgar almost met his match finding our hotel, but after asking directions several times he got us there. Then he gave us his number in case we were ever in Managua again. And he took our names and phone number, too. Who knows when he’s going decide to go New England? I think he even gave his number to the clerk at our hotel. Edgar really gets around.
And guess what — it turned out to be our hotel after all. My new friend Mario had a room for five ready for us, with a/c and breakfast included. A big hurrah for the Posada San Jose, two blocks south of the cathedral in Granada, Nicaragua.

In the welcoming embrace of strong wifi.

Everyone quickly settled into the free wifi, but Mario suggested I go across the street to the Corral Restaurant (where, as guests of the Posada San Jose, we get 10 percent off) and watch the Champeons’ League match between Real Madrid — Mario’s favorite team — and Schalke from Germany. I only watched one half but there was plenty of scoring and the beer only cost 28 $C. It was a fine way to spend part of the two hours we gained through greyhound buses and direct taxis.

In Granada later in the day, it got well into the 90s.

Aside from the wifi and European soccer, Granada offers us many other luxuries. We noticed one of them as Edgar picked his way through the city. It was a laundromat and it will charge us by the pound to do our washing. Our clothes are certainly dirty, the only question is how much it will set us back to get it done.

How heavy does this laundry look to you?

What do our blog readers think? How many pounds of dirty clothes can a family create over two days in Leon, two days in Esteli and four days in La Miraflor? Post your guesses here or on Facebook. The person with the closest guess will get his or her name published in our blog in the form of a fictional Nicaraguan who crosses our path. and touches our lives forever.

One of our family’s favorite children’s books is James Herriot’s Treasury for Children, with its funny and heartwarming stories about Herriot’s life as a country vet.  My favorite part is the gorgeous illustrations — and based on those, I’d say La Miraflor greatly resembles the Yorkshire Dales in the early part of the 20th century.

As you stroll down the rocky dirt track, you see fields and mountains rolling away into the distance.  All manner of livestock graze in nearby fields (or often in the road itself).  Dogs and cats stare curiously from the roadside.  There are no power lines or telephone lines, and almost

Our bungalow

no traffic.  Frequently people ride by on horseback, which is the main form of transportation.  A few times a day the peace is shattered by the bus, which rumbles slowly by while blaring its horn to alert the nearby house of its approach (and to encourage livestock to move out of the road).

We have had a tranquil few days up here, moving at the slow pace that the place seems to inspire.  We’ve had lots of time for reading, playing games, and playing with the resident animals (which include three dogs, two cats, a baby kitten, innumerable poultry, and several horses).  Our stay includes three large and delicious meals per day, homemade with ingredients from their own vegetable garden (and, in some cases, some of the aforementioned poultry).  Our favorite is breakfast, which starts with organic coffee grown here, along with a big pitcher of steamed milk from their own small dairy herd.  I have never had such delicious milk!  The girls have taken to drinking cups full of it with a small splash of coffee added.

Morning entertainment was watching Marciel shoe a horse. Like everything else, this was done the old-fashioned way, with a simple hammer and knife.

Bob gallantly helps harvest the bok choy.

Our latest adventure here was a horseback ride, which Nadia has been eagerly awaiting the whole week.  Marciel led us down the road for a few miles, up and down a few steep hills, and eventually to a lovely waterfall nestled into the woods.  There is a very deep pool at the base of the falls for swimming — but alas, the water comes from mountain streams and is very cold.  Only Zoe was brave enough to jump into the pool, and even she only did it once.

Soon we’ll be back in the 21st century, with wifi and phones and reliable electricity.  Katharina says that they’re supposed to pave the road soon, and that her neighbor wants to put in a large hotel.  But I’m glad we got to see it as it is now, bumpy roads and all.

