Every 90 days I need to leave Costa Rica to renew my visa. For this reason I decided to head across to Nicaragua for a short vacation. There are two border crossings, Penas Blancas and San Carlos. The San Carlos crossing passes close to a friend´s stables, so after a few days of horseback I headed north towards the border.
The Wednesday started around 7am, walking to the bus that was supposed to arrive around 7:30. I was there in time, around 7:15, but then realized that I needed US$ to cross the border. (here begins the first of a few problems, as will unfold). I took out $40, which I thought would be enough to get me rolling in NIC. I then ran back to the 7:30 bus which proceeded to never come. Bummer.
So I sat on my pack on the side of the road until 8:50, when the 8:30 bus arrived. The bus was packed as usual, so I took my normal position, standing in the center isle, head tilted because all the Ticos are too short to make the buses any taller. Fortunately, the bus was on a pretty good road, so all was well. Well, almost well... When we arrived in Los Chiles, the border town, I walked down to the customs and immigration offices to leave the country. The entrance to NIC and boat (the only passage is by boat on the Rio San Juan) cost 7700 Colones ($17US), more than expected. No worries, I still had my trusty $40US for NIC.
The boat from Los Chiles to San Carlos was also packed, and when the lady at immigration told me that it left at 12, she actually meant be there at 11:30, otherwise you´ll be sitting on the floor. You can imagine my surprise when I found out that not only was my seat taken, but the boat couldn't leave (fortunately, because it would have left me) because the police officer checking life jackets had decided that there weren't enough. Not that it would matter since the river is full of crocodile and Cayman.
Once the policeman was satisfied with the life jacket count (read=bribe), the boat slowly headed up the river towards San Carlos de Nicaragua. The boat was small, too small for the 41 passengers (ascertained by the PFD count). There were many Nicaraguans as well as Costa Ricans, going to visit friends and family. On the boat I met Julia, a traveling photojournalist who is writing a guidebook on CR and NIC for a German publisher. She also speaks Hungarian, Spanish, French, English, and German... so we had lots to talk about. Coincidentally, she was headed to San Carlos to renew her visa, and also lives in Turrialba. Her plan was to take the boat to San Carlos in the afternoon, and return on the evening boat, only leaving the country for a few hours, rather than 3 days as required. She told me it had worked at every other border, and it did here too.
Arriving in San Carlos by boat from Costa Rica is like walking into a different world. San Carlos is a far outpost of NIC, and is only accessible by boat from Granada (12 hours) or road from Managua (8 hours, allegedly). The town itself lies on the far south east end of Lago de Nicaragua. There is actually a water passage that goes from the Pacific, up the rivers to San Carlos, across the lake, and out on another river to the Atlantic. If the journey didn't take a few days to do, the Panama Canal might have never been built. Because the area was originally colonized by the Spanish, there are a number of Spanish Castles and fortifications that still exist in the town and the surrounding areas. The town is quaint but an echo of the past, quiet but alive.
Upon arrival in San Carlos, you need to pay for your entrance into NIC ($7US). Unfortunately, Julia had forgotten to get her US$ (she should have checked the guide book) so I agreed to sell her my $20US for Colones. I did this not fully realizing that there is no way to get money in San Carlos, and that the only accepted currency is $US or the $NIC, Cordoba. We entered San Carlos to find the next big surprise: The boat for Granada only leaves on Tuesdays and Fridays. Bummer. To relax a bit and figure stuff out, Julia and I go to a place she knows to grab a bit to eat. The place has changed a bit and now costs $6US.
The situation as it stands: I'm in Nicaragua with $7US, a few thousand Colones, and have no boat to get where I need to go for 2 days. The solution: There is a bus to Managua for $6US that isn't as nice as the boat ride, but will get me there in 8 hours, leaving at 6, 8, and 10pm. Perfect, so I can take the bus to Managua, get more cash from an ATM, jump on another bus to Granada and be there well rested from the bus rides to enjoy the day. Simple.
I go to the ticket office (read=guy looking official at the bar) and surrender my last few dollars for a bus ticket to Managua. I figure I can take the 6pm bus, landing me there around 2am. I could sleep a bit in the bus station until the buses leave for Granada, then on to there.
I needed to kill a few hours in San Carlos, which isn't a very big place, so after my third walk around town I decided to settle into the local fruit and vegetable market. I walked up and down the stalls until I found some people who looked nice, then asked them if I could sit down and watch them peel carrots and chayote for a salad. We talked for a few hours about all sorts of marvelous things. After a half hour or so, the guy began asking me about homosexuality in the US, and what people think about it. A few minutes later he confessed that he was homosexual, and that so were his other few friends who had been stopping by. It turns out that San Carlos is a bit of a Leper-Colony for homosexuals in Nicaragua. Although the population is small, the outpost has a reputation for that. I said goodbye to my new friends at the market who sent me along with tomatoes, mandarins, and salad for my overnight bus journey.
