A Journey to Nicaragua . 1. 1
A Maite , porque sí
“ ( Con Carmen tal vez ) “
E. Cardenal
, “ Las Insulas Extrañas “ , p. 31
EL CASTILLO , RIO SAN JUAN de
NICARAGUA
On a roof-hung
hammock-chair swinging upon my terrace perched over the Rio San Juan ,
catching a glimpse of the great Sabalos
Reales ( tarpons ) as they swirl out of the water in nascent a leap, proud to have fought their way upstream the
rapids , boasting the bend of their back and their tail for a second . They are
protected by a fishing ban and , sure , are plenty . Must be a meter or more
long from what I can peek .
Good idea to drop at the Luna Hotel when heading to the
Tropical . Wasn't on the guide , it's new , but it is located on the perfect
spot , just at the beginning of the rapids whereas the Tropical happens to sit
upon their end . Earwatching the ever rolling waters , riverrun , I voice the rolling rs of Finnegan’s
Wake , gazing the Sabalos ,
drinking my rhum at night smoking a cigar , great place El Castillo .
That's where a 17 years old Carolina de Herrera launched a
winning salvo upon the Brits in 1762 , that's also where , in 1780 ,a young
Horatio Nelson managed to take the Castillo and hence the great Lago Cocibolca
. As a good strategist , he realized he could cut the Spanish Empire in two halves
. At Trafalgar , he was to give it a deadly blow , leaving to Admiral
Cochrane's squadron alongside the Chilean Coast the final task of the siege of
El Callao .
Well, don't remember when , but it was a brilliant decision
to hire a private shuttle in Granada to get to San Carlos and a better one to
stop at San Miguelito , thanks to a tip from Cardenal , “ San Miguelito . Un pueblo muy bonito , como San Carlos era
muy feo . “
As soon as you enter Chontales everything is beautiful ,
mountainous and lush green beauty , and genuine Nicaragua , won't have enough
time to see it . Then you enter the Rio San Juan Dpt. and its protected areas , almost everything
. Good car , AC and better couple of
chaps , the driver and a friend of his . You always learn a lot when talking to
them . A cabdriver who drove me from Rivas to Granada for twenty bucks told me
you can get a girl for this price . Don't know , not even tried ..
At San Miguelito , the best bet is the Hotel Cocibolca , a
large wooden mansion , as matured as a good scotch, right on the lake by the
muelle , provided you get a room with a private terrace upon the Lago ,
probably the best view of Ometepe , even
though San Jorge is perfect to stare the cone of the Concepción .Very basic ,
yet the common lavatories and showers are OK , three of each in a row . This is
my first task when arriving , securing the hotel thing . The second is to ask
the locals for " el bar que cierra
más tarde " , securing my late evening Flor de Caña half bottle . A
frequent con is their beastly music volume , not to mention the music itself .
I can't stand pop music anymore , be it Anglo-Saxon , Hispanic or whatever else
. Only at the Jinocuba , Jinotega , and at the beautiful Indio Viejo ,
Moyogalpa , did they play great Cuban music , at a decent volume .
I hired a boat tour to the Humedales , always the most expensive part of the trip . Nice , but
no monkeys to be seen nor gators , some fine birds and large iguanas . The
fauna show requires to get there at twilight , i.e. uncivilized hours , not my cup of tea .
Afterwards , they rest on hidden branches
.
Next morning , i.e. civilised hours , took a cab to el
Empalme , then a bus to San Carlos , the wrong one , type of it's a long way to Tiperarry , stopped
everywhere to anyone just waving for it . San Carlos is a shabby , filthy place
but I went to the excellent small Grand Lago Hotel , a stone throw from the
quayside . Great dinner and subsequent rum bottle at the Kaoma open terrace .
Later , on my way back from the archipelago , I was to find a fabulous sopa de pescado at a little kiosk just by
the Solentiname bound ships quay . One of my best soups ever , told them that I
came from the Basque Country where they cook excellent fish soup , but that
theirs was unique , she uses cow and coco milks . Second time I have the soup
of my life in Nicaragua , the first one was at Matagalpa’s “ Happy “ a small
restaurant on Plaza Ruben Darío where I enjoyed that outstanding “ Sopa
Campesina Italiana “.
Then I sailed to the Paradise on Earth . Suffice it to say
that when you stay a few days in those small isles , you can just but
acknowledge that this is God's or Mother Nature's , acc. to your beliefs ,
creation tamed by a great Christian poet ,Ernesto Cardenal , himself a great
reader of an Everest of a poet , Juan de la Cruz .
I happened to be reading Cardenal's " Las Insulas Extrañas " , the story and the history of
the Comunidad he founded there changing the lives of the inhabitants , for the
better , from dire poverty and ignorance to their current condition , earning a
good life from fishing , cattle-breeding , agriculture , everything grows
luxuriantly there but also from their art , paintings known worldwide , and
controlled tourism , boat tours and so on .
As I happened to be reading Cardenal , it also happens that
now I'd rather believe this is God's creation . One day as I was strolling
along these well paved paths , no cars on the isles , I entered the lovely ,
humble yet merry ( paintings ) church and standing in front of the painted
altar and Cardenal's plaster Christ
behind , I bowed and told Him : "
Perdona mi soberbia , Padre " and
signed myself , like Shoigu , a Buddhist , signed himself when opening the last
Great Military Parade on Red Square . Then I added : " Ayudála , Padre " in remembrance of my ex who's having a really nasty time with
her boyfriend rotten by a cancer. [1]
Which reminds me of a certain night in Conil . I fell back
down my whole marble staircase .Could have broken my skull or spine , yet was
lucky enough to roll down upon my left ribs which endured the hard steps and
the subsequent pain . When I landed at the bottom , I looked up , at heaven and
just said “ gracias “ . One is aware of
Quevedo’s “ nacer es empezar a
morir “ ( La Cuna y la Sepultura ) yet , when smelling the end , one would
also like to hope that “morir es empezar
a renacer “ , definitely a better option than a black empty hole .
Besides , women have the gift of giving birth . A few of
them have the gift to offer you a rebirth within them as I experienced it when
fifty four years old .
So a Christian
poet , but also someone familiar with studies of Love , (Stendhal , Ortega ) and as he chiselled it “ Hiciste que las amara tanto , para que
después , con este corazón enamorado , te amara más a Vos “ . One
should begin with his marvellous “ Mi Primer Amor “ apud “ Los
Años de Granada “ . You feel Love , you smell it in Solentiname .
A Christian poet
, but also an adept of “ Un Marxismo con
San Juan de la Cruz “ . “ En el Nuevo Testamento hay una palabra griega ,
KOINONÍA , que es como decir comunismo ( y de allí viene la palabra comunismo )
y ésta es usada para designar la eucaristía , la comunidad de bienes , y la
unión de Dios y los hombres . Y según san Juan Crisóstomo lo más perfecto del
cristianismo es la búsqueda de la KOINONÍA : el tener las cosas en común .
Por eso Marx y Engels encontraron que el
cristianismo primitivo era una de las fuentes de las reformas sociales . Y
Engels dice que ese cristianismo es “ uno de los elementos más revolucionarios
de la historia del espíritu humano “ , y encuentra en él “ curiosos puntos de
contacto con el movimiento obrero moderno “ .