Zoe takes the plunge

The day started to clear up before lunch, so we took a walk to a nearby community

Here at 4,000 feet, still in the middle of this Honduras Clipper that brings clouds, wind and an inconsistent drizzle, you could look to the horizon the other morning and see blue sky.  It wasn’t raining in Esteli, maybe 25 kilometers away.  It’s probably been hot there all day.  In the Miraflor, we are learning why we’ve lugged these raincoats and fleeces around for three weeks.  We’re also very happy we have the use of some sturdy rubber boots, courtesy of the finca.  It would not do to wear our sandals around and get our socks all wet.

Making our way through the woods

The hope was that that the storm would pass overnight, but it’s still grey, particularly so in the morning.  The wind is probably not that strong, but because of the way our lodging was built — there’s between half and inch and two inches of open space between the top of the walls and the bottom of the roof — when the breeze picks up, it flows right through this gap and sounds like a subway train is passing directly above the cabana. It drowns out the rooster on the other side of the finca.

The strangler fig is empty because the tree it grew around died and rotted away. This left space for Zoe to climb in.

Marcial, our first day’s finca tour guide and our assistant host, said this morning that the day would calm, and it did.  After lunch, the girls were able to climb around in the 20-meter-tall strangler fig without fear of it toppling over in the wind.  This is actually a valid fear.  We saw several mature trees lying on the ground and Katharina, the owner of the finca and our guide for the day’s forest walk, says this is the result of an uptick in wind this year combined with an the emergence of a swamp in the middle of the forest.  Nobody can tell her why the swamp is forming, but the past three days of intermittent rain in the middle of the dry season will only contribute to the situation.

The outside of the tree was good for climbing, too.

The monster strangler fig is a major attraction in the forest here, and it sadly appears to be a candidate for windfall.  It was listing several degrees from vertical, but it did not lose its footing when Zoe managed to reach a window about 12 meters up.

Katharina points to the huge ant hill. The ants bring back leaf pieces to feed a huge fungus inside. Then the young ants eat the fungus.

When the climbing was done, we were treated to a wonderful display of nature in the form of a leaf-cuter ant highway leading to the ants’ huge colony.  Their order and economy among the chaos of the forest was incredible.

The afternoon held one more treat;  Katharina’s daughter saddled up her horse and let the girls ride around the yard.  Even Lanie got a lift.  They also got a brush to groom the horses as the horses grazed around the compound.  This was more than we could expect, and the girls enjoyed it immensely.

Next up is our big horse ride, possibly to a waterfall.  Marcial seems to think the weather will break and we’ll have a good day for riding.  Let’s hope he’s right.

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.

A two-week-old goose

The other day we got to tour a canyon. First, we got picked up from the bus station and taken to our guide’s house. They had a lot of animals. One of their cats was trained to jump over their arms. They also had dogs, two bunnies, a donkey, turkeys, and lots of ducks, chickens, and geese. I got to hold a two-week-old baby goose. He was so cute and fuzzy!

The canyon narrows

After seeing the animals, we went into the canyon. We hiked for a while before we swam. The water was pretty deep. The canyon narrowed after we swam a little ways. After swimming, we explored a couple of caves.

Nadia jumps; Franklin watches

Later, we came to a boulder that we could jump off of. Nadia, Mom, Dad, and I decided to jump. I went first. After everyone else jumped, it should have been Lanie’s turn. She decided not to jump because she was afraid that she would hit rocks below. She found another place to jump and scrambled up a rock to get there. Nadia and I jumped there, too. It was hard to climb up because my feet wouldn’t fit into some of the cracks Lanie had used.

There were many cool rock formations in the canyon.

Not much farther to swim

Near the end of our tour, the canyon narrowed into a slot canyon. The sides were very steep and riddled with caves. The river was deep and very cold and there was nowhere to walk so we had to swim. We were so cold! We came to a place where we could jump off a cliff. Only Dad did. I didn’t because I was too cold and didn’t want to get my hair wet.

At the end we rode in a boat and then walked back and ate lunch. We were very hungry and tired but we had had so much fun!

Depiction of the Canyon Somoto on the 50-cordova bill.

