Post-Travels

What have I been up to? A picture is worth a thousand words!

The One with a Crazy Border-to-Border Adventure

Scabby (front) and Peepa
(adorable brindle-colored Shepard mix)
escorting us to the dock

"Run!" I shouted, the whir of a boat engine sounding in the distance. It was 11:57, our boat off the Island was scheduled to leave at 12:00, and the dock was still not in sight! Alongside the two gringo girls, laden with clunky backpacks and laughing at how ridiculous we both looked, trotted Peepa and Scabby, the hostel dogs. We ran through a thicket and onto the dock seeing to our dismay that the boat taxi had already launched. A dock hand saw us running, quickly turned around and started shouting at the boat driver who, thankfully, heard him and turned the boat around to grab us stragglers. Peepa tried to get in with us, and whined and barked in alarm when I kept pushing her away from the boat. The two of us had formed a bond while on the Island and neither of us wanted to part.

"She probably does this with everyone." Kalyn suggested, hoping to ease the tug on my heartstrings as Peepa stood at the end of the dock, us pulling away to the sound of her whines. 

"Ya, but she's so freaking cute! I wonder if she could be my carry-on when I go home..." I joked, finally allowing myself to look away as we picked up speed and headed back to the mainland. 

Leaving our friends at Palmar was difficult, having formed instant friendships and a deep appreciation for the eco-friendly sustainable hostel - a claim many lodgings make but few actually follow through on. Once back from the Island Kalyn and I were joined by Tony, a Bradley Cooper look-alike, rugby dropout, and chain-smoking accountant who we had met at Palmar. The three of us traveled into the mountains to stay at Lost & Found: a random "eco" hostel in the middle of the jungle -twenty minute killer walk to get to the place included. Being a highly recommended hostel from Tony and in the Lonely Planet Guidebook, I should've braced myself for what was in store: an over-priced, flash-packer (backpackers who travel with obscene amounts of money, designer clothes, and an itinerary that usually included visiting every bar in the country) filled hostel of epically disappointing quality.

Climbing Tree Beard:
 a massive jungle tree found on our hike

Making food, eating meals, hanging out, or enjoying the view were all either out of the question or hastily done as we were surrounded by a constant haze of second-hand smoke, obliviously provided by the dozen or so hostel guests, ALL of whom smoked. As our agitation grew over not even being able to make eggs without some moronic chain-smoker sauntering over (a cloud in his wake, and chatting with us as if filling the kitchen with cigarette smoke was perfectly normal and welcomed), we agreed to take a short hike in the jungle before getting the hell out of the place while our lungs were still functioning. 

Needing to head back to Nicaragua for my flight, we made a gameplan: get across the Panama-Costa Rica border, and try to get to San Jose to sleep in the airport for free before heading to the Costa Rica-Nicaragua border in the morning. 

We were picked up almost immediately by a postal delivery worker who grew increasingly agitated as Kalyn stumbled over a conversation, trying to keep up with his rapid-fire, rrrrr-rolling, crazy Panamanian accent. He dropped us off in David (pronounced Dave-eed) before jetting back to work. We ate lunch and then spent 25 minutes failing to get a ride as nearly every passing driver waved their head "no" or pointed ahead in response to our smiles. Frustrated and curious, we walked around the bend in the road to discover we were less than 100 meters from a police station...no wonder no one was willing to pick us up! Walking another half mile down the road, we quickly hailed a ride from a wonderful middle-aged woman who had spent the 70's in San Francisco sharing "free love and the peace sisterhood". 

Hitching is tiring work!

She drove past her own house to drop us off at a more convenient location to get a ride to the border. We were then picked up and driven for about a half hour by a truck full of rowdy and hilarious 30-somethings, one of who jokingly offered to buy me a giant diamond ring in exchange for marriage and a green card into the United States. Riding with a lovely family (including Grandma), we finally arrived at the border! We spent a very comical hour getting wrong directions to and from immigration offices for our passport stamps, but were finally able to cross into Costa Rica! 