(… ) Y Tertuliano lo dice , no sin ironía , a los
paganos : “ Los cristianos compartimos todo en común , con excepción de
nuestras mujeres . Entre vosotros , por el contrario , son ellas lo único que
tenéis en común “ .
Hence the Community and its fundamental principles .
A Christian poet , but also someone familiar with vernacular
, Indian cultures . “
Los Miskitos en Nicaragua tienen una palabra muy bella para esto . Comúnmente a
la revolución le llaman rivolusan , palabra obviamente tomada del inglés
revolution . Pero cuando yo era ministro de Cultura descubrí que ellos tienen
una palabra aborigen para decir revolución , y es aisúkanka : que quiere decir
muda o cambio de piel , como el de las culebras y algunos otros animales .”
Hence the failed armed assault against the Guardia Nacional
Fort at San Carlos . The Community was razed to the ground and the Padre was
outlawed .
Here , time has come for a short break . Let’s switch languages .
Gran poeta
místico , gran poeta a secas , antropólogo y teórico adepto del método de Marx
y Engels para analizar la realidad , evito lo de “ marxista “ siguiendo al
viejo Karl que contestando a un periodista imbécil , lo son casi todos , dijo
eso de “ yo no soy marxista “ , historiador , filósofo , epistemólogo ( El “
Cantico “ y la Física ) , teólogo y estudioso del Amor .
Aquí dejando lo
de la poesía mística a la suma sacerdotisa , Luce López Baralt , cabe recalcar
que todos estos cabos o especialidades o talentos quedan cementados en un
sistema rotundo de coherencia y eso que hay dos planos difíciles de equiparar ,
el paso de la filosofía a la teología .
Pero hay un peldaño o pasarela que dejo para el final .
En las “Insulas “ se extiende bastante en cómo
llegó al marxismo por su lectura del Evangelio . Bien , pero yo veo otra cosa ,
tanto por los “ Poemas Indios “ como
por muchas páginas de “ Insulas “ , y
me parece anterior , originaria . De su estudio profundo de las culturas Indias
, de su convivencia con varios pueblos , supo discernir tempranamente que las
sociedades precolombinas eran comunistas , a cada uno según sus necesidades .
Con la salvedad de los Nazi-Aztecas (
Poemas…) y una tardía degeneración Maya . Que la propiedad privada de la tierra y sus frutos es para ellos
inconcebible , es más constituye una afrenta a los dioses y a la Madre Tierra ,
otra diosa . Comunismo , nada de socialismo , e Ecología , por llamarlo de
algún modo , porque nuestra ecología no es sino mala conciencia , en ellos es
fundamental en el pleno sentido de la palabra , bueno digamos fundacional , lo
viví donde los Ramas .
Que de ahí pasará
a su peculiar lectura del Evangelio y
por ahí pasará al marxismo , sí , y es de una coherencia cabal . Para después ,
mediante la fundación de la Comunidad de Solentiname , empezar con esas
lecturas colectivas del Evangelio , dando él alguna reseña histórica o
teológica para enfrentar ciertos asuntos situándolos , pero quedando
estupefacto de como campesinos mestizos poco ilustrados resolvían ciertos
pasajes de delicada interpretación para generaciones de curtidos teólogos .
Quedó recogido en “ El Evangelio de
Solentiname “ , que leído por toda Iberoamérica y por el mundo entero difundió un mensaje
revolucionario .
Y , ahí , pasa de
la teoría a la praxis , de nuevo todo
se va enhebrando con una coherencia cabal , de una lógica asombrosa . Y no duda
cuando el caso lo requiere , Somozalandia por ejemplo , en apoyar sin duda
alguna , la lucha armada .
Y de ahí a la
Teología de la Liberación . No le gusta el término , prefiere el de “ Teología de la Revolución “ , ( “ Insulas
“ , p. 315 ).
Sin perder de
vista que una sociedad comunista según los preceptos que él ve en su Evangelio
bien sería el Paraíso sobre la Tierra . El prodigio es que lo consiguió en
Solentiname y quedan las huellas , profundas .
Entonces , ¿
pasar del plano teoría-praxis al plano teológico ? Pues , sí hay una pasarela , tuve la suerte
de empezar mi lectura de Cardenal por “
Los Años de Granada “ y su
esplendoroso “Mi Primer Amor “ . Bendita Carmen
Chamorro , eras tan bella que sucumbió como un poseso y se tiró a la piscina
sin mirar si había agua . El gran Amor no admite remilgos , prudencias o
reservas . O te das entero o nada . Bueno el sucedáneo al uso que no tiene nada
que ver .
Queda en la
página 31 de “ Insulas “ ese estremecedor “ Con Carmen , tal vez” y ya han pasado años pero ahí sigue .
Si bien , unas líneas más abajo , todo queda recogido en
“Hiciste que las amara tanto , para que después ,
con este corazón enamorado , te amara más a Vos “ .
De nuevo , una
coherencia cabal , el Amor es la pasarela , el Amor es el cemento del sistema ,
el Amor canta en Solentiname .
Sólo cabe añadir
que tanto en amores como en poesía a secas se juntan Cardenal y su cómplice
Thomas Merton . Éste llego a fugarse de la Trapa para reunirse con alguna amada
.
Termino la
digresión con algunos versos suyos , casi un haiku :
“ One bird sits still
Watching the work of
God ;
One turning leaf ,
Two falling blossoms ,
Ten circles upon the
pond . “ ( Stranger )
Just have had a very good lunch downstream , róbalo, a local fish . Should try to remember or rather
not to forget their names róbalo ,
guapote , gaspar ,etc…. Same thing when I was along the Paraná , just
remember the pacú , that little
bastard , some cousin of the piranhas , has a very peculiar habit , it eats
gentlemen’s testicles . I bathed there without further damage , anyway
.Downstream , quiet waters , quiet landscape with a herd of cows past the Rio ,
bucolic , Beatus Ille . I like Nica
cows and horses , here they are clean and free , pasture plentiful , they look
at you tenderly . Northwards , due to the heat , Leon and around especially ,
they are the indolence incarnated , so are dogs and people too . Only the cats
keep being cats , feline and beautiful . But let’s roll back to the Isles .
Solentiname in Nahuatl means “Wall of Partridges “ , even though
partridges there might be , it makes little sense . Cardenal recalls how he
came upon the original name of
Çelentiname ; then later as he was in Sweden with some Nahuatl linguist ,
she told him it meant “ Lugar de
Hospedaje “ . It makes sense as we know that Maya traders had a rest there
while on their way to Panama . By the way , he found it in Juan Vazquez de
Coronado’s letter to the King . Coronado
, says he , was “ el único conquistador
humanista . Había estudiado en la Universidad de Salamanca , donde el padre
Victoria enseñaba que república era sólo una comunidad perfecta ; y así fundó
en Costa Rica una comunidad de Españoles y naturales , no sometiendo a los
Indios por la fuerza , sino atrayéndolos por medio de negociación y trueque . “ .
So , instead of going to Mancarrón directly , I stopped at
San Fernando , the best place for the sunsets , at Hostal Celentiname’s pier .
