Ignore the last sentence of the previous blog. Our combined restlessness left us on the horns of a dilemma - painful. With so many amazing things to see and do we're finding it really difficult to commit to being in just one place for any length of time. Granada has truly been a fantastic place to see. We hitch-hiked to the crater lake of Laguna Apoyo with Horus Heavens and his girlfriend Amber, whizzing down the valley in the back of pickup trucks towards the cool waters and drunk people at the lakeside. Next day we daytripped to the bustling market town of Masaya - perhaps the only place on earth where you can buy a whole pig's head at one stall, and Christmas decorations at the very next. We really explored the city and it's been wonderful to be there for a few days.
During that time we found that using the Nicaraguan buses is an experience in itself. The bus stops are a very intense and noisy place. It seems to be a heavily competitive industry, bus drivers arguing over who gets to take you to your destination. The bus driver's assistants are constantly shouting place names: Managua and Granada become ¨Manawamanawamanawa¨ and Granaragranaragranara¨ respectively. They barely stop, as the assistants push you by your ass onto the old yellow schoolbuses. If your bag (or indeed your ass) is too big for the back of the bus, it'll be thrown on the roof with the tyres and bicycles. Chicken buses, Nicaraguan style!
Our explorations of Granada have uncovered a few amazing buildings: in the north of the town lies Fortaleza La Polvora, which is a beautifully maintained old lookout and prison, where we climbed the turrets and strolled the gardens. There is also an amazing old hospital, San Juan del Dios, where we walked through the ruins and Rachel went slightly dizzy with her camera. There we met the old security guard who showed us the morgue, children's unit, and maternity ward. He then clutched his stomach saying he was hungry. Found it disconcerting when a man with a uniform, handcuffs and a nightstick begs you for money (although that's a standard Saturday night for Woody). It really shows the poverty level of the country, especially when you think that the average monthly wage is $100 - a figure that some people would piss away after work on a Friday. With that in mind, we went and bought the guard a bag of oranges and a hand of plantains, thinking he could at least take them home to his family. But when we returned he had mysteriously disappeared altogether...
Bus-taxi-boat-bus-bus brings us to the volcanic island of Ometepe, in the middle of Lake Nicaragua. The best way to see around the island is by canoe, Rachel's extremely childish and immature jokes about 'coxless pairs' aside... We paddled to the Rio Istian, which is a swampy river lying on the isthmus of the island. We gently cruised through the mangroves, seeing loads of different birds, insects and the odd swish in the water, which we think were caiman crocs. The only sounds were those of our paddles as we stealthily drifted with the current, quietly observing our natural surroundings. Where better, then, to re-create the epic Olympic effort of our gold medal winning rowers of years gone by? Plenty of strange looks from the women washing their clothes on the stones in the river, and the odd admiring glance from the men wading with their fish nets (again, a standard Saturday night for Woody).
We spent the day paddling, visiting Monkey Island where little capuchins and spider monkeys stare at you from the branches as you coast round. Drifting on Lake Nicaragua, the two huge volcanoes on either side, blue sky and scorching sun above, and monkeys swinging and playing only feet away. Life is good...
Sunday, 29 November 2009
Friday, 20 November 2009
Pop quiz asshole...
Two days and two 10-hour bus journeys bring us from Panama to the Nicaraguan border. Scruffy characters walk through the crowds waving huge wads of Nicaraguan currency, offering you ¨good exchange price¨, the temperature reaches a thousand degrees, and even a soldier with a gun can't control the queue as fat women with elbows and old men with black eyes crush to get through immigration on the Costa Rican side. On the Nicaraguan side our bus driver collects everyone's passport in a plastic bag, along with a few dollars, disappears for twenty minutes and bingo! Welcome to Nicaragua...
Border-based mayhem aside, so far Nicaragua has been amazing. Looking out of the window as the bus cruised north we saw Lake Nicaragua and the two island volcanoes in the middle of it. A delicate ring of low cloud circled the volcano summits.....as if gentle Jesus was blowing his smoke rings down from the heavens!
