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

I think that some poeple may be reading our blog and thinking: “Maybe I want a Loompa Loompa,” or “Maybe I want a trained squirrel.”

Now I’m not saying that all our friends go running around like Veruca Salt or undertake San Diego tennis lessons all the time; but it’s easy to imagine someone looking at this picture of Jen holding the sunset (no Photoshop needed — those are all Jen’s natural curves!) and then looking out their window at the snow drifts, and then wishing they were here.
But do they really wish they were here, or, in attempting to gain some respite from winter, would they find all this Nicaragua stuff is the equivalent of a bad nut (or a bad egg, if you’ve only seen the movie)?
Let’s find out. Here is a list of things that make our trip to Rancho Esperanza seem like the greatest beach vacation of our lives:

Really good sand and shells

Perfect climate — Will it rain tomorrow? “It hasn’t rained here in three months,” says Ross, who is kind of like the camp counselor here. Every day since we’ve been at el Rancho has been sunny and virtually cloudless. Even in Masaya and Leon, it was almost all sun all the time. It’s hot, but that’s what you want at the beach. There’s no humidity and very few mosquitos. And it won’t rain again here until winter, which for this place begins in April or May — some time after we leave, anyway.
Perfect beaches — Well, near perfect. The sand is soft (and very hot during the afternoon) and not rocky, but there is a lot of plastic stuff tumbling about in the breeze. Sunday also seems to be the day to burn your trash in the community surrounding the Rancho. But in general, it is a beautiful beach with lots of space to walk around and very few people getting in the way. To the north, towards El Salvador, you can see distant mountains, which I think are still in Nicaragua. There are also cool shells, but we’re not experts like my parents, so I don’t know exactly how cool they are.

Zoe surfs

Perfect water — The water temperature has to be in the high 80s. There’s no acclimation process needed for entry. Even Jen, who sometimes takes more than ten mintues to get herself fully submerged in the ocean, just walks right in here. The waves are strong but not threatening. There is no undertow. The sea floor is flat, smooth and gradual. We’ve seen no jellyfish or algae blooms, or seaweed of any kind, for that matter. No toe nipping crabs.

Nadia surfs; Ross cheers

It’s pretty cheap — I don’t know what the rooms cost, but it’s not terribly high given we can hear the ocean from our room when the roosters are resting (more roosters, I know!). The cooks will make you a peanut butter sandwich for $1. A big plate of gallo pinto (beans and rice) costs the same, and it’s terrific. Bottles of soda and cans of juice are 90 cents each. A litre bottle of cold beer big enough for Jen and me to share is $2.50 For that same price you can get five choco-bananas. The only thing that seems relatively expensive here are the breakfast items. Anything involving bagels reaches into the $4.50 range, but you get a big plate of fruit with it.

Good food — breakfast all day!

Plus, breakfast is available all day. Such an offer cannot be beaten.
You don’t have to go anywhere — There are several really cool-sounding activities available here, including surf lessons and horseback riding on the beach (both of which we have tried here) and they all come to us. The horses picked us up on the beach . The surfing teacher gave the girls lessons right at our complex. Actually, the surfing teacher is Ross the camp counselor. Zoe and Nadia had a great time with him today. The rest of us have our lessons tomorrow. (It should be noted that the lessons are cheap, too. An hour-long one-on-one lesson costs $10.) Also on our to-do list is a coconut tree-climbing class and a kayak tour of the mangrove estuary. We might have to walk to get to those. Although this doesn’t appear to be a highly developed area, we’re told there is a place that sells fried chicken a few doors down, and we passed a pizza place on our way in (though so far, the food they serve here has been excellent, inexpensive and easy to get our hands on).