Raffa and Kalyn in conversation

We began walking North and within a mile, a knight in a shining semi-truck pulled over; his name was Raffa and he is possibly the kindest, loveliest gentlemen in all of Central America! Raffa drove us for seven hours, insisting on buying us drinks, snacks, dinner, and candy. He stopped at several breathtaking vistas, and cheerfully informed Kalyn and I (after we had tinkled on the side of the road) that he has a pee-bucket to avoid wading into the long Costa Rican grass to do his business: less likely to get attacked by snakes or bitten by poisonous spiders that way. Good to know we had escaped death, i will forever think twice before poppin'-a-squat in the jungle! Raffa took us to dinner at an all-night truck diner where owner Jose (a friend of Raffa's) informed us we were well past San Jose and that it wouldn't be safe to try and find a place to camp at Raffa's final destination, especially in the middle of the night. Luckily, Jose was just as incredibly helpful as Raffa and offered for us to shower and sleep in the back of his restaurant. He even promised to find us a ride to Nicaragua! 

Camping, sketchy restaurant style!

A little past 4am we were gently roused by Jose who informed us a trucker was leaving for Mexico and that he could give us a ride North.

"Awesome." I said.

"He leaves in 5 minutes." Jose responded. We practically fell out of the tent, threw on our shoes, and somehow managed to be packed up and walking to the parking-lot within the time frame. Half-awake we were introduced to Miguel who, despite the hour, happily asked Kalyn question after question. We drove for several hours and mid-morning Miguel pulled off the road and into a tiny village.

"Do they have tiny villages in the truck driver/hitchhiker horror movies?" I asked Kalyn. Before she could respond Miguel grabbed a duffle bag from the back and said in English, laundry. 

We hopped out, and after Miguel ducked into a house, we entertained ourselves for several minutes on a playground. Several minutes later we wandered around and abandoned school, and in another couple minutes we began to wonder where Miguel was... 

Nearly and hour passed before Miguel, toting a voluptuous woman and fresh clothes, called us over to the truck. Unlocking the door, Miguel was grinning like a 17-year-old on prom night. We were introduced to Miguel's novia (girlfriend) Marina before all of us climbed into the truck. 

"Guess we know what laundry really means now..." I winked at Kalyn, nodding to the couple sitting up front. 

"An HOUR!" Kalyn quietly spoke, outraged that Miguel had locked us out of the truck without so much as a warning as to how long his laundry was going to take! We rode another half hour before Miguel explained his truck needed to get checked for drugs at the border, which would take a while, and did we want to be picked up on the other side? 

Kindly declining, we grabbed our gear, profusely thanked Miguel, said goodbye to Marina and walked ourselves to the border crossing. 

16 hours later: The final leg to the border!

Kalyn was nervous going into customs...on several previous visits she had been detained for up to three hours, for no other reason than being white and American. We handed over our passports to the Costa Rican Offical who took one look at our entry stamps and called over his superior. I looked at Kalyn, who's face became very serious, and shrugged my shoulders. Rapid spanish was spoken between the two as they both looked over our passports. 

"What's going on?"

"This isn't happening." Kalyn whispered.

I caught the word rapido  and realized what the fuss was about; we had only crossed into Costa Rica 17 hours prior....they didn't believe us that we could get to the Northern border so fast! With a little joking, some unabashed flirting, and twenty-four dollars, we were able to convince them to let us leave Costa Rica.

 Crossing into Nicaragua was a breeze. As we sat on a bus bound for our final vacation destination, Kalyn and I agreed that the past 24 hours had been the craziest and best of the trip so far! 

-Ashley

 

The One with the Man Married to Himself

“This is it, I can feel it,” Kalyn said as a mangy looking pickup truck roared toward us. The truck slowed as the two men inside looked at our outstretched arms, the thumb enthusiastically stuck out skyward, and finally rollled to a stop on the side of the road. “I knew it!” Kalyn exclaimed as she hurried to the passengers side door to exchange information.