Inside the bus the film 'Speed' (yep, bomb on a bus) blared at full volume. Woody and me have come to the conclusion that the drivers want to make their passengers as uneasy as possible. Our bus films so far have included Ice Cube chopping an anaconda in the head with an axe, a trumpet player being shot in the neck in Vietnam (in super slow motion), and a little boy being run over by a combine harvester. And Chris Klein. It's all very surreal, but when the window views are this good, they could show anything. Maybe that's why they do...
We rolled into Granada as the sun set and we were blown away. It's an absolutely beautiful old colonial town. Brightly painted buildings, exquisitely crafted churches on almost every corner, and horse drawn carriages clattering up and down the cobbled streets. Costa Rica and Panama are breathtakingly beautiful countries, but because it's so old, it feels like the beauty of Granada has just a bit more depth and personality and soul. I think that's why it's so instantly likeable.
When the two favourite sports of a nation are boxing and baseball, maybe you'd have a feeling that it's a nation that revels in violence (like if someone can't punch you to death, they can always go and get their baseball bat). Combine that with a difficult, violent past and high levels of poverty and perhaps you'd get the impression that these things would be reflected in the people. We've found the Nicaraguans to be a friendly, smiley, helpful nation, maybe even slightly shy compared to the more outgoing Costa Rican Ticos...
Last night we had a few beers on Calle La Calzada - kind of like Barcelona's La Rambla but with more dogs. We met some interesting people - like Horus Heavens who passed his guitar around and played and sang songs, or Tommy O'Shea (you couldn't make it up) the owner of an Irish bar, or this old Catalonian guy who used to be a musician until he had his fingers chopped off by General Franco.
It was here that we had our first encounter with the Nicaraguan street kids. They sell sweets, chewing gum and cigarettes, and if you're not careful you'll give them everything you've got. One little girl shyly came over to where we were sitting, quietly said hello and fumbled a wee pack of chewing gum onto our table to see if we wanted to buy it. She was barely the height of the table, and her wide brown eyes made it impossible to say no. It was very scary to think that she was just a little girl and was out on the streets after dark selling these things. You could probably go mental going over the various permutations of why she has to do this, where she sleeps at night and who looks after her.
The boys are much more boisterous - breakdancing in the street, jumping into our photos, and hugging Rachel. We spoke to one wee guy, Miguelangel, who asked us about Scotland and giggled as he tried to pronounce our names (although he did better than our bus driver - ¨Rash el Wood Hard¨ and ¨Tot a Lan Weh Teh For¨...) We had no change after the little girl, but Miguelangel took two sweets out of his wee basket and gave them to us anyway. At the risk of sounding like a cock, it is a humbling experience. It's strange how the kind act of a little kid can make you feel so bad...
With that in mind myself and the Universal Crowd Pleaser that is Woodward have a meeting on Monday with a woman to see if there's a possibility of volunteering in a kid's shelter. Granada might keep us for a while...
Border-based mayhem aside, so far Nicaragua has been amazing. Looking out of the window as the bus cruised north we saw Lake Nicaragua and the two island volcanoes in the middle of it. A delicate ring of low cloud circled the volcano summits.....as if gentle Jesus was blowing his smoke rings down from the heavens!
Inside the bus the film 'Speed' (yep, bomb on a bus) blared at full volume. Woody and me have come to the conclusion that the drivers want to make their passengers as uneasy as possible. Our bus films so far have included Ice Cube chopping an anaconda in the head with an axe, a trumpet player being shot in the neck in Vietnam (in super slow motion), and a little boy being run over by a combine harvester. And Chris Klein. It's all very surreal, but when the window views are this good, they could show anything. Maybe that's why they do...
We rolled into Granada as the sun set and we were blown away. It's an absolutely beautiful old colonial town. Brightly painted buildings, exquisitely crafted churches on almost every corner, and horse drawn carriages clattering up and down the cobbled streets. Costa Rica and Panama are breathtakingly beautiful countries, but because it's so old, it feels like the beauty of Granada has just a bit more depth and personality and soul. I think that's why it's so instantly likeable.
When the two favourite sports of a nation are boxing and baseball, maybe you'd have a feeling that it's a nation that revels in violence (like if someone can't punch you to death, they can always go and get their baseball bat). Combine that with a difficult, violent past and high levels of poverty and perhaps you'd get the impression that these things would be reflected in the people. We've found the Nicaraguans to be a friendly, smiley, helpful nation, maybe even slightly shy compared to the more outgoing Costa Rican Ticos...