Here’s another sunset, but don’t book your ticket ’til you read the whole post

Plenty of hammocks

Sunsets over the ocean — We have seen three tremendous sunsets so far here (Zoe and I saw this evening’s while we were in the water practicing her surfing skills) and there’s every reason to believe the next two will be just as good.
Ready to book your trip yet? Here are a few of the downsides that may make you decided to stay home and do a jigsaw puzzle of a Polynesian scene instead.
It’s tough to get here — We were fortunately able to meander our way to these parts. The drive from Leon was less than two hours. People who came here straight from Managua said it took them four hours and a few bus transfers. If you have the time, like we do, it’s best to make your way here in stages. Leon was a nice stopover. Also, there are not a lot of things to do in the area once you get here. There is a volcano to hike, but there are no notable cities. (Apologies to the residents of the city of Chinandega )
The atmosphere isn’t totally family friendly — There is a pleasant goofiness to how the Rancho is set up. If you’ve been the the Fabulous Umbrella Factory in Charlestown, RI, you might recognize the hippie vibe these two places share. But the clientelle is decidedly younger. One guy visiting from Colorado seems to me to be in his late teens, though I am looking though the fog of age. This might not have effected us as much had we not spent much of the last three weeks at the Mariposa School, which didn’t have a lot more kids as guests while we were there, but it did have a guest community that was decidedly more interested in us and our kids. A few people have talked to us here, but mostly we’re ignored. Except by Ross, who has been saying nice things about Zoe and Nadia all evening long. While we’re comparing it to the Mariposa School, we should say that the organizational setup is different. At the Mariposa, they scheduled excursions and you signed up for them if you wanted to go. Here you have to request the activities, and negociate the timing of them. There are benefits to this latter system (just ask the poor Mariposa students who didn’t get to hike the Volcan Masaya), but Jen and I found it less stressful having it put up on the board all laid out for us.

Practicing for the coconut trees

Internet access is limited and not free — That is why our blogging is not as consistent as it had been. As I’ve been writing, Jen has taken two trips over to the one computer on the compound that is connected to the Internet. Both times someone else was using it.
Finally, and this may be the deal breaker for you Veruca, there are neither flush toilets nor hot showers — Remember the hippie vibe thing I was talking about? It goes pretty deep. Actually, the composting toilets are good for the environment and are probably necessary here because of the scarcity of water. Also they don’t smell and you can throw your toilet paper in them (which you can’t do in many of the flush toilets around here). The showers haven’t been a big deal at all. The air is pretty warm here and the water that comes out is room-temperature. Showering has not been unpleasant, which is good because after a day in the ocean, it is necessary to rinse off pretty well.

Our room features multicolored mosquito nets.

So there you have it. Do you value flush toilets over predictable sun and warm, comfortable surf? Does ease of access trump a low bar tab?
Whatever you decide, I hope you find your oasis from the snow drifts. And if you decide to stay with winter, I hope our blog is giving you a warming glimpse of the summer to come. Short of that, have your Loompa Loompa bring you some hot chocolate and set to work on that Polynesian puzzle.

We’ve said our farewells to Leon. Here are a few more photos of our time there:

View from the cathedral roof

Parque Central

Huge hole in the sidewalk. These were everywhere and presumably designed to cripple unwary tourists.

This pretty much captures it perfectly.  Note the torture scenes.

It was a lovely city and a good stop, but a day or so there proved to be enough to cover the attractions that we thought would be family-friendly. (Although, in the case of the Museum of Myths and Legends, we proved to be somewhat mistaken in this view. All I can say is that it was probably the most bizarre tourist attraction I’ve ever visited (even including a museum that I once found myself in somewhere in Eastern Europe that had, if memory serves, various potatoes in the shapes of famous people). The museum was originally intended to showcase the myths and legends of Nicaragua, via various plastic and paper-mache figures set in rather corny displays — but is located in an old prison that was used by the Somoza dictatorship prior to the Sandinista revolution. So the cheesy-looking figures are juxtaposed with murals and sculptures depicting prison scenes and people being tortured. Also, the “myths and legends” seemed to uniformly involve people being killed/committing suicide and then coming back as ghosts. Our guide spoke English, for better or for worse, but seemed much one of those toys where you pull a string on a talking doll: he launched into a well-rehearsed spiel in front of each exhibit, not pausing for breath until the speech was completed (or the string ran out). Bob was sufficiently traumatized that he refuses to discuss the place, and we were surprised that Lanie wasn’t up with nightmares. You can tell the depth of Bob’s feelings based on the fact that his favorite part was at the end where we got to walk along the top of the prison’s walls, with dizzying drops on each side and extremely inadequate hand rails.)

At least the courtyard was nice.

Our hotel room

Our hotel was genuinely lovely, though, with our room looking out on a beautiful walled courtyard filled with winding paths and greenery — a quiet retreat in the middle of the city. We suffered a bit from the lack of air conditioning, though. Now that we’ve left the mountains for the coast, it’s HOT here. (Note to northeastern friends: No, no, we are not complaining!)

We had lots of interesting converations with the owner, who’s from Queens. He built the hotel himself and spends most of his days volunteering in the poorest neighborhoods, building homes and sporting fields and providing food. He raised two kids in Long Island and is now raising two down here with his Nicaraguan wife, so he’s got a very interesting perspective on the two societies. He feels that his US kids learned more in school, but his kids down here have learned to be kinder and happier.

