¿Donde Esta El Baño?: November 2008

Hello again... Last Friday Erin, Jenna, and I had to make an unwanted, but entirely necessary, stop in Managua, Nicaragua´s big, busy capital city. (For clarification on this ¨Jenna¨character´s identity, see the previous post). We all needed to apply for Brazilian visas in order to be legally allowed into Brazil at the end of December, where we will make our big transition from Central to South America. We arrived at the Brazilian embassy and engaged in a bit of a debacle with the overly serious security guard at the perimeter of the facility. He claimed that the office was closed and wouldn´t let us in. Perhaps he assumed the three gringo girls couldn´t read the Spanish sign behind him that said ¨open¨... nor could we see the people in the office through the window. He also felt the need to debate what day of the week it happend to be and when the office might be open next. He held his position at the iron gate, but when we went to jump in some man´s pick-up truck to leave, he finally said it was OK for us to go in... what a guy. Our experience in the consolate was the opposite, thank the lord. Once we filled out the paper work they told us to return on Monday to pick up our visas. Normally they keep the passports for processing, but because of the intense political situation at the time and the craziness in the city, they said it was safer if we held onto them... The embassy guy also insisted on driving us himself to the bus station on the other side of town to get out of Managua and avoid the demonstrations. He left work and had his driver take us accross town in a massive escalade, which was the first real vehicle Erin and I had been in since we left Canada. When we arrived in Granada, we explored town and had a girl´s night out, which Erin blogged about below (sorry for the random order!)

After a relatively unproductive and lazy day on Saturday, we agreed not drink again that night. At sunset we walked down the big main street in the center of town that´s lined for over a kilometer lit with lamp-posts, palm trees, and cool restaurants, pubs, and cafe´s with outdoor patios on the walkway.

On this particular night there was some kind of horseshow parade or celebration and hundreds of cowboys and countless bands filled the street. At an Irish pub we got a ringside table right on the street, so close to the action we could feel the mist of the horse pee when he relieved himself just in front of us.

Considering that most of the riders juggled a beer in one hand and the reigns in the other, when some of them stood up on their saddles to dance, were were more concerned than entertained...

All in all, it was a great show, fun music, beautiful horses - stimulating enough to dissolve our earlier plan of not drinking (although Jenna took the responsible road and retired to bed). So Erin and I did what any logical people would do: went to the cheapest Nicaraguan restaurant in town and shared a ¨chicken¨burger and a bottle of rum. It was a classy place, indeed; the toilets flushed, there were only 2 beer bottles smashed on the floor in the duration of our stay, and at least the drunk man who fell off his bar stool managed to stand back up on his own.. what a trooper. After several shots it seemed appropriate to invite our waiter (the only employee who was super busy) to sit down and join us for a drink, which he oddly declined. When we left the restaurant, I said ¨thank you¨to the waiter, which where I´m from, is a sufficent acknowledgement when leaving a restaurant. However, Erin felt it was necessary to make flirty eyes and hug this guy... and she´s still confused as to why he proceeded to lick her neck.

We went to the local discotec, ¨El Club¨afterward where I promised Erin I´d somehow get us out of paying the steep $1.50 cover charge (which we actually couldn´t afford after spending all of our money on alcohol). When my rum-inspired charm didn´t work on the bouncers and they told us we had to pay, I pushed Erin forward, told her to run and we got lost in the crowd without having to empty our pockets. My parents must be so proud of me. Erin and I tore up the dancefloor and then relaxed in the back of the club in lovely white wicker rocking chairs... oh Central America...

On our way out, we met a charming Costa Rican man named Alfonso (who was fluent in English). He was in town on a business assignment - telecommunications, apparently - and we drilled him for a good hour with all of our questions about the complicated political history of Nicaragua and the Sandanista/Liberale conflict... we sure know how to sweet talk men. He introduced us to his business partner, Dago, and they took us to an ¨after party¨at a bar on the lakefront of Granada, which was literally on the water as the lake is abnormally high at this time. Despite the fact that NO ONE was there, the thick swarms of mosquitos kept us company. After some beers and dialogue now missing from my memory, the guys walked us back to our hostal at the reasonable hour of 5:00am. They invited us to a nearby lake the next day and told us to be ready at 9:00am.

In the morning, Erin, Jenna, and I were picked up by Dago and Alfonso in their fancy company car (2nd time in a real vehicle, this was a really big weekend for us). They took us for breakfast at a really nice hotel before driving to Masaya, a smaller town between Granada and Managua. We went to Lago de Apoyo, or what Erin referrs to as ¨Lago de Pollo,¨ which translates to ¨Chicken Lake.¨This is a beautiful crater lake formed when there was a massive volcanic erruption some time ago and filled with water. It´s surrounded by gorgeous mountains, which are the remaining sides of the crater, and other volcanoes can be seen in the distance. The water is crystal clear blue (no motors allowed in the lake) and was so warm - perfect for swimming. The guys arranged for us to spend the day at a luxury waterfront hotel where we relaxed all day and they treated us to lunch and some cocktails.

And after sampling a few Nicaraguan specials, Jenna took things to the next level by ordering us all double margaritas...

We had an amazing day at the lake and we all ended up a little rosy in the cheeks, possibly from the sun... more realistically from the booze...

That evening, the boys picked us up, yet again, to take us back to Masaya for dinner. We were introduced to their 3rd business partner, Andres, and then we all went back to Granada to go to this cool salsa bar with a live band.

The guys ever-so-generously kept the bottles of rum flowing at the table...

(Alfonso, Andres, and Dago)

(3-way rum shot... Jenna, the one who´s doing the shot, cleverly puts the salt on her own face.. here´s Erin explaining the shotty logic to her..)

(nope, couldn´t lick the salt off her face... so she gets Erin to do it)

After a third night of drinking, the guys offered to drive us back to Managua (where they work out of) for our visas on Monday. They took us to their ritzy appartment in a private neighbourhood where they cooked us breakfast then took us to the embassy... we´re still shocked at the generosity of these guys. We are now officially allowed to go into Brazil, as long as they don´t find the massive stash of cocain in my backpack at the border.

When we arrived back in Granada, we were surprised... or perhaps not surprised at all... to find that James was in town. He confessed how much he missed us and couldn´t live without us over a nice pizza dinner at an Italian restaurant that evening. The following day, Jenna, Erin, James, and I wandered around town and went to the museum/art gallery to learn about the history of Granada and see how the indigenous people lived.

Apparently these early people were the forefathers of cirque de soleil... Archiologists claim they tied and swung themselves on these poles for ¨recreation,¨...or what other people may consider torture...