Last night we had a few beers on Calle La Calzada - kind of like Barcelona's La Rambla but with more dogs. We met some interesting people - like Horus Heavens who passed his guitar around and played and sang songs, or Tommy O'Shea (you couldn't make it up) the owner of an Irish bar, or this old Catalonian guy who used to be a musician until he had his fingers chopped off by General Franco.
It was here that we had our first encounter with the Nicaraguan street kids. They sell sweets, chewing gum and cigarettes, and if you're not careful you'll give them everything you've got. One little girl shyly came over to where we were sitting, quietly said hello and fumbled a wee pack of chewing gum onto our table to see if we wanted to buy it. She was barely the height of the table, and her wide brown eyes made it impossible to say no. It was very scary to think that she was just a little girl and was out on the streets after dark selling these things. You could probably go mental going over the various permutations of why she has to do this, where she sleeps at night and who looks after her.
The boys are much more boisterous - breakdancing in the street, jumping into our photos, and hugging Rachel. We spoke to one wee guy, Miguelangel, who asked us about Scotland and giggled as he tried to pronounce our names (although he did better than our bus driver - ¨Rash el Wood Hard¨ and ¨Tot a Lan Weh Teh For¨...) We had no change after the little girl, but Miguelangel took two sweets out of his wee basket and gave them to us anyway. At the risk of sounding like a cock, it is a humbling experience. It's strange how the kind act of a little kid can make you feel so bad...
With that in mind myself and the Universal Crowd Pleaser that is Woodward have a meeting on Monday with a woman to see if there's a possibility of volunteering in a kid's shelter. Granada might keep us for a while...
Sunday, 15 November 2009
Super Mini Fuk...
Many a cheap laugh to be had in these parts, especially when the language barrier comes into play. One of the most amusing things I like to think of is the improper use of a foreign language. Although in the longrun it may be a backward step in the learning of Spanish, I think it's funny to get hold of a Spanish phrase e.g: ¨quezas es muy peligroso¨ - ¨maybe it's very dangerous¨ and use it as many times as possible, at various volumes, regardless of context or appropriateness. For example if we're speaking to a taxi driver about a certain area of town: ¨Maybe it's very dangerous?¨, or if we're talking about some strange Central American bug: ¨Maybe it's very dangerous?¨. Similarily, when ordering another beer: ¨Maybe it's very dangerous!¨, or if people ask if me and Woody are a couple: ¨Maybe it's very dangerous!!!¨. Hours of fun at a low low price...
Equally the translation from Spanish to English on notice boards can be entaçertaining in itself. The obligatory ¨Thanks for don't smoke¨, tour companies promising to ¨came back your moneys¨ if your tour is rained off. I think the best is hostel owners urging you to ¨Clean please your dishes for avoid to have dirty in the kitchen.¨
As with most foreign countries you can get a good laugh from the shop names. The current top 3 are the newsagents ¨RAMINIT¨, San Jose's number one laundrette ¨Lavanderia Fanny¨, and the family friendly corner shop - ¨Super Mini Fuk¨...
After weeks of either mountain towns or beach towns, we hit El Ciudad de Panama - Panama City at the start of the week. The main area is much like any big city in the U.S - shiny skyscrapers, wide roads and lots of traffic. In stark contrast, the old town of Casco Viejo is really where we felt like we were in a proper colonial town. There were beautiful buildings (even though some were in a bit of a state), narrow streets and not a McDonalds in sight. With sea views on three sides, Woody's camera was snapping ten to the dozen, and it was great to finally see what we'd both expected from the city.
We also visited the Miraflores Locks of Panama Canal - an amazing feat of engineering. We saw two enormous ships go through, their crews waving and taking pictures as we did the same. To be honest, if the ships hadn't been there the most interesting thing about our canal trip would have been the fact that our fairly reckless taxi driver was pulled over by the Policia on the way there.
We quit El Ciudad and headed for the highlands, hiking and nature reserve of El Valle (not to be confused with Marty McFly's home town of Hill Valley). Many a great walk, waterfalls, monkeys and kinkajous and all sorts of wildlife. The people there are friendly, but there's plenty of 'stare in the community', especially when your asking about the square trees that are there and asking if we can 'do a bus to Chitre'. We came to the conclusion that they don't get many tourists around there. We also had rats in our roof...