About a five minutes walk from the tiny village , it is surrounded by lush
gardens , you walk down a few stairs and your private beach is there , two
splendid guacamayos were wandering
freely in the big open living room, Paco , the husband and Yuri his mate , a
Ruskii parrot ? In Granada my favourite money changer worked at home and he
introduced me to his cat Putin . Then ,
high trees full of birds , those marvellous oropéndolas , black with a bright yellow tail and a partial white
mask . Beautiful but a plague they eat papayas , mangos , everything fruit .
Cardenal recalls how they had to shoot them so that they flew away not to come
back . They are back again , by the way
and you do hear them , if this is a song , it must be dodecaphonic . I learnt
later , reading the book , that I had been staying at doña María Guevara’s
place . That was when I was staying at Hotel La Comunidad , a tourist extension
of the Comunidad with its church ,
museum and Ernesto Cardenal library , kitchen , small houses , etc.. everything
scattered within a gardened space full of flowers , trees , colours , scents ,
cats , dogs , pavos reales ( peafowls
) , hens , cocks and chickens , free . La Comunidad .
Which is managed by doña Esperanza Guevara , Maria’s sister
who is in charge of operating the Community and keeping it alive acc. to the
principles of its foundation . Cardenal’s lieutenant , so to speak . He is old
now and lives in Managua .
I had most interesting conversations with her . For , just
past the church I noticed some small posters signed by the Padre : “ Alerta , nos están robando el “ Mancarrón
“ ( the first and best hotel on the island , a serious source of income ) .
No ayude a los ladrones ! “ . And
this was our first topic . She explained that the hotel had been occupied
illegally by some bastard , a German tour operator , with full police
assistance and a “ lead from behind “ of Rosario Murillo , Ortega’s wife . She
is the one who “ lleva los pantalones “
as they say in Spanish .
This I knew because before heading South , I had heard about
the Movimiento de Renovación Sandinista , the MRS , watched Diputado
Victor Hugo Tinoco’s dramatic speech at the Asamblea
Nacional . Here’s the link
And another link about Tinoco .
I asked her about the tribunals , as the hotel is on the
Foundation’s property and duly registered , and she told me that the Judiciary
was rotten . What decides everything is doña Rosario’s phone call. She pretends
to be a poet , was a schoolteacher actually , and she is jealous of the great
poet Cardenal is . By the way , Cardenal was the first to denounce the
Stalinist deviance of Ortega’s direction of the Sandinista Front , leaving both
the Ministry and the Front . In 1994 , if I remember well.
Later , she told me that five years ago and during several
days Cardenal knew he was going to be thrown in jail . Now when he travels
abroad and is asked to talk about the situation in Nica , he refuses any answer
: “ Quiero volver a mi país , y si
contesto me van a echar preso “ .
But the worst was to come later . The Guevaras , Donald is
one of the three martyrs of Solentimane , butchered by the Guardia Nacional
after a failed assault against San Carlos Fort .
Alejandro , member of the Community and a great painter ,
was promoted to Governor of the Rio San Juan Dpt.. He died in a dubious road
accident , etc..
That day , I was coming back from another island and I knew
they were commemorating one of the dead , their tomb nearby , surrounded by
children toys , toboggans , etc..,was flowered , the red and black flag flying
and I stepped into the church . The audience : a good bunch of children ,
school age . Doña Esperanza was sitting and silent .
A young woman , duly agit-prop trained , had the floor . She asked : “ sabeis los nombres de los martires ?
- Children answer – Sabeis que
murieron para que vosotros no conozcáis más guerra , más muertes , para que
tengáis Sanidad y Escolaridad gratis , trabajo …”
-Children : Sí -
Agit Prop : “ Y sabeis que todo
esto se mantiene gracias a la labor del gobierno y de su Pte , Cómo se llama el
Pte ? Daniel , Daniel Ortega .
- Children : repeating .
Later , we had a chat
, doña Esperanza and myself . We agreed on everything , she added that if
someone knew the whole picture by heart , that was her . But she had to remain
silent , otherwise no aid , no funds , and may be worse .
Notwithstanding which , this is the Paradise on Earth . Too
beautiful , too quiet and lively at the same time . Anyone getting there should
bring the book and read it there .
Stayed five nights at the Comunidad , hours in the Library where I picked a great “ Historia de la Gran Guerra Patriotica “
, ed. Progreso , Moscow , 1970 . Excellent maps and pictures , remarkable
essays about a topic I know well . Curiously , no copy of “ Las Insulas Extrañas “ . Met a girl from Huelva who was somehow
working there , she told me that the most one can expect from the Immigration
is a year long visa , so farewell my projects of working with some NGO or
mission in a remote place with the Indians .
Had a boat ride to La Venada , the long stretched island
where people live in scattered homes , no village . Met the Aurellanos , a
dynasty of painters , and their art .
On my way back , I returned to Hostal Celentimane and had
half a sunset from San Fernando , it was partly cloudy upon the Guatuzos
wetlands . In fact , since I left San Carlos : clouds and rain and so it was to
be all along the Rio San Juan up to now on the Caribbean coast ; well , a
perfect temperature .
The panga picked me up at the pier and dropped me at San
Carlos where I boarded a colectivo sailing downstream the great Rio . Almost
three hours and I stopped at Boca de Sábalos , tributary after tributary the
river grows larger and larger and the Hotel Sábalos is nested on stilts just
upon a commanding view of the mighty Rio . Rooms rowing along a large terrace
upon the water, everything wooden , so is the open dining room with the Sábalos
on its left . From then on , everything on stilts , I’m writing on another
terrace , in San Juan del Norte , upon the Indio River hearing both the river
and the Caribbean waves behind the opposite margin ; mangroves and woods you
have to cross to get to the beach , where you can bathe up to your knees and no
further , bull sharks a plenty . No swimming across the rio either , caimans
you won’t see , yet I’m told that a large populace inhabits those waters , at
night they come looking for garbage .
From the hotel you
cross the Sábalos for two cordobas and get to a scruffy set of filthy houses
along a dirty unpaved road , everything on sale yet nothing worth buying , many
people and nothing . I cross back and pay a visit to a carpenter’s shop where
they are just giving the final coat of paint to a slender dugout canoe .
Formerly , the whole job was handmade with an axe , now they use saws to begin
with . Those “dorys “ are the elegance supreme , besides they’re very swift .
Exquisitely managed by Mariela , the hotel boasts the best
restaurant along the river but when I ask her about the jumbo river shrimps she
tells me : ain’t blue no more .
Extinguished , not due to overfishing even though overfishing there was ; the
hidden culprit lies in the waters of Ticas tributaries . The “green “ Costa
Rica must have sold itself to Monsanto and its poisons , its rivers full of
pesticides have been the death warrant of the Rio’s camarones . It does make sense since my first dinner at the great
Hostal Familiar in San Juan was camarones
de rio , only that they catch them in the Río Indio , located entirely on
Rama territory , a reserve . When I told the lady , never seen such shrimps ,
they’re huge ! She replied : no , these ones are rather small . Well, the real
thing must be lobster-sized .