As I approached the buses at the terminal, I had a bit of an 'oh shit' moment. There were two buses parked at the Managua terminal. One was a newer looking yellow school bus, freshly washed, 'School Bus' still painted across the top. The other was a white painted bus, cerca 1975, with the words 'El Angel de La Noche' stencilled across the top of the windshield, like the bus was squinting to see you. I thought, 'This is the bus that Chris McCandless found in Alaska, as told by John Krakauer in Into the Wild.' It ends here. As I came around the front of the buses, I was relieved to see 'Managua, 6pm' scribbled on the window of the yellow bus. So, it doesn't end here.
Right on time, 6pm sharp the yellow bus jumped to life, and the dozen passengers of this midnight rider boarded. There was a sentiment on the bus of, 'I'd like being anywhere but here for the next 8 hours' as we backed out of the terminal. We started to bump down the coblestone roads heading out of San Carlos. After a few minutes the bus stopped to pickup some school children walking home and I thought, 'This road really isn't so bad'. A few minutes later, at the edge of San Carlos we let the children off, and the road ended. Literally, ended.
To say the next 8 hours were some of the longest of my life is an understatement. This road could have been a minefield, a golfcourse with sandtraps and ponds, a battlefield and trenches after a war, a 4x4's paradise. And I got a big yellow school bus. There were places where the potholes were so big, all 4 wheels would enter the hole before any left. The bus tossed and turned, side to side, end to end like a restless person with a fever. After 2 hours, I thought, this road couldn't possibly be like this for all 8 hours... It wasn't, for two reasons: First, the bus didn't make it. Second, it took almost 12 hours in total.
After hour 6, we stopped so the driver could have a smoke. The bus never started again. My beautiful, yellow, newish school bus had failed me. We sat for an hour and a half trying various things to get the bus to turnover. No dice. During the time the bus wouldn't start, I got out and walked around a bit in the night. It was black, pitch black. There were a million stars and no light. We really were in the middle of nowhere. Looking at the map of Nicaragua, one notices that there is nothing east of the lake. No roads, towns, nothing. We were stuck in the middle of nothing.
Through the night came a rumble and then lights. It was 'El Angel de La Noche.' We all boarded the bus, and rumbled on into the night, leaving behind the crippled yellow bus. A few hours later around 5am, we arrived in Managua, the capitol city of Nicaragua. I waited till dawn, got on a local bus to the other bus station, got on a bus to Granada, and slept the whole way there. I've never been so happy to be on a bus. The paved rode lulled me to sleep in minutes, and I woke up in Granada, where I am now.
Sitting here, now in Grenada, NIC, its hard to believe the journey I have traveled in the past 36 hours. I don't believe in Angels, but last night I was saved by one... the one I didn't believe in. Perhaps, a story for living better.
To say the next 8 hours were some of the longest of my life is an understatement. This road could have been a minefield, a golfcourse with sandtraps and ponds, a battlefield and trenches after a war, a 4x4's paradise. And I got a big yellow school bus. There were places where the potholes were so big, all 4 wheels would enter the hole before any left. The bus tossed and turned, side to side, end to end like a restless person with a fever. After 2 hours, I thought, this road couldn't possibly be like this for all 8 hours... It wasn't, for two reasons: First, the bus didn't make it. Second, it took almost 12 hours in total.
After hour 6, we stopped so the driver could have a smoke. The bus never started again. My beautiful, yellow, newish school bus had failed me. We sat for an hour and a half trying various things to get the bus to turnover. No dice. During the time the bus wouldn't start, I got out and walked around a bit in the night. It was black, pitch black. There were a million stars and no light. We really were in the middle of nowhere. Looking at the map of Nicaragua, one notices that there is nothing east of the lake. No roads, towns, nothing. We were stuck in the middle of nothing.
Through the night came a rumble and then lights. It was 'El Angel de La Noche.' We all boarded the bus, and rumbled on into the night, leaving behind the crippled yellow bus. A few hours later around 5am, we arrived in Managua, the capitol city of Nicaragua. I waited till dawn, got on a local bus to the other bus station, got on a bus to Granada, and slept the whole way there. I've never been so happy to be on a bus. The paved rode lulled me to sleep in minutes, and I woke up in Granada, where I am now.
Sitting here, now in Grenada, NIC, its hard to believe the journey I have traveled in the past 36 hours. I don't believe in Angels, but last night I was saved by one... the one I didn't believe in. Perhaps, a story for living better.