On the way back to the bus station, we stopped at a little zoo in the central park of the city of Somoto. We saw a few Nicaraguan animals, but the path to a lot of the exhibits was blocked. We didn’t know why. Then, on our way out, we saw a strange animal up in a tree. It had escaped from its cage. Zoo workers were climbing ladders and trying to catch it. It looked a little like a raccoon. It was a different shade of brown than a raccoon and its tail had orange-ish stripes. It was also much longer and thinner and had a longer nose. It wasn’t a dangerous animal.

We’ve been off the grid in the hinterlands for the last four days, so we’ll be posting a few catch-up blog posts over the next day or two.

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You tend to imagine, if you’re traveling through a foreign third-world country where you have no previous acquaintances, that you have a certain degree of anonymity.  You could do anything and be anyone!  However, if you’re traveling with your three children, you might want to think again.

The city of Esteli is fairly large – population over 100,000.  But it might as well be Podunk, KS for us.  I’m getting the idea that the places we’re going don’t see a lot of families of five.

Our hostel in Esteli

Our first hint of this was as we were just arriving in our hostel in Esteli.  As we stood outside the door, laden with baggage, a man stood up in the back of a passing pickup truck and started yelling something.  As a rule, I ignore strange men yelling from trucks, so I just kept walking.  Bob heard something that made him turn his head, though, and then wave back.  It turns out the man was yelling, “Jen!  It must be Jen!  I’m Brian!”  It took a few minutes of perplexity for us to remember that when we’d made a reservation for the Somoto Canyon tour (located a couple of hours away) the next day, the person with whom I’d corresponded was named Brian.  Brian stopped by to see us a little later, and it turned out we’d identified him correctly.

Later in the restaurant across the street someone else accosted me by name.  It proved to be the owner of the hostel, whom I’d spoken with on the phone but had never met.  (All our accommodations have recognized us right away, of course – but not usually when we’re elsewhere in the city!)

Luckily no one seemed to notice us at the Italian restaurant…

…or the ice cream parlor.

Friday was a bit more unsettling.  We were standing in the bustling Esteli bus station (well, the north station, which is about 4 blocks from the south station), trying to figure out which bus we were supposed to board.  (We were heading to an organic coffee farm, Finca Lindos Oyos, in the cloud forest north of Esteli, and had rather inadequate directions.)  Bob had gone off to look at the notice board, leaving his bag behind.  As the crowds swirled around us, a woman suddenly walked up and I thought she said, “Finca Lindos Oyos?”  I nodded uncertainly, and she suddenly beckoned, said something in Spanish, grabbed a few of our bags, and took off through the crowd.  Running after her, I saw her bring our things onto a bus, while I shouted what I thought was “Stop!” in Spanish but in actuality, Bob later confirmed, was just nonsense.

Imagining various horror stories of unsuspecting tourists being lured onto wrong buses and robbed of their possessions, I was at a loss for how to proceed.  I saw the kids had followed me,

Maybe it’s Rose the well-traveled turtle that they’re recognizing.

so I yelled for them to go back and stay with Bob’s bag, hoping it wasn’t already gone.  Then I boarded the bus and saw that the woman was gesturing to some seats.  She must have read my thoughts because she yelled to another young woman that she should explain to me in English.  This other woman turned out to be the daughter of the owners of the finca, and said that she’d come to save us seats because otherwise we might not have gotten them.  She had enough details about us and where we were going to put my mind at ease – and we were grateful for the intervention, because even though we were half an hour early the bus was getting pretty full.  (As it turned out, we ended up sitting with all our bags in our lap.)

We’ve seen people we actually do know, as well.  It seems that there’s a fairly well-worn tourist path for people who are looking for eco-conscious, socially responsible travel in Nicaragua.  At the Hostel Luna, we saw people from both La Mariposa and Ranch Esperanza.

So, it turns out we won’t be going on the lam or starting a drug ring on this trip.  Too famous for that.