On my first night I shared the hotel with an English couple
as quiet as my beloved English countryside . Heaven . Next day Hell as a bunch of local bastards invaded the
hotel with their load of wives and urchins shouting all over the place , more
than twenty they were , piling up by the dozen in one room . Went out for
dinner at a cheaper joint , I suppose and it was Heaven again . Till they came
back , drunken . Next morning , general wake up at 5.30 . And they left soon
after . At 10 a.m. , I took the expresso barge to El Castillo . There , I spent
two more nights waiting for the Tuesday expresso to San Juan . A five hours
trip with military control posts checking passports four times with a final
check , luggage included , at the small San Juan harbour . Even though the Rio
is fully Nica , after El Castillo , its right bank is the border and Nicas and
Ticos don’t love each other very much. Here goes a sample ,a Tico one
So the place is heavily patrolled by the military , both
navy and army . No jokes !
Went out of the harbour and spent a whole hour looking for
the Monkey Hotel , locals knew nothing , usual in Nica ; for them , no matter
what , you’re just one more Gringo ,
they send you to the wrong direction , ask North and you’re South bound ,
peculiar Nica humour ? Sweating among sordid houses scattered amidst swamps , I
finally found it to see it was closed . By the way, no signs In San Juan ,
you’ve got to guess where the hotel is . I sat for some lunch at the Tucan ,
went to the loo , may be the filthiest I’ve ever seen , glanced very dirty
rooms on my way and had a bad pork dish . She charged me more than deserved and
offered her rooms , I almost barked a “No , gracias “ and took my leave to find the Hostal Familiar by
the river . So at first , a very nasty impression of San Juan del Norte , was
about to take a boat back to San Carlos . But when I was given a superb room
with a terrace upon the Rio Indio hearing the sea in front of me , everything
changed , a “coup de foudre” and that
was before a grand dinner . The lady called Alicia Mc Rae from the Rama
Community and I arranged a two nights trip upstream the Rio for four hundred
dollars . This is the rate of the Rio Indio Lodge , a luxury resort upon a
lagoon nearby for wealthy fishing maniacs .
Mestizos guides also offer the tour but the Ramas know every
inch of their territory , which is the first reason why I chose Alicia’s
services . Then , as she immediately switched to English , although she can
speak some Spanish , I realized that Rio San Juan may be a border between North , Nicaragua , and South , Costa
Rica , but it is also partly a link and partly a hidden border between East and
West , between the Caribbean Autonomous Regions
, a good half of the country by square miles , and Nicaragua properly
said . I was confirmed in that feeling when listening to an after dinner chat at Margarito and Juanita’s
home deep upstream in the jungle , it went about politics from what I could
guess ( Gobierno , Gobierno Municipal
Rama-Kriol , Instituciones , Spanish words inserted into their language ) ,
they clearly referred to the Nicaraguans as
“Spaniards “ , and they do not trust them at all . The same all along
the coast as far as Honduras , not to mention the hinterland as far as the
forest reaches . Armed clashes are reported
near Waspam between Miskitos and “ colonos “ who are illegally seizing
their land , burning their homes . The Ramas are very vigilant and currently ,
thanks to a coalition with the creole ( “ kriol “ ) Community they control the
Municipal Government , ensuring their role as the Guardians of the Forest .
They do not allow non-Rama settling in their territory , a big one getting as
far as the south of Bluefields , where the largest Rama Community resides in
Rama Key , some 1500 of them . In San Juan , some 150 . But as Alicia told me ,
they had to fight to defend their rights , in 1988 or 1998 , don’t remember .
She says , now we are protected by the law , which recognizes the whole land as
ours exclusively , I replied : OK , but beware , laws can be changed and big
money buys many a guy in power . Yet , I’m optimistic because ruling classes
realize the potential of genuine eco-tourism here , genuine Nicaragua versus “
green “ Monsanto polluted Costa Rica . People too, you notice it everywhere
along the Rio San Juan , they’re proud of their protected areas and definitely
want to keep them virgin , supported by
a controlled tourism of quality .
So we left next morning at decent hours , Ramas don’t wake
up like hens Nica style , in a long dory with Marcelino operating the out board
engine . By the way , but for your vices and addictions , i.e. tobacco and rhum
in my case , they provide everything , food , water , a slim mattress and
cotton sheets , even big plastic sheets lest it rain , even toilet paper and
rubber boots . A long stretch of the Indio river runs parallel to the Caribbean
shore bordered by low mangroves and a curtain of trees , then it begins snaking
its way through the jungle as the margins get higher and so do the trees ,
swamps no more ; we pass several tributary creeks , a small one leading to the
Manatee Lagoon , another large one to the Forbidden Area . Some taboo ? I ask
several times about their religion and beliefs before they went Christian . No
way , just replies she is Moravian as most of them are and leaves me with a
dubious “ we’re Christian from times immemorial “ or so it seems
We spot turtles , the yellow and the black one plus another
one , small crocodiles about a meter long , they cannot eat you but must be a
very serious bite that of these Shylock gators , no swimming . Magnificent
birdlife , they’ve got a large array of snakes , boas included , manatees ,
wild hogs , jaguars , pumas and so on . The iguanas plunge into the water from
their branches , and on the muddy shores there are some small shiny emerald
green ones , later Margarito tells me that at a given time of the year they
turn red . Beautiful !
As to the monkeys , the first one we met was light brown , a
pregnant female acc.to Alicia , she greeted us with a shot of shit , a big load
, by the way . Then some tailless grey ones played some bridge express leap
game wherever the branches of one side met the opposite ones above the water .
Then the black howling ones , the congos ,who hail you from afar , on their
enormous trees .
We get to the first Rama house , they like to live on their
own , isolated , the biggest agglomeration is in Makenge , upstream , where
three families live part of the year as they have settled in San Juan’s Rama
district . Most houses are on stilts , made with superb hard wood and palm
roofs , palm or whatever else . Then we stop at
Encanto where we are going to spend the night . A house of locals by the
river , we just greet and climb to another small house , very wide planks of
mahogany or of some cousin , well cut , everything on stilts . Marcelino even
brings my backpack and everything else . The kitchen and the dining room is a
few yards away and is an example of their former dwelling places . Ground level
earth floor, a problem with snakes . The kitchen is most interesting , some
kind of large hybrid thing , half table half open deep chest which they fill
with mud , shaping the centre as a large hollow depression where they light a
good fire , two pieces of iron supporting a grid and you’re done to boil
anything upon the flames and to roost anything on the sides , they use a
special big leaf to wrap fish or meat and if boiling is quick business, this is a longer and gentler process as it
just gets heat from aside , the leaf gives a special taste to your roast beef
if any . So the Ramas without going to Frankfurt were familiar with the Bauhaus “ function
makes the design “. Impressive and so simple !
The house below has solar powered light , but the kitchen
hasn’t , so we have dinner before sunset . Then we keep chatting in the dark .
I am sitting at the table and suddenly Alicia lights her torch lamp pointing it
to a snake which was about a meter from my feet , it retreats yet not so much
staying on the edge of the house . A meter long at least , white , black and
brown , beautiful . She tells me it is dangerous . These people have a sixth
sense of the jungle and when they take you in charge they really take care of
you . Tonight , they are going to sleep on the terrace , guarding my door .
