Let me tell you something, travelers have a code. We share a passion that gives us plenty of joy, but there are plenty of hiccups that are bound to happen. You get your ipod stolen, you miss your bus and have to sleep in a park, you climb to the top of a mountain for a world renowned view only for it to be offer you the fog from some zombie movie. Sometimes things don't go your way, but overall its the action of being in motion, in different cultures and different environments that truly gives us our drive. We learn to appreciate the small things and what it means to be shit out of luck. In turn, travelers tend to have each others back. We share good (insert appropriate must have condiment here) from home, we don't judge each other for our oddities, we warn each other of bad hostels and even though we may have known each other for a day, we extend the offer to crash on one another's couch when the time comes.
Tegan Wade is a girl I knew in high school that always had a smile on her face, we were never really friends but realized after high school we really should have been great friends. Via Facebook I have been quite inspired by the path that she has found herself on and continues to be one of my favorite people to learn a few things even if only by photos on a computer screen. After a few status updates about Nicaragua, Teagan sent my a copy and paste from an email she sent her friend Megan that was working in the peace corps in Nicaragua about the must dos and sees. Totally unnecessary but totally awesome. Part of that email included a blurb from Megan telling me to contact her if I wanted any details on the cities she had listed. Being that not many people travel to the northern cities, I emailed Megan with some musts in Matagalpa and Esteli. Realizing we would be in the same place at the same time she offered me the extra bed at her boyfriends house as well as a tour of Matagalpa the next day. Amazing. I had never met this person, but she had enough trust in Teagan and the travelers code, that she was willing to go out of her way for a fellow person of the world. So I was off to meet Megan and her boyfriend Frank in Dario which is a tiny town on the way to Matagalpa. This trek would require four buses and 6 hours of travel time, but Megan sent me an email with step by step instructions at each town I would have to transfer in. So I said goodbye to my friends in San Juan Del Sur and started on my trek via the infamous and sometimes sketchy chicken buses..
The bus ride to Ciudad Dario was among the most humbling experiences of my life. The Nica’s have an insane ability to utilize space on modes of transportation. The bus was so crowded with people, furniture, corn, car tires and my favorite: live chickens that get tied into pink plastic bags that people carry like a hand bag, to their next destination which is most likely where the chicken will go to chicken heaven. This is why backpackers call these buses chicken buses. After demanding I keep my bag with me and not letting one of the bus dudes throw my bag on top of the bus, the ride from San Juan Del Sur to Rivas was easy and not too crowded. Rivas to Mayasa was more interesting, breast feeding and getting spit on in the face were two occasions that I assumed were normal. The bus from Mayasa to Tipitapa was when the humbling process began. When the bus pulled up I just starred thinking “I’ve definitely squeezed in on a chicken bus before, but this is straight up impossible. The bus was bursting at the seams and I was certain this handy-down yellow bus from America was going to see its last chicken today. Without warning the bus dude practically made me jump with a loud “a donde vas”, a millisecond after a responded with “Tipitapa” he grabbed my hand and somehow I acquired the Nica ability to alter physics and we were off. I was smashed up against the front window for a majority of the time, trying not to get in the way of the drivers shifting. Lastly, the bus from Tipitapa to Dario made my heart melt. The money taker was trying to charge me the gringo tax, and I argued with him “veinte, no venite cinco cordobas” he accepted my argument but in turn he ignored me when I asked if he could let me know when we got to Dario. Overhearing the grumble, two extremely lovely Nica's took me under their wing. One lady pulled me in the seat next her and gave me some hand motions that translated as "I will tell you".
When we got to Dario the lady signaled that this was my stop. Now I just needed to find the park that Megan said to meet her in. I asked a man that was getting off the bus “de donde la parque” but instead answered with a lot more spanish than I actually knew but we did successfully communicate that I had mi amigas telefono numbre and he let me use his phone. After getting directions to the park from Megan he waved goodbye. Maybe he thought it was too dangerous to walk alone o the park, but it seemed safe enough. I will never know what he said.
Megan and her boyfriend Frank were awesome.
(adorably matching university t-shirts that they claim to have not done on purpose)
We dropped off my bag at Franks then went to eat tacos con pollo with topajads which is chicken tacos with friend bananas that kinda resemble potatoe chips. So good. Oh what was the price for a huge meal and a drink? 40 cordobas which is less than $2. You can barely get a good cup of coffee in Portland for that price. After indulging we walked around Dario which is a small town nestled in the mountains and made the temperature much more enjoyable. Frank ran into one of his friends that was working on the church bell tower and asked if we wanted a VIP tour. No one has been allowed up there in a long time, so this added to my "getting off the beaten track". Not only was the view incredible, but we also discovered an owls nest! Rad.
After gawking over the view from the church tower, one of my recent new dreams came true. There’s this wonderful thing that comes in a bag that only the locals really know where to get them. I've heard about it from only a few people that have been in the country for awhile. You have to know which house sells it and after handing them a few cordobas through their window they hand you a bag of joy. No its not drugs silly, its heldo. Basically a milkshake in a bag made from fresh and local ingredients. Mine was coconut and it was everything I hoped and dreamed it to be.
The rest of the night was needed, chilaxando. San Juan Del Sur killed me with 6 days of "chica especial" of any vodka or rum drink free until 12pm. Dexter on my laptop and a clean bed nestled in Frank's apartment was everything I could want.
Matagalpa
Megan had to go to Matagalpa the next day for a super important, cool peace corps meeting. Frank offered to show me around for the morning and we would meet up with Megan later that afternoon for lunch. Matagalpa is fairly small, we walked the main streets in about 30 minutes as he pointed out plenty of places to poke around. Northen Nicaragua is known for their coffee so we stopped in at Baristas and chatted over un cafe frio.
Megan met us at a few hours later for lunch when the downpour hit. Thats when Megan and I justified in sharing a piece of cake and coffee while we waited for it to past. The rain, as well as the coffee was comforting, a taste of home that made me smile. They left after the rain slowed and gave them the biggest hugs ever. I felt very grateful to have crossed paths with these people who were basically strangers and had gone out of their way to help me out. Maybe humanity isn't so bad.
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