As of Wednesday we’ve packed up at the Rancho and moved on to Esteli in the mountainous interior.  Sitting here in the cool courtyard of our hostel is very pleasant, because Jiquilillo was HOT.  The sun was so strong that the sand became almost impassable.  To access the ocean, you’d have to take a deep breath at the edge of the beach, then run like the devil to get to the wet sand before your feet became grilled.  (I know, I’m sounding like oh, there’s too much ice in my pina colada! or my back is really starting to hurt from lying in this hammock!  Just describing, not complaining, New England peeps!)  We’re all at least a little sunburned despite our best efforts with the sunscreen.

We made the most of our last couple of days.  Poor Ross, the beleaguered surfing instructor, had to put up with the other half of the family.  Lanie was more successful on the surfboard than we expected, and impressed us all by continuing to pop up with a smile every time a wave knocked her down.  Bob and I took our lesson after her, while the kids went to play and help out at the “kids’ club”, which the Rancho runs as a community service for the local kids.  I’d like to think that we did pretty well too.  (I think my yoga background helped me out, as the “gorilla” position used for surfing strongly resembles Warrior pose.)

Initially I thought I was a surfing disaster, since every time Ross would set me up to catch a wave the nose of my board would immediately dip underwater, sending me face-first into the surf (which was no more pleasant than it sounds).  I was on the verge of giving up, but guess what?  It turned out to be a problem with the board!  With a new board, I was much more successful, and Bob and I practiced for a while after our lesson (until my leg muscles refused to do any more “popping up” — guess I didn’t do quite enough of that yoga).  I’m scratched and bruised and received several high-velocity face-fulls of water, but it’s still fun being a surfer.

We also worked in a brief coconut tree climbing class.  Brief because the girls gave up rather rapidly.  Ross had warned us that the success rate was pretty much nil, but we told him not to count out Zoe.  Turns out she wasn’t feeling well that afternoon, though, so she wasn’t in tiptop form.  The teacher of the class made it look so easy, though.  Our consolation prize was three fresh-picked (by him) coconuts.

The next day we’d signed up for kayaking in the nearby nature-preserve estuary.  Zoe was still feeling tired, so she and Bob stayed behind, but the other girls and I headed out with a few others from the Rancho.  The estuary was beautiful, kayaking through tunnels of mangroves while distant, perfectly conical volcanoes shimmered on the horizon.  It was a lot of paddling, so Nadia and I were pretty tired by the end.  (Lanie was not particularly tired, because she was in front of a two-person kayak with me and did not actually contribute substantially to the

Puffer fish! It looked exactly like the bath toy Lanie used to have.

paddling effort.)  We were not so tired, however, that we weren’t jumping lively during the long, mosquito-ridden walk home, when a bull came charging down the road in our direction, being chased by two dogs.  (Cows, horses, bulls, and other assorted livestock are everywhere here, hanging out by the roadsides eating what grass they can find.)  Fortunately, we made it home without incident (other than mosquito bites).

Here is Lanie “helping” me paddle the kayak.

In the last couple of days, the whole family took surfing lessons. Nadia and I had the first part of our lessons together so that we could have more time in the water. Our teacher’s name was Ross.

Ross to Nadia: Stand like a gorilla.

First, we had some dry land instruction. We learned how we were supposed to stand on the board, and practiced getting up to a standing possition from lying down on the board. Ross told us to spring up into the standing position and to stand like a gorilla on the board, with our knees bend and our chests thrown out.

After that, we got to start the water part of our lessons. My turn in the water was first. It was a lot harder to stand up on the board when it was in the water! My first few tries, I fell off before I was able to stand fully up. It wasn’t painful, and the water was nice and warm.

Catching a wave

A few tries later, I was able to stand up and stay balanced for a couple seconds. I was so happy! But I still had alot to learn. When I went back out to catch a ride, Ross would give me tips. He told me to try to stand up more quickly. At first, he started the board for me, but later in the lesson, I learned to paddle myself.

Zoe surfs

By the end of the lesson, I was able to get up much faster and stay up much longer. We rented the surfboard for the rest of the day and for the next day, so I had plenty of time to practice.

After the lessons