It's been one hell of a week since I last wrote. The film crew took off on Sunday, only to be replaced by Ismael, Marie and Mathias on Monday. The next 2 days were a whirlwind of activity as everyone else prepared for a long awaited trip to Cuba and I attempted to meet with all 15 people on my list. This would have been a lot easier had we all had our own transportation. Instead, we had to balance all 5 of our schedules in such a way that Victor, our driver, could chauffeur us all back and forth to a myriad of destinations all across the city. With the exception of a few minor issues, this actually worked out fairly well.
On Wednesday morning, I got up with the Cuba crew at 5am to say goodbye and deal with a few last minute logistics before crawling back into bed to wait for Victor's return. Alas, sleeping was not to be an option. No sooner had I closed my eyes than the phone started ringing. Dragging myself up from my mattress on the floor, I was informed by G that despite their best intentions to travel to Cuba on French passports, he and Mathias had to first exit the country on their American passports. So, after locating said passports, I caught a cab and managed to reach the airport with enough to time for everyone to get on their way.
The rest of the morning was spent running errands and locating various items that are completely unavailable in Bluefields. By the time I made it to the only place in the city that ships to Bluefields, it was already early afternoon and I had yet to make it to Matagalpa, 2hrs north of Managua, where I was scheduled to tour a hotel school. Getting back in the Magi-Boogy (our trusty VW van), Victor and I grabbed a bite to eat and started the long drive north. I'd love to tell you all about the sights along the way, but having only slept about 2hrs the night before, it wasn't long before I was passed out across the back seat of the bus.
Cresting a hill at the entrance to Matagalpa, we were greeted with a beautiful view of the city. The whole town is built in a valley ringed by towering mountains on all sides. Throughout the city church steeples rise above the corrugated metal roofs and city parks dot the landscape. After driving around asking everyone we met if they knew of the hotel school we were searching for, we finally happened across our destination. I was greeted by a lovely young lady who took me around and showed me all the different courses and classrooms. They had everything from cooking to computers to sewing and hairdressing. They also had quite a nice, simple auditorium with louvered glass panels for nearly the whole height of the walls.
Having taken lots of pictures and asked all my questions, I climbed back in the van and Victor maneuvered his way through the steep streets and we headed back out of town. On the way back I was delighted to discover that my Spanish has improved to the point of being functional and I enjoyed a lovely 2hr conversation with only minor miscommunications.
Back at the house, I made some food for myself and Rafael and started chatting with him about my plans for the rest of the week. When he heard that I was headed to San Juan del Sur the following day, he very shyly asked if he might be able to join me for the ride. Seeing no reason to force him to stay locked in the house for yet another day of mind-dumbing marathon television, I told him it wouldn't be a problem as long as his dad could come watch the house for the day. Clearly excited, he called home right away and made all the appropriate arrangements.
Bright and early the next morning, Victor, Rafael and myself were on our way south to San Juan del Sur, a world class surfing and vacation local. The intention was to get there, meet with a real estate agent who would show me around the local ecolodges and green-roof projects, visit an earthship construction project and make it back to Managua. Apparently, mother nature had other plans in mind.
As we approached SJS, the skies opened up and let loose all the water they'd been storing up for the past 6 months and traffic slowed to a crawl. The roads turned to mud and visibility depended entirely on wind direction. During a slight break in the storm, we found ourselves at what will one day be a bridge over the river, but which is currently a jumble of concrete and steel. Without the bridge, the only way to continue is to drive down the slope, through the river and up the other side. Confident in the power of Miss Magi-Boogy, Victor steered us down through the rushing brown water that crested the wheels as we passed through to the other side.
Once in San Juan del Sur, the rains started up again and the roads turned to rivers. Stopping in the market for some lunch, we kept our feet up off the ground and moved seats as the holes in the ceiling got progressively larger and closer. After quite a yummy meal, we made our way to Aroura Realty where, dripping wet, I was to meet my guide for the day. A phone call and a short wait later he showed up only to inform me that due to the hurricane we were in the middle of, all the roads were washed out and no one was going in or out of the town that day. Slightly frustrated, but with few available options, we sat down at a beachfront bar and enjoyed a cold beer. As we waited for the rains to subside, I was mesmerized by the repeated scene of gangs of fishermen attempting to salvage overturned and half submerged boats from the violent seas. First, a team of men would wade out as far as they could stand while their friends hauled on the bowline trying to bring their craft closer to the shore. As soon as it reached the first group, the would begin pushing it in towards shore, all the while battling pounding surf and violent currents. As I watched, at least 3 boats were salvaged and brought to shore.
Once the rains had subsided enough to see more than 5 feet, I ventured out to check out the ocean and was pleasantly surprised to discover that the water was warmer than the cold raining coming from above. Seeing that we still weren't going anywhere fast, Victor, Rafael and myself ventured further down the beach, away from the fishing boats, and decided to go for a swim. The water was gloriously warm, but incredibly murky due to the churning of the tides and runoff from the swollen rivers. Nonetheless, we passed a lovely hour or so hopping over waves and riding giant swells back in to shore.
After about an hour or so of calm weather, I figured it was time to try my luck at Aurora again. No go. All the roads were still washed out and there was little hope of any change before sundown. A little disheartened, I called up my second contact to see if I might have better luck getting out to the "casa llanta" earthship. Of course, reading the directions I had been given, which included the phrase, 'turn left into the creek,' I should have known that would not be a possibility. Nonetheless, Dave, who heads up the project for a couple weeks at a time, was willing to come into town and chat. So, I spent a lovely hour or so chatting about different building techniques and the logistics of acquiring bottles, tires and cans for use as construction materials. I also made plans to go out to the site early the next morning should I still be in SJS and assuming the roads were once again passable.
Not quite believing all the reports and wishing to see the extent of our isolation for ourselves, I climbed back into the Magi-Boogy and Victor drove us out to half finished bridge we had passed to come in. When we arrived, there was a line of trucks and buses stretching half a mile down the road, all waiting for the river to withdraw. Parking at the end of this long line of cars, we went on foot to the front of the line and were greeted by 15ft of rapidly flowing water rushing across the road we had passed only a few hours before.
Resigned to our fate we returned to town, played a few rounds of pool, had a few beers and located the cheapest hotel in town. Securing rooms, we said goodnight and reunited at the crack of dawn. The next morning dawned clear and bright, leaving few reminders of the havoc of the day before. Meeting up with Dave we ventured down a long dirt road past homemade cockfighting rings and ramshackle workshops til we did indeed turn left into the creek bed. Unfortunately, the creek was a bit deeper and the sand a bit softer than normal so we ended up parking where the car stopped itself and walking the rest of the way.
Very glad to have at least seen one of the 3 places I had planned to visit, I eventually returned to the car and we headed back towards Managua. Three hours later I found myself back at casa Ivan where a cold shower and a bite to eat commenced another long day. This one included various trips around town for last minute supplies, which was complicated by the fact that Friday was mother's day and all the construction supply stores were closed. Later, after finishing almost all the errands I had on my list, I had victor drop me off at the bus station and began the long journey back to Bluefields via the overnight bus/panga.
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