As promised, while on la isla, I took lots of photos. Life on the Island of Ometepe is much more tranquillo and laid back then life in Granada. One of the first differences I noticed is that Ometepe and many of the towns I traveled through to get there are much more Sandinista than conservative Granada. This is evidenced by the familiar negro y rojo of the Sandinista flag tagging telephone poles, park benches, casas, and tiendas.
Once upon a time, the majestic mountain Mombacho exploded raining down ash and earth into the surrounding lake. Earth took root, as earth will do, and formed 365 isletas en el lago. As the name isleta implies, the islands are small – sometimes only large enough for a single house.
What a whirlwind weekend!
Saturday afternoon, my sister and I set off for la pescina. A day at the pool seemed like a grand idea, as it was hot and humid and not even noon yet. In order to get to the pool, it’s necessary to walk down La Calzada. La Calzada is the main street where people congregate. It’s lined with bars, restaurants, tour groups, and shops. All of the restaurants have a smattering of tables in the streets in order to both take advantage of the cool breeze and promote their tasty food. This outdoor seating makes for a social atmosphere, as tourists, locals, and street kids all congregate together. This also means that a walk down La Calzada can take anwhere from 15-30 minutes, as you run into person after familiar person.
Por ejamplo, on Friday night, my sister and I left the house to grab a couple of ice cream cones and a liter of Tona when my sister heard some voices calling my name. Read the rest of this entry
Roosters in Nicaragua behave much as dogs do in the States. When one crows, they all begin cock-a-doodle-doodeling up and down the street. There’s one rooster that appears to come from next door and has a voice that sounds like a person doing a poor impression of a rooster. He’s always second to chime in when the string of cock-a-doodle-doodeling starts up. Between these guys and the geckos that sound like knuckles rapping at my door and mangoes falling on a tin roof, I slept poorly last night.
My alarm went off early, but I was long awake gazing at the sun shining in the patio garden and the mosquitoes fighting for entry on the opposite side of the mosquitero. I whirl-winded myself up and to the bathroom, dressing fast so that I’d be ready for the taxi driver at 7:15. On a whim, I opened my front door at 6:55, and the taxi pulled up 5 minutes later. Hola! Read the rest of this entry