As time goes by , Alicia teaches me a lot . Wood , for
instance , for their dorys they only
use one tree which is tender enough to dig out without toiling as beasts . For
all other purposes related to water , harpoons , arrows , shrimp traps , etc..
, they only use makenge not to spoil
the water as they have known for centuries that all other woods poison the
water and the fish . That is knowledge , centuries of observation .
Before she has taught me to identify the sounds of the
jungle by night . This is a bird , name , and that is the rattle snake : a
single bell like sound , at least it warns . I suppose that when , attacking it
is a volley of bells. Now , they are just warning , here we are and they are
very near . As soon as the sun sets , this is the realm of snakes , not the
best time to wander around , and as soon as the sun rises , they go silent to
their holes .
I keep awake all night long fascinated by that beautiful
music . Next morning , breakfast at decent hours and we leave for Cantagallo .
We make a stop at a place with three houses , she just greets at the first one
, then chats with a woman of the second one where I see a fair haired blue-eyed
young lady . She just greets with a nod . I ask Alicia later , she is American and has been living there for six
years . I ask whether she teaches or so . No , no she just lives here and is
married to a Rama boy . As she already told me that Ramas don’t like speaking a
lot , I see that the Gringa really went Rama , not a word , just a gentle smile . Then she chats again
with the lady of the third house , she introduces me to her telling that she is
a princess , they have a king , by the way . Besides , Alicia must be the
exception to the rule , she speaks “ por los codos “ . We board the canoe again
, and the river margins get higher and higher , steep muddy ones you have to
climb carefully because when the waters rise , they rise several meters and
destroy the wooden embankments and stairs . We finally get to Cantagallo which
is just the spot from where a track leads to some basaltic heights , a three
hours harsh march , first flat but very muddy , then you climb . Rama tradition
say that this was the base of some pyramid . ? I try , but give it up after
some ten meters , as I bury my rubber boots in the mud at every step . They are
barefooted , the best way , but I dare
not lest a snake should appear .
So , we turn downstream for a while till reaching
Margarito’s home where we are to spend
this second night . Nice guy , and beautiful , so his wife , in spite of
having given birth to seven children . One daughter only but a ten years old
Indian beauty , slender and a magnificent face . English spoken , their own
creole version and Rama , of course . No Spanish . Now that they have solar-powered light , they
can have long chats till 10 pm , the sun sets around 5.30 p.m. , I just watch
them as I understand nothing . By the way , I asked Alicia whether the American
girl had learnt their language and she told me : no, we don’t like teaching it
to strangers .
They are also very clean , they sport a very long hair both
men and women , so thin that they can gather it in a tight small bun . They’ve
got plenty of water , just take it from the river , here the current is swift and the water
unpolluted , you can even drink it , besides there are no crocodiles , they
like still waters and I had several delicious baths , cool water . Got their loos , too , at a
prudent distance . I suspect they set the chair upon some small stream pouring
in the river , because I smelled nothing .,
At Encanto I first went to the forest by a small pool of
clear water and used some big leaves first . Then next morning , I used the
cabin . At Margarito’s place , there were two parallel big branches just upon
the río , the best place .
I think the kids have never seen a school , yet they can
read , their parents must teach them . I had several chats with Margarito , a
perfect gentleman who could talk about many topics and at night there was a
very serious political debate , I guess that Alicia gave them the news from the
city .
You may read that they are desperately poor , well , that’s
according to your point of view , if you mean having dinner downtown and pay
the bill with a credit card , sure , but so are the majority of Nicas . But if
you see them in their realm , plenty of fish in the river , plenty of game in the
forest , all kind of fruit everywhere , beginning by their garden , roosters ,
hens and chicken all around , Margarito grows rice and beans , wood as fuel for
the kitchen : free , electricity solar powered , no bloody cell phones needed
as there is no coverage , so the kids grow smarter than their poor city fellows
, no taxes , no rent , the land is theirs , besides he doesn’t smoke nor drinks
he alcohol , must have their things , mushrooms , etc…but he didn’t tell me .
Plenty of leisure time . Seems to me that this is luxury , the real one .
We left at 9.30 next morning , a four hours trip downstream
with some heavy rain from time to time . I could see a shrimp trap when Alicia
stopped to buy some , makenge wood ,
Again a Caribbean Bauhaus .
The Ramas : Freedom . Of course , those I saw are used to tourists and
somehow know about the outside world . But , deeper and further in the huge
rainforest there must be nuclei which have never seen white men , really
primitive Indians .
Now , I’m trapped in San Juan till next Wednesday when the
weekly panga sails to Bluefields which I long to see . I spend most of my time at the hotel terraces , San Juan
is a shadow town , small , no streets , paths only , no cars , boat only . Some
kind of mini Manaus , they had no opera but Greytown was a multinational trade
centre , San Juan at the beginning of the XXth century was a prosperous modern city till the companies that began
building the Canal and a railroad through the jungle went bankrupt and
everybody got away leaving a ghost town . Nothing is left from these straight
streets and beautiful wooden houses , only photographs . Cardenal came here in
the sixties , great description including the remembrances of an old lady who
knew it from 1890 , jump to “ Insulas .. “p. 145 . Now , it is rather a village
, you’ve got the basic things , but don’t ask for more . There are fleas in the
streets at places where infested dogs lie , caught several the other day at the
outdoor Internet spot , now I wear shorts out of the hotel . Curiously enough
there are no mosquitoes , those zancudos
, and it is swampy . Strange place , but it has caught me under its spell .
Just feel fine and very relaxed . Three nights left before heading to
Bluefields , if the weather allows it as the panga is open , no roof .
BLUEFIELDS
Wake up early for
the panga , weather OK and we sail
down the Rio to meet the Caribbean ,
I’m the lone
passenger about to have a tough five hours ride on very curly waters . A real
pain in the ass and a soaked one at that . First , he steers to open seas and I can see a rather high
coast till we approach Monkey Point with lower shores .
Bluefields , what
could I say ? You just feel fine there . English creole and Spanish spoken
alike , kind and merry folk , you can stroll downtown quietly , good music
everywhere . Fine terraces , Pelican Bay , especially , lobster and seafood .
El Flotante , also .
Very interesting
museum , this must have been a nice place with its Victorian wooden houses
before Joan , a devastating hurricane .
I leave my luggage
at the hotel and board a panga to El
Rama , some 200 miles upstream the Rio Escondido , Blaufeldt’s hidden refuge .
Impressive , the Rio . Probably wider than the Rio San Juan and definitely
deeper , much deeper as large cargoes
anchor at El Rama´s port . Low , marshy margins first , then they rise more and
more and the first settlements appear , small cabins , then larger houses ,
cattle and people . After a long ride we reach El Rama . A real brothel by
quayside , worse than Managua , indescribable . The Hotel Luisa : no room left . He sends me to Hostal
Gonzalez near by , I pay then see the dubious sheets , the unfriendly bathroom and
leaving my hat and a few things I head to the inner part of the town which
turns to be more residential . I sit at the Kingston open terrace , have a
couple of shots or more before having dinner at a nice place opposite . Later ,
a small hotel has a nice room , clean sheets , good bathroom for 300
cordobas . I’ll spend the night there .