Equally the translation from Spanish to English on notice boards can be entaçertaining in itself. The obligatory ¨Thanks for don't smoke¨, tour companies promising to ¨came back your moneys¨ if your tour is rained off. I think the best is hostel owners urging you to ¨Clean please your dishes for avoid to have dirty in the kitchen.¨
As with most foreign countries you can get a good laugh from the shop names. The current top 3 are the newsagents ¨RAMINIT¨, San Jose's number one laundrette ¨Lavanderia Fanny¨, and the family friendly corner shop - ¨Super Mini Fuk¨...
After weeks of either mountain towns or beach towns, we hit El Ciudad de Panama - Panama City at the start of the week. The main area is much like any big city in the U.S - shiny skyscrapers, wide roads and lots of traffic. In stark contrast, the old town of Casco Viejo is really where we felt like we were in a proper colonial town. There were beautiful buildings (even though some were in a bit of a state), narrow streets and not a McDonalds in sight. With sea views on three sides, Woody's camera was snapping ten to the dozen, and it was great to finally see what we'd both expected from the city.
We also visited the Miraflores Locks of Panama Canal - an amazing feat of engineering. We saw two enormous ships go through, their crews waving and taking pictures as we did the same. To be honest, if the ships hadn't been there the most interesting thing about our canal trip would have been the fact that our fairly reckless taxi driver was pulled over by the Policia on the way there.
We quit El Ciudad and headed for the highlands, hiking and nature reserve of El Valle (not to be confused with Marty McFly's home town of Hill Valley). Many a great walk, waterfalls, monkeys and kinkajous and all sorts of wildlife. The people there are friendly, but there's plenty of 'stare in the community', especially when your asking about the square trees that are there and asking if we can 'do a bus to Chitre'. We came to the conclusion that they don't get many tourists around there. We also had rats in our roof...
Sunday, 8 November 2009
Sun even shines on a dog's ass some days...
After a couple of days watching brass bands parade the streets of Bocas Del Toro for Panamain Independence day (November 3rd), we bussed it south to David and asked ourselves ''What is your goddamn problem, David? Although it is a fairly inoffensive city, that might be why we felt that there was very little to keep us there. So, with that said we move north to Boquete - a small mountain town full of culture and charm. As the schoolbus we were on drove down into town, it was so green and mountainous it could have been Scotland (imagine Kinlochleven full of Ngobe Bugle Indians and you're halfway there).
The Ngobe Bugle are a native people based in the Chiriqui province of Panama. The women are all brilliantly turned out in brightly coloured long dresses, and their presence seems to light up the streets as they go about their days.
As we arrived at our hostel we were greeted by two big boisterous dogs, who subsequently made good their escape when the owner turned his back. What followed was a calamitous chasing of dogs through the streets of Boquete in the pouring rain. Rachel, calling upon her best Kenneth Hutch impression, grabbed one of the mutts with a soggy dog treat, while my David Starsky flip-flopped along holding the other dog by the scruff.
The hostel owner rewarded us with a trip to the hot springs of Caldera. Other than a few strategically placed rocks, the springs are completely natural, and are surrounded by viscous 'quick mud'. As the rain poured down, we sat in the hot water hearing tales of Ngobe Bugle Indians who had sunk in the mud - from time to time their dead bodies rising to the surface as the consistency of the mud changed with the weather. Negotiating the hike back to the jeep with these horrors in our heads and a carton of wine in our stomachs was definitely an interesting affair...
Yesterday we hiked up to El Mirador (the lookout) and the wildlife refuge that sits atop the hill. As young Woods fell in love with a pink parrot called Sam (Allo!), I was able to recruit a new addition to 'Toddy's Top 5 Favourite Animals' - Geoffroy's Tamarin monkeys. Think of a 12 inch tall old man, with a white mohican. Amazingly, they achieve a state of grumpiness and playfulness simultaneously. Could have watched those little fellows for hours, and nearly did as Rachel fed a wee damaged capuchin monkey called Monty, who held her hands as he ate his cranberries.
