San Juan del Sur - lobstahs and all

I wrote this in March. Sorry about that.

I realize I have only lived in Nicaragua for six months but as an expatriate I often resent being treated as a moneybags or, worse, a gringa backpacker. Both of these stereotypes are in force in the beach town San Juan del Sur but I braved them to spend some time with a Peace Corps buddy down to do a practicum for her Master's program.


Some of the fun in any new place is figuring out transportation. In Managua I drive or use a taxi driver from a nearby hotel. "O" charges more than a normal taxi but he knows where I live (which, if you've ever given directions in Managua generally or to my house specifically, is super important) and he's friendly and super reliable. So I called him on Friday night to so that I could catch the one and only Saturday express bus to SJDS at 9:30. Even though O called me at 7:30AM to confirm he showed up late due to some location confusion and I missed the express bus. Instead, I had to take an express to Rivas and figure out the last leg when I arrived. (I still adore O. On one recent trip to the airport he answered all my nerdy questions about city government and neighborhood borders and Managuan history. In this instance, he made sure I had only the money necessary for the bus at the ready so that I could safely stow my wallet.)

Express is a bit of an exaggeration. Although it had no designated stops people still got off (and on) at random locations along the route. The getting on was particularly amusing. The bus had an attendant who would jump off, rustle up some people - usually backpackers - and basically push them running onto the bus as it sped up again. Several times I saw him actually grab a future passenger's ass for more purchase. I imagine this would be particularly disconcerting to unsuspecting tourists who are unfamiliar with Nicaragua's bus routes and rather lax ideas toward personal space. But I also imagine that if you turned around and slapped him you would miss your bus. Anyhoo, after about the fourth stop I looked at my Nica seat mate - a complete stranger - and we said at the exact same time "This is express?"

For some reason I was the only one to get off at the crossroads to San Juan del Sur instead of the Rivas bus station. I wasn't too pleased with this development because it meant that I had no leverage to bargain for a taxi. I was alone and stuck and the taxistas told me that there were NO collectivos (or mini buses) to get the rest of the way.  I did bargain them down $3 and hopped in a taxi with a guy with a twitch. That's really all I remember about him.

I arrived to San Juan del Sur, a party town/tourist trap on the Pacific coat at about lunch time. After dropping off my stuff at the hostel and seeing a text from my friend L that said "leave for Romanso at 10" I decided to get lunch and figure out what Romanso was and how to get there. At lunch I was sitting next to a couple of tourists from Germany and the Netherlands and after interrupting their conversation several times I asked to join them. They very much enjoyed their food while I thought that for an arm and a leg it relied too much on dressing. After the meal, the Dutch woman gave out toothpicks which I turned down politely. I am not a toothpick person and who knows where they were stowed in her bag*.

It turns out Remanso, spelled with an E. is a beach about 6k out of town and the only way to get there is a $10 taxi with no guarantee that I'd find my friends. I gambled on it. The taxi driver was a little startled when I told him I didn't need a ride back. I didn't see my friends at the bar so I assumed they were in the water surfing. I went to the shore and waved and yelled a bit at people who turned out not to be my friends and then decided to just go for a swim before worrying about how to get back into town. After about a half hour I thought I saw my buddy T. It was a little awkward because she was far away and in a bikini and I wasn't sure how to stare/get closer without creeping out this potential stranger. Anyhoo she seemed to shocked to see me just roll up on the beach by myself**.

It was all pretty tranquilo. I bought a beer so that I had access to the only bathroom for miles; read a bit; swam a bit more; and fell into a hole in the ocean and cut my foot open on what felt like a rusty shopping cart***.  Post-swimming/surfing we went back to the hotel for some cocktails and appetizers before venturing out for ridiculously cheap lobster tails and beer and ice cream.

The ice cream store was an experience. Filled with loud, semi-drunk Americans who didn't speak any Spanish the scooper guy was very plainly fed up with everyone. He slopped some chocolate ice  cream on my cone in a particularly precarious manner while rolling his eyes and cursing under his breath. I had to eat it leaning way over with legs spread wide to avoid spilling it all over my dress. It was delicious despite his scorn and derision.

Post-ice cream there was some drinking and dancing. I tried to get into the spirit of drunken party beach town but I went to bed around midnight. (This is not to say that I didn't enjoy myself. Just that I went to bed early****) The next morning I met the girls for breakfast, ie two for one margaritas on the beach before heading back to Managua.

I got some very conflicting reports on how to get back to Managua and even to Rivas so I decided to take a cab from San Juan to Rivas and catch the bus there. I bargained this guy down $5 and we set off. He asked me the normal questions like "Where you from? How old are you? Are you married? Have kids?" Knowing that this interrogation was coming I decided to lie about my age to make it seem slightly more acceptable that I'm single and childless. I decided to tell the taxista that I'm 25. Then he asked me how old I thought he was. Forgetting that I had lied about my age I said "Oh. About my age I guess." He was indeed 32. When he dropped me off at Rivas I asked some of the ladies selling refresco what time the bus would arrive and they told me that it would arrive from San Juan del Sur in about 15 minutes. I had basically just paid $10 to be propositioned... and to have a little extra time to pee and buy a candy bar.

The bus showed up right on time. I've written about bus travel in Bolivia but Nica buses are considerable more tightly packed and uncomfortable. Luckily the margarita breakfasts had primed me to fall asleep pretty much when my butt hit the ridiculously uncomfortable seat. I woke up just in time for a brief conversation with an attractive man who informed me that "Getting a tan is mind over matter, you wouldn't have to look like a lobster all the time if you really believed in yourself."

I should just believe!!!

That's all folks.

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*later that afternoon my friend T pointed out some Spinach in my teeth. Dutch girl should have been less subtle.
**later that evening L drunkenly told me that one of things that she loved about me was that I could figure shit out.
***Don't worry Mom. Got a tetanus booster in September 2013.
****The current discussion with my group of girlfriends is how I want to be a little old man when I grow up. I will wear cardigans and sit in the plaza playing dominoes and drinking homemade rum before going to bed early. This isn't the first time I've expressed this in Lenni's blog.