As I’m travelling without luggage , I feel free as a bird .
Finally got to being versus having , Wesen
gegen Haben .
Next morning , panga downstream
, then another one from Bluefields to Pearl Lagoon . Rio Escondido upstream
then after the shipyard , steers right to a tributary , then left to a
tributary of the tributary opening minutes later on a large lagoon then another
river or the same one , avenues of water
everywhere , water and more water .
Aboard I meet Clay , a Garifuna fisherman , and arrange a lagoon tour for the
next day . He shows me the charming Green Lodge and then tells me to pop in at
a nice and huge terrace upon the lagoon for late evening drinks . English
spoken everywhere .
Next morning , wake up very early at 6.30 . We sail at 8 ,
so I walk into the Revival Tabernacle Church , Pentecostial as I’m told later .
A woman is preaching in Creole , then the band , bass guitar , organ and drums
, takes the lead and everybody starts chanting and dancing , praising the Lord body and soul . I’m more than moved ,
actually I’m dancing too .
I stay till the end of the service and leave in a state of
shock . Never experienced anything similar .
At eight we board the wooden dory towards Kahkabila , a small Miskitu village . There I buy some
of their coco bread for breakfast , then we meet the Mayor and the Sindico ,
the Mayor shows me the village , they’ve got jaguars in the surrounding forest
. We get to the Communal House which offers rooms , kitchen , everything .
Before saying goodbye on the beach , he picks several lovely seeds on the sand
as a present which I faithfully keep .
Then La Fe , a Garrifuna hamlet before Orinoco , a larger
one . Great place to enjoy their music , specially during their November Festival
. We get back to Pearl Lagoon and I order a rundown
for 9.30 at the Queen Lobster , a great place with a huge round cabin with
a palm roof , everything on stilts including two rooms . Have some rum
elsewhere then a superb dinner with the rundown
. The owner is Spanish , tells me he’s been living there for six years ,
happy guy ! Pearl Lagoon is another Paradise on Earth . He offers me a shot of gifity , the Orinoco made rum . Potent !
Next morning , the first panga
to Bluefields from where I’m supposed to fly to Bilwi at 10 or 11 a.m. Just
pick my things at the hotel and take a cab to the airport . The Costeña airline
flight is delayed , four hours or so , the bastards have a monopoly .
No time to visit Rama Key , in the southern part of
Bluefields lagoon . A pity .
BILWI
Bilwi is another
mess , much bigger than Bluefields , dirty , everything scattered all around ,
they praise the Market as an attraction . Well , it is a narrow and long alley
where you find a guy selling jeans and shirts opposite the butcher shelves full
of dubious meat visited by a squadron of flies . Further on , old Indian women
sitting behind their fish stalls under the Caribbean sun , waving long branches
to disperse the flies . Not my cup of tea . By night , in Bilwi , better hire a
cab .
Surprisingly , it
boasts very fine hotels . I switch from one to another . On Monday , I book for
Wednesday , always full , at la Casa Museo Judith Kain . A lovely place within
a great garden , with a very interesting museum . Judith Kain was a celebrated
painter , some Miskitu king gave her
family the whole of Pearl Lagoon . Cheap place : 400 cordobas . Then you’ve got
the Cortijo , a great wooden mansion downtown , high ceilings . That was the
place the Sandinistas chose for their Headquarters during the Contra war .
Cheaper .
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6x10j1W8u14 , etc.. switch to 3 , 4 , 5 , …
The Cortijo II is
another , better actually , place by the seaside . So if downtown is a chaos ,
there are very nice terraces by the high waterfront such as the Malecon or Kabu
Payaska ( Kabu means breeze ) , where
you can both have dinner and your drinks . Lunch , too , watching the pelicans
surfing the currents before nose diving like hawks to catch their prey . Here ,
even though waters are still muddy by the shore , they quickly turn
blue , and rather than the most abused “turquoise “ azzuro
, I would say blue in a lapis lazuli mood , the pale one of Chile then the Afghani darker one . Or in Cardenal’s words :
“ Agua verde y azul ( …
) ( verde donde es menos honda y azul la más profunda ).
I’ll have no time
enough to visit the Miskitus villages north or southwards , Wawa and Karata , Tuapi and Krukira , where the rainforest gives
way to pinewoods . A pity , yet the
point is that the Statute of Autonomy of both Caribbean regions , half of the
country, guarantees two things . First , the communal , and communal here means
communist , property of the land and of its products , timber to begin with ,
this property right being exclusive : no strangers allowed . In the Southern
Region , this is reinforced by the Natural Reserves which cover practically everything
.
Then the Statute ,
Ley no. 28 de 1987 as well as the Constitution , recognizes both the
traditional powers and their customary
Judiciary . In Sandino’s words :
“ Soy Nicaragüense y me siento
orgulloso
Porque en mis venas circula , más que todo
La sangre india , que por atavismo encierra
El misterio de ser patriota , leal y sincero “
So , their Communal Assemblies , the Territorial one and the
Traditional Communal Assemblies proceed acc. to their traditional rules . They
elect :
The Sindico , manager of the Communal Property
The Wihta or communal judge , who chooses the communal
policemen
Coucil of the Elders
Secretary , Treasurer / manager of Natural Resources .
Any judicial issue between
Natives is settled via the Tala
Mana system . The Miskitus do not use jails . Proceedings seek conciliatory
results , and when necessary the Tala
Mana system is applied , i.e. indemnity . If guilty of raping a virgin ,
the Tala Mana consists of a cow or
its equivalent in cash , etc…If he refuses to pay then he passes to the
ordinary Nicaraguan Judiciary proceeding acc. to general law .
Don’t know if raping a no virgin is an offence , by the way
.
Yet , Nicaragua has done a great job as far as its Natives
are concerned . Chapeau !
On the 18th
, I fly back to Managua , late as usual but less , rush to my Backpacker’s Inn
, then to the Ticabus offices to book a seat for next day’s bus to San José
from where I’m flying back to Madrid on the 20th , about 5.30 p.m.
Have dinner at the Cantonese nearby . Next morning , take a cab to the French
Embassy Residence to pack my things up and say goodbye to my friends , before
getting to the Ticabus terminal . Delayed , about 3 or 4 hours . Arrive at San
Jose about midnight , have a smoke and then luck with my cabdriver , very nice
chap . Leave my luggage at the lovely and cheap Hegminway Inn , where I’m happy
enough to be offered the John Dos Passos room , not that bastard of Hegminway’s
one .
Jump into the cab ,
telling him : show me to a good bar .
Drops me at the “ Elite “ on Paseo Colón . Instead of a gorilla searching guns or knives you might wear , there is a beauty
who , without doubting it for a second ,
throws the palm of her hand to my dearest parts , surely checking some
more important issue . Glorious entrée en
matière , San José . Sit down , order a bottle of rhum , and there is a
bunch of lovely young ladies at the table nearby . Smiles and all three of them
fly to mine , I offer them a drink from my bottle but they tell me they cannot
accept because they’re supposed to order “ their “ drinks . I politely and
ironically utter some “ How much ? “ , they just laugh and go . The whole place
is bordered by open doors upon the rooms . And it is the same all around the
area , no way to find a bar , I mean a bar only .The sole trouble is the Ticos’
no smoking hysteria , even in parks ! Well , it’s OK on the streets , thank God
.