Today we aimed to head up to a crazy garden called 'Mi Jardin es su Jardin', and some of the best coffee in the world at Cafe Ruiz. As a warm up, we decided it would be a great idea to take Sonny and Papito for a quick morning walk. Sonny is a big orange boxer dog, and Papito is basically a bear with a collar. They are young dogs and very excitable, a fact that became apparent when Sonny pulled so hard on the lead that Rachel split both her sandal and her toe open. What followed was a quick display of Panamain kindness as an elderly lady shuffled out of her doorway with a bottle of iodine, a plaster and a new pair of flip flops patching little Woods up with equal measures of care and roughness. Papito obviously felt this wasn't enough excitement for one day, and proceeded to get himself in a fight with a dog even bigger than himself. As the two bit and scratched each other I tried to wrestle them apart with the leash, but they are so strong that it is near impossible. As the other dog limped away, Papito and Sonny pulled us up the hill and stopped to drink at a perfect place for us to get a view of the whole town... As these brutes pulled us home, we got the distinct feeling that they'd taken us for a walk, not the other way around...
Tomorrow we hit the old dusty trail back to David, then quickly on to our next destination - currently unknown...
The Ngobe Bugle are a native people based in the Chiriqui province of Panama. The women are all brilliantly turned out in brightly coloured long dresses, and their presence seems to light up the streets as they go about their days.
As we arrived at our hostel we were greeted by two big boisterous dogs, who subsequently made good their escape when the owner turned his back. What followed was a calamitous chasing of dogs through the streets of Boquete in the pouring rain. Rachel, calling upon her best Kenneth Hutch impression, grabbed one of the mutts with a soggy dog treat, while my David Starsky flip-flopped along holding the other dog by the scruff.
The hostel owner rewarded us with a trip to the hot springs of Caldera. Other than a few strategically placed rocks, the springs are completely natural, and are surrounded by viscous 'quick mud'. As the rain poured down, we sat in the hot water hearing tales of Ngobe Bugle Indians who had sunk in the mud - from time to time their dead bodies rising to the surface as the consistency of the mud changed with the weather. Negotiating the hike back to the jeep with these horrors in our heads and a carton of wine in our stomachs was definitely an interesting affair...
Yesterday we hiked up to El Mirador (the lookout) and the wildlife refuge that sits atop the hill. As young Woods fell in love with a pink parrot called Sam (Allo!), I was able to recruit a new addition to 'Toddy's Top 5 Favourite Animals' - Geoffroy's Tamarin monkeys. Think of a 12 inch tall old man, with a white mohican. Amazingly, they achieve a state of grumpiness and playfulness simultaneously. Could have watched those little fellows for hours, and nearly did as Rachel fed a wee damaged capuchin monkey called Monty, who held her hands as he ate his cranberries.
Today we aimed to head up to a crazy garden called 'Mi Jardin es su Jardin', and some of the best coffee in the world at Cafe Ruiz. As a warm up, we decided it would be a great idea to take Sonny and Papito for a quick morning walk. Sonny is a big orange boxer dog, and Papito is basically a bear with a collar. They are young dogs and very excitable, a fact that became apparent when Sonny pulled so hard on the lead that Rachel split both her sandal and her toe open. What followed was a quick display of Panamain kindness as an elderly lady shuffled out of her doorway with a bottle of iodine, a plaster and a new pair of flip flops patching little Woods up with equal measures of care and roughness. Papito obviously felt this wasn't enough excitement for one day, and proceeded to get himself in a fight with a dog even bigger than himself. As the two bit and scratched each other I tried to wrestle them apart with the leash, but they are so strong that it is near impossible. As the other dog limped away, Papito and Sonny pulled us up the hill and stopped to drink at a perfect place for us to get a view of the whole town... As these brutes pulled us home, we got the distinct feeling that they'd taken us for a walk, not the other way around...
Tomorrow we hit the old dusty trail back to David, then quickly on to our next destination - currently unknown...
Monday, 2 November 2009
Woody and Tink: Colon explorers...
November, and we find ourselves on a new island, in a new town, in a new country. Welcome to Bocas Del Toro, Panama. After a border crossing which involved two buses, a boat and a rather ropey walk over a disused old railway bridge, we arrived on the island to the sounds of a brass band and the sights of the Panamain Halloween preamble. Bocas Del Toro is made up of a group of islands: there's Bastimentos, Carenero, Zapatillas.... personally I take great delight in the fact that our island is called 'Isla Colon'... We really are fully fledged Colon explorers!
