San Juan del Sur

I had debated about whether or not I wanted to go to San Juan del Sur on the Pacific Coast of Nicaragua. In the last15 years it's become the most touristy place in the country besides Granada and known as a party town, which was decidedly not what I was looking for. However, I felt I ought to see it just to say I had.

From Granada I took a chicken bus to Rivas. The bus was packed with travelers, most of whom were heading for Isla Ometepe which I took as a good sign that San Juan del Sur wouldn't be crowded with tourists until the weekend. It was only Wednesday. In Rivas I hopped on another chicken bus to San Juan del Sur. In all it was probably only about 3 hours of traveling or a little more if you count all the waiting on the buses before they left the bus stops. Many of these intercity buses wait until the bus fills up before they leave.

When I arrived in San Juan I met an American man named Oscar who was staying at a nearby hotel and suggested I stay there to which I agreed. The place was okay. Simple rooms with shared bathrooms. I dumped my backpacks and decided to wander down to the beach for a bit. It really is a lovely beach. It's a protected cove with massive cliffs on either side and a giant statue of Jesus standing on one of the hilltops looking over the town. He even lights up at night. The waves break close to shore and you can wade out quite a good distance to play in the waves. Just past where the waves break and continuing out to the entrance to the cove the water is filled with boats of all shapes and sizes. They were moored in the water and people would either get a ride out to them on a smaller boat or swim out to them. High tide came right up to the restaurants that lined the shore.

My flip flops were off as soon as I hit the beach and I walked through the shallows for a bit. The water is definitely warmer than in the Pacific Northwest, which is unsurprising since the temperature never gets below 70 Fahrenheit. It was more refreshing than I thought it would be though, which was a nice surprise.

After grabbing some tacos for dinner I headed back to the hotel just in time for the power to go out for the evening. This meant no internet, no running water, no fan, and no electricity, not necessarily in that order of importance. Luckily, I had everything charged so I was able to call home and talk to Mom and Dad and let them know I had arrived safely in San Juan del Sur.

The next morning, I had decided to switch hotels to one that was recommended by my guidebook. I told the owner that I was switching locations because some friends of mine had made reservations elsewhere. I didn't want her to feel bad and it wasn't a bad place, just not exactly what I wanted. The place I went was great. $10 US per night with a room with a fan, a double bed, and a private bathroom with hot water. It was the first hot water I'd seen in the country and actually much nicer than I thought it would be considering how hot it was in San Juan anyway.

The next day I wandered around San Juan some more and spent some time hanging out on the beach, jumping into the ocean when I got too hot. In the late afternoon I settled down at a little beachfront bar and restaurant with a Toña and my camera close at hand to watch a lovely sunset, complete with lightning in the distance over the hills north of town. I was joined for a bit by a rather drunken twenty-something year old guy named Garrett from the States who was certainly enjoying his first time abroad. He seemed like a nice guy but he was definitely in party mode. Every time I ran into him in town (it's a small town) the next few days he was quite drunk but always very friendly.

While grabbing dinner that evening I ran into an Isreali man I had met in Granada. He suggested I stop by his hostel, known as the party hostel, that evening where they were hosting a beer pong tournament. I went for about an hour or so but the crazy party scene was definitely not for me so I headed back to my hostel around 10 pm.

Friday, my friend Melani (the French woman I had met in Granada) arrived in San Juan and we met up for dinner before I headed out for a night tour to a turtle nesting beach. After having dinner with Melani, I headed over to the shop from which my tour was going to leave in the steadily increasing rain. My trusty driver for the tour Gonzalo showed up about 15 minutes late (not bad for Nicaraguan time) and then spent some time getting minutes on his phone so he could get in touch with the other people, a French couple, who we would be picking up on the way to the La Flor Wildlife Refuge where the nesting sites were located. The owner of the tour agency gave me a plastic disposable poncho to wear since I had not brought my raincoat for some illogical reason, which I was grateful for as over the course of the evening several rainstorms drenched us.

It was about an hour drive out to the turtle nesting beach. We started on paved roads that turned to cobblestone roads that turned to dirt and rocks quickly and remained so for the rest of the trip. The road wound up and down hills slippery with mud. About 15 minutes before arriving at the wildlife refuge we stopped and picked up the French couple that would be going on the tour as well.

