Note to self; don’t be hung over for a mammoth chicken bus journey. We’re squeezed into hot, sweaty, smelly buses on route to Granada. I know what a sardine feels like. Still they keep packing humans in. It’s going to be a long day.
At every turn on our road trip, which detours to Managua to save some money, we are hounded by street vendors selling their wares. It’s relentless. They bombard the buses and shove goods in your face, and many take convincing that you don’t want a grasshopper made from straw.. Shouts of “aqua, aqua, aqua!” filter over the hustle and bustle of bus stations. To the untrained eye, it’s utter chaos. To the trained eye it’s utter chaos.
I do feel a bit bummed I never tried the volcano boarding. Sledging down volcanic rock on a bit of wood. Everyone tells me to do it. Everyone also has serious ankle and elbow injuries, wounds needing a skin graft and calves that have fought off a cheese grater. I think I’ll pass.
Finally pull into Granada with aching shoulders and those really annoying drips of perspiration that slip down your back. It’s not pleasant.
Granada is a popular colonial town on the shores of Lake Nicaragua. It’s touristy, with the locals mixing relatively well with us gringos. There is plenty to see and do, but right now comfort is priority. After a much needed shower and a wander through the streets, for some reason we end up in a bar once again, and once again I end up singing karaoke until dawn.
It does bear some fruit however, as I meet a number of interesting individuals who are all involved with local volunteer projects. Details are exchanged. Hopefully I can start to follow through with my mission, instead of just talking about it.
Sardine
Note to self; don’t be hung over for a mammoth chicken bus journey. We’re squeezed into hot, sweaty, smelly buses on route to Granada. I know what a sardine feels like. Still they keep packing humans in. It’s going to be a long day.
At every turn on our road trip, which detours to Managua to save some money, we are hounded by street vendors selling their wares. It’s relentless. They bombard the buses and shove goods in your face, and many take convincing that you don’t want a grasshopper made from straw.. Shouts of “aqua, aqua, aqua!” filter over the hustle and bustle of bus stations. To the untrained eye, it’s utter chaos. To the trained eye it’s utter chaos.
I do feel a bit bummed I never tried the volcano boarding. Sledging down volcanic rock on a bit of wood. Everyone tells me to do it. Everyone also has serious ankle and elbow injuries, wounds needing a skin graft and calves that have fought off a cheese grater. I think I’ll pass.
Finally pull into Granada with aching shoulders and those really annoying drips of perspiration that slip down your back. It’s not pleasant.
Granada is a popular colonial town on the shores of Lake Nicaragua. It’s touristy, with the locals mixing relatively well with us gringos. There is plenty to see and do, but right now comfort is priority. After a much needed shower and a wander through the streets, for some reason we end up in a bar once again, and once again I end up singing karaoke until dawn.
It does bear some fruit however, as I meet a number of interesting individuals who are all involved with local volunteer projects. Details are exchanged. Hopefully I can start to follow through with my mission, instead of just talking about it.