Today we were planning to hit the buses again, but were a bit daunted when we discovered what getting to our next destination would involve: a taxi to the bus station, a bus ride to Chinandega, a taxi ride to a different bus station (all the small towns here have this maddening habit of having multiple bus terminals scattered through the city), and then another bus ride to our hostel. When I read online that our hostel offered shuttle service for $40, we quickly opted to try to set that up (despite the 4-person maximum). Luckily we were able to work it out, so we got door-to-door taxi service from a very nice man, Lanie perched on my lap in the back seat and our many bags totally filling the hatchback. The ride seemed like it was going to be much shorter than we’d expected — until we got to the last 7 km and turned off onto an extremely rutted dirt road. Half an hour later, we finally arrived. Best $40 we’ve ever spent.

And now we’re ensconced at the Rancho Esperanza, right on the beach in the remote northwestern corner of Nicaragua. It’s essentially a collection of rough thatched-roof shacks on the sand with a hippie/surfer vibe. We rented out a six-person dorm (three sets of bunk beds). We have composting toilets and cold showers, and are surrounded by college-aged people. (One group is currently playing a drinking game the next table over, and another is sitting outside playing the guitar and singing). The beach is beautiful and mostly deserted, and the water is like a bath. We swam for hours today, then lounged in beachfront hammocks with our books, watching a breathtaking sunset. Bob and I signed up for the delicious vegetarian curry dinner, and the kids were thrilled with the “breakfast all day” menu item of waffles (Eggo, by the looks of it) and fruit.

We’re here for five days and it looks like we’ll have plenty to do — surfing lessons, “climb a coconut tree” lessons, kayaking in the adjacent wetland reserve, getting a $2 manicure or $10 massage, maybe helping out in the kids’ club that they run for the local families here. So far, well worth the trip.

To all of our friends at the Mariposa school who saw us off yesterday, particularly to Helen and Rodney, who walked us to the bus stop and helped us carry our things, and who witnessed the dramatic swooping u-turn executed by the microbus to UCA, the rapid loading of our family and posessions, and the hasty departure toward Managua, we’d like to say that we’ve made it to Leon. Thank you for your support.

Plenty of space on the Microbus

The travel was actually quite comfortable and efficient. The frist microbus didn’t stop often, but it did roll to an almost stop frequently while the man with the pot-leaf baseball cap whistled and yelled out the window to potential passengers. Even when people were getting on and off, the bus frequently kept its forward progress. We paid of an extra space for our backpacks — and luckIly there was space in this van for us and our stuff. We only had to wait at the bus stop five minutes!

The porter on the bus was effective at drumming up business — there was standing room only for much of the trip — and he was honest and efficient in giving us our change. (I was not entirely sure how this would work out because he waited until almost the end of the trip to collect from us and never actaully told us what the fare was. I noticed that almost everyone else paid with 20-cordova notes and got a pair of one-cordova coins back. We would need seis por diez y ocho. I gave him 150 cordobas and he took pretty great care, given he was half-way hanging out a van door, to get me correct change.

It is also probable that he gave me good directions to the terminal of the Leon bus. A few weeks of practice with our patient teachers La Mariposa did not really prepare me to understand this guy, though. To his great credit, he did give us a few sentences of direction before hoping back on the already-departing microbus. It turned out to be not too hard to get to the Leon bus. (Cost for traveling from San Juan de la Concepcion to Managua – UCA: 108 $C; time of travel, 12:30 pm – 1:25 pm.)*

The Leon bus was palatial in comparison. It was about half again as big as the first microbus, and it had room for luggage. As it happened, we still ended up with backpacks in the aisle because our big bags took up most of the storage space and there were a couple of seemingly European tourists on the bus who had all of their possessions with them as well. All the people on the bus got seats, though, only back packs were in the aisle.

As this bus was a little more comfortable — it had air conditioning! — and the trip was a little longer, the cost was a little higher — 51 $C per person. The best part was the we avoided waiting again. They squeezed our bags in, ushered us to seats, dealt with my ineptitude in with practicing Spanish and math simultaneously (for this bus, you pay before the bus leaves the terminal), and pulled out within 20 minutes of our exit from the Concepcion – Managua bus. We didn’t even have time to takea picture of the terminal, which was a chaotic sprawl of shed-like garages peppered with people trying to sell food to travelers. I don’t think we can hope for such timing for the rest of our bus journeys across Nicaragua. (Cost for travel from Managua to Leon: 51 cordovas times five people 255 $C, plus 20 $C tip; time of travel: 1:40 pm – 4:15 pm.)*

From there it was smooth sailing. Not a lot of stops. Good roads. We were met in the Leon parking lot/ bus depot by a swarm of bike taxis and allowed ourselves and our baggage to be swept up by two of them. It turned out to be a pleasant, if expensive, way to get to our hotel, passing a few open air markets and lot of Leonites. It’s hot here and our bike taxi operators were moving a lot of weight. They probably deserved the 100-cordova tip that they helped themselves to. (Cost of getting from the bus depot to our hotel: 300 $C, including tip; time: 4:20 – 4:30.)*

Our hotel room has a beautiful front window.