Upon arrival at the center we paid our entrance fee and then made the short jaunt down to the beach, after stopping at an informational sign that talked about the kinds of turtles that lay their eggs on the beach. They only lay eggs at night and the hatching occurs at night as well. The Olive Ridley turtles were the primary type of turtle that arrived at La Flor in numbers that were staggering at times. I had missed the arribada (a time during the month when a thousand or more turtles come to the beach in one night) by a week. However, it was still nesting season and we were in luck. There were two turtles that were on the beach preparing to lay their eggs when we arrived. We were given red plastic to cover our lights so that we wouldn't scare the turtles away before they could lay their eggs.

As we walked along the beach to the area where the two turtles were laying their eggs we wound our way among broken eggs that were strewn in all directions. Everything from beetles to pigs to feral dogs to humans come to the beach and dig into the buried nests of eggs for sustenance. The number of baby turtles that survive each year has been dwindling due to this, as well as the fact that once they're born the must escape the clutches of crabs and various birds and other animals to make it to the water where a whole new host of predators await them. In order to combat the nature of the turtles has evolved and all of the baby turtles in each nest (90-100 per nest) are born at almost the same time and make their trek to the ocean together. It provides strength in numbers so although some will inevitably not make it to the water, some will.

When we arrived near the turtles, one had already dug her hole and was beginning to lay her eggs while the other was still deciding where she would dig her hole for her eggs. The park attendant who was there dug out behind the turtle to expose the hole where she was laying the eggs and we could watch the whole process. After she finished laying the eggs, but before she started covering them up, the park attendant began removing the eggs. I asked him why he was removing them and his answer had much to do with the problems I just mentioned. He said because of all the challenges that have arisen with so many predators hunting and eating the eggs, that when there's only a few turtles that come up on the beach in between the arribadas they collect the eggs. The eggs are taken to incubators at the wildlife reserve where they are kept until they hatch and then realized back into the ocean. It is impossible to do during the arribadas when the beach is little covered with turtles, but when there are less turtles they are able to protect and ensure the hatching of at least some of the eggs. From the two nests that evening they collected over 180 eggs. The eggs are about the size and color of ping pong balls although they are much softer, surprisingly soft. I didn't touch them but you could tell as the attendant was collecting them together in a bag to be taken up to the incubator.

As you can see the pictures are rather dark. I had read up on the best way to be able to see the turtle nesting without doing harm and it had been reiterated by the park attendants and one of the things they mentioned was important was to not use a flash when taking pictures of the turtles because it could scare them and prevent them from laying their eggs. I already mentioned the red lenses which was another way to minimize the light. It was also suggested not to touch the turtles for the same reasons. As we watched another group of tour-goers showed up to watch the nesting. However, their guide seemed more concerned with putting on a show for his group rather than worrying about the ecological consequences of his actions. He allowed them to touch the animals and take their pictures with flashes. It was definitely frustrating to witness and at one point I mentioned to one of the girls that she shouldn't take pictures with a flash and that seemed to put an end to that at least. After the turtles laid their eggs we headed back up the path to the cars to head back to San Juan del Sur where I got dropped off back at my hotel.

Saturday I spent most of the day heading down to the Costa Rican border to renew my tourist card, a decidedly frustrating process and one that, in the end, I'm not sure was really necessary since my passport was stamped with a 90-day visa and the immigration official really didn't seem to care that my 30-day tourist card was already overdue. Supposedly they charge you $2 a day if you're over, but this guy didn't seem to even look at the card. Plus, there are all these people who want to "help" you with everything who in the end are just trying to rip you off because you can do everything without their help even if it is a bit confusing and this border crossing was definitely confusing. Nothing was particularly well-marked and there were probably 300 yards of no man's land in between the Nicaraguan and Costa Rican immigration and customs posts. Some of the "helpers" tried to tell me that I had to wait three days in Costa Rica which was a frightening proposition considering I only had my purse with my passport and enough money to get over the border and back and return to San Juan for the evening. But even this proved to be less than honest. I do think that if I had clearly been coming and going for several months they might have wanted me to stay in Costa Rica, but no one said a word to me about it other than the "helpers." However, everything worked out just fine and I was back in San Juan four hours after I left.