Next morning I wake
up early enough to get to the Museo del
Oro . Great museum , acc. to Cardenal , there are many Nicaraguan artefacts
, allegedly sold out . Then a cab to the airport where the scheduled 5.30 p.m.
flight will finally take off at 8 p.m.
I arrived at Managua
on September 20th , rather depressed . I’m flying back to Madrid ,
just three months later , absolutely healed , well the mind , for my lungs are
exhausted , no way to quit smoking . Magnificent country , no wonder it gave
birth to so many poets , great poets , you literally swim within beauty . Best
journey in my life , for sure !
Excellent general link
www.ineter.gob.ni
PS There was a before and an after the
day I left Granada for San Miguelito .
San Miguelito was like switching the overdrive on those dear
classic roadsters in a continuous and glorious crescendo culminating surprisingly in Jerez de la Frontera .
Nicaragua is not Quito or Lima , very few historical buildings remain as most
were razed , burnt or destroyed by earthquakes , volcanoes or pirates and Brits
, often the same thing, by the way . In Granada , there are one or two original
houses , the Gran Francia restaurant , magnificently restored , is one of them
,the only house left as filibuster
William Walker chose it as his headquarters , burning everything else .
Then La Casa de los Leones , where Cardenal was born , with its superb carved
stone door . The cathedral looks colonial but it has been rebuilt many a time ,
no old gilden altars and paraphernalia left , everything looted . This you find
in Jerez , everywhere , and there is a nexus , I happened to be reading Cardenal’s poetry in Jerez , thus keeping
half of my soul in Nicaragua . The cathedral of Leon is original and beautiful
,but you won’t find marvels inside as in Ecuador , Peru or Mexico . Don’t know
if they ended in the British Museum but there must be a lot of them in the Isles , for sure .
MANAGUA
Bought a video at
Roberto Huembes Market showing Managua before the 1972 Xmas earthquake . It was
a very nice city , with its Avenida Franklin Roosevelt . A real downtown and
nice parks and houses .
Currently , a chaos , a huge set of slums , then high buildings , good colonias , everything mixed and scattered without any
planning over a huge space . Poor pavement , worst sidewalks , a jungle of
scruffy cars and cabs . Cabdrivers rob you as much as they can . Besides ,
instead of planting trees which lushly grow in Nicaragua , Rosario Murillo , la de los pantalones , had the genial
idea of planting huge yellow steel trees throughout the poor Managua . Must
have a good share in the steel-mill and the painting companies , Rosario . I
was lucky to find two good things in such a mess .
The Backpackers’ Inn , nested in the super safe Colonia de los Robles ,
just behind the Intercontinental and the MetroCenter , some fortified big mall
. I stayed in Room 2 , a private one with AC and bathroom . Too expensive for
backpackers and as people who can afford it never pop in backpackers’ places ,
it was available most of the time , no need to book in advance . A few steps
and a great pool surrounded by trees , bird songs in the middle of the motor
jungle , just heard a rumour from afar . A few yards upwards , Terraza Cevichera
, then an excellent Cantonese ,
and there are many more good restaurants in Los Robles where you can quietly
wander around by night .
The other one was Mercado Ricardo Huembes , nearby . Rincón de los
Artesanos , great place for moneychangers , cigars and traditional wear . I
bought a pair or two of pantalones
tipicos , white light cotton pants traditionally worn by peasants on
Sundays , then several white cotonas
, traditional shirts , mine , from Estelí , had a collar , either short or
half-long sleeved .
From then on , with my white Nica hat , I was to be el Señor de blanco and a fresh one , a
pleasure .
The less I stayed in Managua ,
the better .
GRANADA
Took the UCA small
bus to Granada , dropped me by the beautiful Parque Central . I had an expresso before walking down calle
Caimito to the hotel . Granada’s street grid reminds me of New Orleans . First
you have Bourbon St. , bars , discos , and music all over the place , then a
quiet Royal St. , full of small shops , then Chartres St. where most of the
hotels are located , even though you may find Napoleon’s House , one of the
best bars in the States , a great restaurant also . I stayed at the charming
small St. Helene hotel , next door .
In Granada many hotels in calle Caimito and
calle de la Libertad , in between la Calzada joining the Parque Central with the lake shore . No way to sleep there , bars
and terraces only . A very short walk from the hotel , en route , my favourite money changer who officiated at home with
Putin , his pretty cat .
Granada was an
important step as I entered a fine bookshop , LibroLucha . I bought my first Cardenal’s book , Los Años de Granada . Later , at
Hispamer , Managua , I was lucky enough to find Las Insulas Extrañas . So I met Cardenal via his memoirs at first ,
then in Jerez I found his poetry and Merton’s one , too , by the way . It was a
good introduction ; besides , when I left the bloody house in Conil , I had
been unable to read a single line for a year and a half , and I used to read
essays , history basically . After
the Nica therapy , I began reading poetry in Jerez and enjoying it . It all
began in Granada . I stayed there for a long week , quietly savouring the city
. They offer you tours to Volcán Mombacho , to the Isletas , etc.. , all in
road or water shuttles loaded with packs of tourists . I stayed downtown where
I got familiar with a Granada which is no longer , when sand-covered streets
were watered to mitigate the heat , when horse-driven carriages rode across the
town , when there was a train station . I recognized Carmen’s home in front of
la Merced , Abuela Mimi’s house at a corner of the Parque , today a bar run by
an Austrian who , of course , had never heard of Abuela Mimi . Nor he , neither
most people . The magic of books , of good books .
From there , heading
to Ometepe ( it was Ometepetl , but locals lost the nahuatl “ tl” ) I went to
San Jorge and spent the night there to watch the big island with its twin
volcanoes , the perfect cone of the Asunción , active , and the lower Maderas .
Great sunset from a terrace on the beach , caressed by a fresh breeze . Dinner
and rum . Two girls arrive in a taxi coming from somewhere along the sandy
lakeshore . The place has a big terrace
then behind a huge space , bar and restaurant . The owner is willing to chat
about soccer , tell him he found the wrong guy , then I ask him whether he also
has rooms as the girls came with some luggage , seems to be embarrassed then
explains there’s a third place behind , a brothel . Full service , dinner
,drinks and ladies all in a row . Asks me if I fancy… tell him “ too fat for me
“ , replies “ but we’ve got thinner ones “ …. “ well, I’ll see “ and keep on
sipping my rum enjoying a quiet night .
When leaving , I
take the back door way , get to the “ third “ place , spacious but empty , get
back to the hotel to sleep like an angel .
Next day , ferry to
Moyogalpa , a very nice place right under the Asunción . Very cheap and quiet
hotel , I hire a bike and head to Museo del Ceibo , about ten miles southwards
. Great museum , better than the one in Granada . I realize what a good life the
Natives must have had before the Spaniards appeared , a disaster for them . It
still is for the very few remaining .