Then, there we were, having completed our own multi-stage trip on Nicaraguan public transportation. The hotel is beautiful; the city is vibrant, and almost pretty after dark. We have pounded the pavement in typical Pavlik vacation style (Jen’s fitbit buzzed in the early afternoon today and we still had plenty of walking to go). On advice from a fellow hotel guest who’s been to Leon a few times, we walked for an hour in search of “Pizzaria Lebano.” After much searching and a few inquiries we found “Hotel Lebano” and were told that they got out of the pizza business and into the hotel business about six years ago.

Looking for pizza on the streets of Leon

Jen had read that Leon is a good city for pizza and the kids were excited for the change from beans, rice and beets. Plan B was Hollywood Pizza, just around the corner from our hotel. It is about as American as it gets, with pictures of Elvis and Marilyn Monroe on the wall. But even with the pizza and pictures, it didn’t really feel like home until I visited the bathroom, which is shared by a neighboring cineplex. No matter where I am, the smell of popcorn and artificial butter substitute food product will always bring me back to the USA.

Its so white up there that I had to adjust the camera.

Today we roamed the town some more in the morning, sipping juice in a high-end hotel that used to be a convent and climbing to the top of the Basilica Catedral de la Asuncion. It’s the biggest cathedral in Central America and its roof is amazing to behold.  Unlike other trips up bell towers, the view from this site is a secondary attraction.  The roof itself is very elaborate, and the most striking feature is its utter whiteness.

Thats more like it.

Juices at the hotel/former convent, with thanks to Helen for the suggestion.

Of course, it must be white to reflect the sun and keep the cathedral manageably cool, but the effect is stunning. The paint is pristine and completely devoid of any pigment. To walk on it, you have to take off your shoes (and you really should wear sunglasses). The surface seems much better tended than any other part of the cathedral’s exterior — or any other part of Leon, for that matter. The whitewashing is completely flawless, unlike the nearby Mausoleum of Heroes and Martyrs, which is derelect in comparison to the cathedral roof. It has to be the coolest roof in Central America. Our feet didn’t even get hot when we walked on it. That roof is amazing.

The UV wand got a workout today.

Back on ground level we worked on some school stuff, explored the extensive courtyard encompassed by our hotel, and recreated the famous Roman Lunch from our Italy trip. It is very hot here, and we drank lots of water.  Our life straw water bottle and magic want UV water purifier saw lots of action.  Truthfully, we don’t know if we can drink the water, but we’re trying to be safe.

At the supermarket

We also visited a supermarket and survived an ATM scare that threatened to eat our afternoon with us desperately contacting our debit card company.  It’s ok if only one bank in the country lets us use our ATM card, as long as that bank has plenty of branches. We need you, Bank of Nicaragua.

Historic reenactment of our Roman Lunch, this time in the courtyard

In the evening there was a trip to a museum of folklore that Jen can describe to you if she’d like. I’d much sooner not have to think about that place ever again. I wish I could expunge it completely from this blog and my mind, but this duty requires as many facts as I can muster.  I am hoping there isn’t too much scaring among our younger charges.  On the upside, Nadia found a nail clipper/bottle opener for 60 $C * that fits nicely in her collection.

Another one for the collection

Then, also on a lucky note, dinner was good enough to wipe out most of the evening’s earlier activities. Muchas gracias to the Nicaraguita Cafe. Eat here, everybody, when you’re in Leon. Our kids sure ate plenty.

We meet again, pasta and cheese.

Finally, I haven’t had the time to read Jen’s post about our trip to the volcano earlier this week, but I would like to say that I dedicate my accomplishments on that day to our Mariposa friends Melanie, Seker, and Bob from Wisconsin, who had the misfortune to leave the school before this particular outing took place, and whose self-organized expedition met with failure before the summit due to area wildfires. It was a beautiful trip, guys. Hope you have the chance to make it to the Masaya crater some time.

* Current exchange rate is around 27 cordovas to the dollar.