On our first day in town, we went out for a wee walksy around and a wee explore. Bocas Del Toro is an interesting mix. The buildings are very American - simple wooden affairs, something you might see in a Jack Daniels advert. Combine this with a laid back Carribbean feel, everyone boating around and relaxing and Bocas becomes a place that is very easy to like.
It was on this walksy around that we met Joe. Joe is on a road trip from Texas and he is hunting the Chupacabra. For those unfamiliar with the name, El Chupacabra is like the Bigfoot of Latin America - a possibly mythical beast (although not if you ask Joe) about the size of a small bear, that feeds on the blood of goats. To fund his trip, he and his friends make promotional films for restaurants and hotels as they go along... Cue myself and Woody being roped into a short cameo in one of his films! So we spent the afternoon sitting in an empty bar being filmed 'having fun'. To be honest it wasn't a difficult role to get into, considering they had a cool box full of beers and the free food was in no short supply. Our fellow cast members were mostly backpackers as well, so it was great to meet more travellers and exchange stories.
After the film was wrapped (yeah, that's filmy talk) we went in search of Joe's Chupacabra Mobile - he'd forgotten where he left it! A minute down the road we stumbled 'pon his vehicle - a 15 foot camper van, hand painted with tribal images. ¨Oh, there she is¨, Joe turned round, bemused and pleased in equal measure...
On the boat back to the other island we made plans to go to a Halloween party at El Toro Loco (the crazy bull). With limited budget, Woody constructed herself a cheeky little number out of a Scotland flag and a $2 tiara, while I made a face mask from my Lion Rampant and shaved myself a nice handlebar moustache. (much to Rachel's delight the handlebars will be with us for the whole of Mo'vember.)
A Panamain Halloween is very similar to a Scottish one - basically a lot of booze, fake blood and scantily clad policewomen... with the exception that you go to the club in a boat, and people do backflips off the roof of the club into the sea. That's the only real difference. Suitably fuzzy headed yesterday, we avoided the raging thunderstorm outside - although this evening there seems to be another approaching...
On our first day in town, we went out for a wee walksy around and a wee explore. Bocas Del Toro is an interesting mix. The buildings are very American - simple wooden affairs, something you might see in a Jack Daniels advert. Combine this with a laid back Carribbean feel, everyone boating around and relaxing and Bocas becomes a place that is very easy to like.
It was on this walksy around that we met Joe. Joe is on a road trip from Texas and he is hunting the Chupacabra. For those unfamiliar with the name, El Chupacabra is like the Bigfoot of Latin America - a possibly mythical beast (although not if you ask Joe) about the size of a small bear, that feeds on the blood of goats. To fund his trip, he and his friends make promotional films for restaurants and hotels as they go along... Cue myself and Woody being roped into a short cameo in one of his films! So we spent the afternoon sitting in an empty bar being filmed 'having fun'. To be honest it wasn't a difficult role to get into, considering they had a cool box full of beers and the free food was in no short supply. Our fellow cast members were mostly backpackers as well, so it was great to meet more travellers and exchange stories.
After the film was wrapped (yeah, that's filmy talk) we went in search of Joe's Chupacabra Mobile - he'd forgotten where he left it! A minute down the road we stumbled 'pon his vehicle - a 15 foot camper van, hand painted with tribal images. ¨Oh, there she is¨, Joe turned round, bemused and pleased in equal measure...
On the boat back to the other island we made plans to go to a Halloween party at El Toro Loco (the crazy bull). With limited budget, Woody constructed herself a cheeky little number out of a Scotland flag and a $2 tiara, while I made a face mask from my Lion Rampant and shaved myself a nice handlebar moustache. (much to Rachel's delight the handlebars will be with us for the whole of Mo'vember.)
A Panamain Halloween is very similar to a Scottish one - basically a lot of booze, fake blood and scantily clad policewomen... with the exception that you go to the club in a boat, and people do backflips off the roof of the club into the sea. That's the only real difference. Suitably fuzzy headed yesterday, we avoided the raging thunderstorm outside - although this evening there seems to be another approaching...
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