En el verbo ,
augusto , de Agustín García Calvo :
( Colón a su vigía )
“ (…) No saben qué les espera,
¡ felices ellos ! ( …)
de no haber venido nosotros a
desgarrar la barrera
de olvido que los guardaba de
nuestro mundo y su ciencia .
( … ) lo
que les traemos es esta
fe en el mañana y saber del
futuro mundo, y a vueltas
de espada y cruz les venimos a
dar lo que nos gobierna:
la muerte que se adelanta a
matarnos antes que venga .” “Yo misma “ , 2014 , ( su testamento )
They came from
Mexico and settled here , Ometepe being the centre of their civilisation . Some
say that Cacique Nicarao is buried here with his great golden throne . The bike
, I’ve got too old , definitely .
Next morning I hire a quad and tour the whole island , the part around Maderas
is less developed and very genuine , awful road . There is a marvellous place ,
Ojos del Agua , with a huge semi natural pool of sulphuric waters surrounded by
the forest . Cool water , delicious .
Then , you get to Santo Domingo isthmus , with its Rio Istián full of gators
and wildlife , its long beaches bordered by a string of nice hotels .
In Moyogalpa , in the evening , I go to the Hospedaje
Central a.k.a El Indio Viejo , a magnificent bar , very high ceilings ,
traditional carpentry with beams painted in all colours as is the furniture ,
palm roofs , a great patio with trees , flowers
and superb paintings on the whitewashed walls. The backyard is home to a
good bunch of deer . Peaceful , good music , a great place .
From there I went to spend four nights at Hotel Tesoro del
Pirata , lost along a bay , nothing else around , bay , hotel , everything for
me . I intended to quit smoking and I
did , for several days till I asked for a cigar in a bar in Granada . No way …
Then way back to Managua via Granada where I spent a couple
of nights . Love it .
Just one thing about Ometepe . I realized later that the
island , or better said , Volcan Concepción is the center of gravity of
Nicaragua . Leaving León and the
northern highlands apart as well as both Caribbean regions , Nicaragua is
centered around the great Cocibolca lake , the heart of which is Ometepetl
crowned by the Concepción . So , probably the best way to get to know this
country would be to hire a decent boat in Granada , anchoring it wherever you
might like to land and have a shuttle to any place you might fancy ; then
sailing down the Rio San Juan ( not easy , sand banks a plenty ) enter into the
Caribbean exploring both the coastline , inaccessible from inland , and the keys .
Leon and the North is another trip .
LEON
The UCA bus has AC and swiftly arrives at Leon . Take a cab to the very
central Lazybones , another backpackers’ place with private rooms . Best pool
in town surrounded by a great shady patio where I spend the whole day , it is
too hot in León . Get out at night to good terraces nearby .
Great cathedral on Plaza Ruben Darío and great private collection at
Fundación Ortiz Gurdian .
Take a cab to visit the former National Guard Fortín on a hilltop with
full control of the town and its surroundings
, then get to Sutiaba , the Indian borough . All churches closed , no
way . I’ll spend a full week in the liberal Leon , home to the best
universities , full of nice places and kind people .
THE HIGHLANDS
Board a local bus to
Estelí , volcanoes first , then we climb along luxuriant mountains , higher and
higher . Get to the wrong hotel , the Don Vito , because of the pool . Around 6
p.m. , the water is more than cool and so is the weather . Dress up and head
towards Parque Central , nearby I spot the perfect hotel , El Mesón , very
cheap , then there is the Luz y Luna Café :
In the Highlands ,
they offer you plenty of tours everywhere , rainforest , coffee and cocoa
plantations , canyons , everything you like . No time . Buses are not the best
bet , driving a car is a better option .
The same for Leon’s Pacific coast .
Estelí is home to
the cigar industry and looks quite prosperous after the dire poverty scenes of
León . Magnificent talabarterías .Cool
weather , specially in the evening .
Then another bus
ride through the mountains up to Jinotega . This is smaller than Estelí , very
nice bar : the Jinocuba .
From there to
Matagalpa , definitely bigger . Lovely Hotel San José , just behind Plaza Ruben
Darío , before boarding a bus back to León where I stay two more nights. The
Lazybones is full to the hilt , go to La Perla nearby , $100 and woken up at
5.30 , street noise ,the pool is ridiculous and the water is warm , luxury is a relative notion . Next day ,
nearby also , La Luna , lovely place . Just get out of the room and a few steps
lead me to a charming pool with cool water . Only con is their no smoking
hysteria , not even in the open patio by the pool , they throw me out to the
street as if I had leper .Then back to Managua and my Backpackers’ Inn .
OMETEPE bis and SAN JUAN del SUR
I’m fed up of buses
and as my budget runs in surplus I switch to shuttles , private or collective
,as the hotel offers one to San Jorge
for $ 60 or 80 . Good car with AC and nice driver , he insists on
dropping me on the quay in front of the ferry . Says : the hotel manager
wouldn’t forgive me if I left you at the gate , even more so when you are a VIP
for them since you always book the best room . Again , luxury is a relative
notion .
The ferry leaves
almost immediately and here I am again in Moyogalpa . I go to the Indio
Viejo . As I planned to board a bus next
morning to Altagracia to take the ferry to San Carlos , I’m lucky enough to
tell the Canadian waitress about it . Beware , she says , I think ferries are
not sailing due to low waters . I call up and she’s right . Have a perfect
evening and night , next morning ferry to San Jorge where a cabdriver , a
honest one , offers me a ride to San Juan del Sur for $20 . Short drive and we
enter this Pacific Coast gem .
Nice resort
embedded along a deep cove combed by a
gentle Pacific Ocean between two mountainous ridges . Nearby , there are many
open beaches , good waves and great surf , many of them a refuge for turtles
which are fiercely protected now .
I choose the Posada
Azul , my best hotel in Nicaragua . I’ve been paying 300 cordobas in
Moyogalpa and I can afford the $80 for
the room . Very nice shop at the entrance , then six rooms only , the last ones
along an exquisite patio with a
delicious pool and its slender waterfall , a marvel both for your ears and your
back . It is a few steps from the waterfront and the beach . At night I sit at
a table on the sand and chat with travellers who are relaxing under the
sheltering sky .
I’ll spend two nice
nights there before getting back to Granada in a collective shuttle which picks
you up at the hotel , nice because the tropical sun with luggage is quite
tropical .
Two more nights in Granada ,overbooking at the Patio de Malinche , full
of wood scents , a pity . So I go to the
one near by , comfortable and good pool . Then I’ll move further South to the
nice Vivaldi , better pool and garden . Between drinks at la Calzada , I hire a
private shuttle for San Carlos , more than 300 kms. away. Next morning at the
fruit juice terrace I drink a sacaresaca
( i.e. hangover remover ,with ginger , apple , grapefruit and something else )
before bidding a last fare thee well to my dear Granada .
Overdrive from San Miguelito onwards : p. 1
_________________________________________________________________________
( At Barajas Airport , took the first train to
Atocha where I bought a ticket to Jerez )
[1] In Hannah Arendt’s great
voice : “The only possible redemption
from the predicament of irreversibility – of being unable to undo what one has
done – is the faculty of forgiving “
Variation upon “ ( ...) sicut et nos dimmitimus debitoribus nostris “?
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