I met up again with Melani for dinner and she told me about a tourist couple who had been robbed at knife point the night before. They were walking back to their hostel from another hostel drunk at one in the morning when they were confronted by three Nicaraguans brandishing knives. They took all their money and the girl had her camera and her debit card on her so those were taken as well. It brought home to me just how careful you have to be when traveling. Thus why I don't go out and get drunk at night. And if I do go out at night I tend to stay in the surrounds of the hotel or hostel I'm staying at and in well-lit areas. I only take the cash I plan on spending that night and never take my camera, debit card, or anything else that I would rather not have stolen. And I'm definitely not wandering the streets at 1:00 am or usually any later than 9:00 pm when there are still many Nicaraguans out and about. It's easy to get a false sense of security when you've been traveling for a while and nothing has happened, but nowhere (even at home in the U.S.) is completely safe and it's smart to be cautious wherever you are. I'm not arguing for being paranoid of everything and everyone, but there are certain steps you can take to be cautious and I think those are just good rules to follow regardless of wherever you happen to be. I felt it important to share this information because it is something that many travelers face as outsiders in another culture, but I also wanted to assure you that I do take precautions to protect myself as much as possible.

Last days in Granada

I spent a few more days in Granada after that, mainly trying to decide where I was heading next. I met a group of women travelers, many of whom had been traveling alone but had met up on the road. There were two women from the U.S., two from Australia, one from Burundi who lives in Europe now, one from France, and one from the Netherlands. It was affirming to talk to them and realize that they had similar experiences to me and so interesting to hear their tales of travel up and down Latin America. We all went out to dinner one night and it was nice to have the camaraderie and companionship of a group of women who were on similar adventures to mine. The morning after we had dinner most of the women left for Laguna de Apoyo and then on to Isla Ometepe. 

I also met some Peace Corps Volunteers serving in Nicaragua and it was great to talk to them about their experiences in Peace Corps and share some of mine. It was also interesting to see the commonalities that exist in Peace Corps regardless of the country you're in. From having to fill out the quarterly reports on our projects, to the cultural faux pas that we all inevitably make, to the moments of feeling like we've finally been accepted into the community we live in.

My last night in Granada I went with Inga, the Dutch woman, to an old church called Iglesia de la Merced (built in 1534 then rebuilt after it was sacked and burned in 1670) that was rumored to have the best view in town from its bell tower. We headed up near sunset after paying our $1 US entrance fee. As the sun sank the light changed and lit up the roofs and buildings of Granada as long shadows stretched ever further. The silence was intermittently disturbed by the extremely loud church bells literally a few feet from our heads and rung with no warning whatsoever. But the views of the volcano, the lake, and the city were certainly lovely. You could even see Isla Ometepe of in the distance which is rare. However, it was definitely time for me to move on from Granada and see more of this unique country.

Iglesia de La Merced

Isla Ometepe with its dual volcanoes in the background.

 

 

Dia de los Muertos

After a few quiet days mainly spent reading and relaxing at the hostel (and avoiding the crazy Halloween parties going on in and around Granada), I was looking forward to the more somber and respectful celebration of Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). It’s a much more humbly celebrated day in Nicaragua than you might see in some other Central American countries. I walked the 20 blocks or so to the huge cemetery in Granada. It really is a beautiful city, full of churches and brightly painted houses, some dating back to colonial days. 

The cemetery was full of people. Vendors outside the gates and wandering all the paths sold everything from flowers real and fake, to plastic statues of Jesus and the Virgin Mary, to all sorts of food and drink. It was a hot sunny day and people ambled by with umbrellas or sat in the shade of the large trees that dotted some areas of the landscape, or sat in the shade of the mausoleums for their relatives. People carried armloads of flowers, decorations, shovels, buckets, brooms, and paint for the graves of their deceased loved ones. 

I arrived in the afternoon and many people had come and gone again in the morning, leaving fresh cement, fresh paint, fresh flowers, and clean ground around the graves of their ancestors. But many others were hard at work clearing away a year’s worth of weeds, leaves, dirt, and dust. Some were mixing cement to patch the cracks that the intense tropical climate can create so quickly. Other were repainting the graves in white. Those that weren’t able to afford a plaque for the grave of their loved one repainted on the names or sometimes simply a symbol. And further back in the cemetery away from the roads were the more simple graves with only a rough cross made of stone or wood marking where they lay. Some were marked with a name, but many others were only the simple crosses, and still others that lacked even that, but were just as carefully tended and taken care of as the large mausoleums near the front of the cemetery. Some of the graves had flowers or trees planted in them that will continue to grow into the future.

There were huge walls of graves of the young men who fought against the Contras (who were trained and armed by the U.S. in the 1980s because of fear of the socialist leanings of one of the poorest countries in the region). Many young people on both sides died during this time and the stacks of graves of young men in their 20s was a harsh reminder of the true cost of war. The repercussions can still be felt in Nicaragua to this day.