They were headed to the Panama border and so were we, a match made in heaved! We clamored into the back of the bed, sitting back into our backpacks, our legs outstretched toward the open tailgate, the ground whizzing past as we picked up speed. Local school-aged children smiled and waved as we passed, some giggling as we waved back shouting “Buenas Dias!”

It had only taken us about six minutes to get our first ride (we were picked up by a pair of surfers-one Australian and the other South African) once on to the highway the boys asked whether we were headed to the real border crossing or the unofficial border crossing. Wanting stamps in our passport to ensure we weren't thrown in jail, we opted for the first option. Hopping out of the truck, we gave thanks and said our goodbyes as the truck headed East and we began walking West. Several minutes passed as we walked by literally thousands of banana trees, blue bags covering each bushel of bananas waiting to be picked and shipped to Del Monte processing factories. A blue semi-truck blew past us and then came to a screeching halt, sending wafts of burnt breaks and leaving skid marks several feet long on the hot pavement. Kalyn and I exchanged looks knowing this was the beginning of many a horror film... I shrugged my shoulders, we both laughed, and then jogged to talk to the driver. Our rock climbing skills came in handy as we hauled ourselves up to the open door. 

Kalyn unloading!

The drivers name was Carlos, he was 33 years old and had four children and was hauling Bananas to a Del Monte plant near the border. In broken Spanish, Kalyn asked about the many buttons ans switches in the cabin and then we shrieked with laughter as Kalyn pulled a wire sending a massive blast of sound out of the horn. Getting out at the banana plant, we walked less than a half-mile and were examining a crispy dead snake on the road when, unprompted, a car pulled over. We jumped in and about five minutes later realized we were in a taxi! The driver sent Kalyn into near panic when he told her he would be charging us for the ride and that the border crossing would cost nearly $50 for the both of us. We probably had about 29 bucks between us and as Kalyn translated, I began mirroring her outrage. The driver (who must've understood every word we were exchanging) began to laugh, first quietly, then heartily as Kalyn asked, “Are you messing with us? He's messing with us! I can't believe this!” (There were exactly four swear words I left out of that rant, i'm guessing if you know Kalyn you can figure out what words and where they go). We gave the driver a dollar at the border and crossed uneventfully into Panama.

A very "official" looking border crossing
complete with a marriage proposal (to me)
from the immigration official. 

Several buses and a boat taxi later (costing a whopping 10 bucks between the two of us), we found ourselves on Bocas Del Toro Island walking with several volunteers toward Palmar Tent Lodge, our home for the next several days. On the boat and during the walk we became fast friends with J.C., a rugby playing ultra-hiker who hails from Alaska, Lori, a beautiful earthy 20-something from Oregon, and Tortuga AKA Sophie, a quiet but fun college dropout with a “connection” with the local sea turtles who comes from Washington. We've spent the past three days living in Paradise in the company of these three spirited individuals and the other two dozen or so guests at the eco lodge.

Kalyn, Me, J.C., Tortuga (Sophie), Lori

Home Sweet Home!

The first evening we setup camp and got familiar with the facilities including a gorgeous rainwater fed outdoor shower, quaint hostel-style kitchen, a beautiful wooden main lodge, and stunning white-sand beach.

The first night we were here we spent several late-night hours combing the beaches for leather-back turtles coming ashore to lay eggs. J.C. informed us that he and the girls had watched a turtle over eight feet in length and nearly four feet in height spend several hours digging false holes before laying her eggs in a hole carved more than a meter deep into the sand. At nearly two in the morning we gave up and trudged back to bed. The sun rises around 5AM everyday, so sleeping in an open-netted tent in the jungle allows for about a 7AM “sleep in” until the sun is too bright and the humid air too hot to stay sleeping for long. We lazily spent the morning swimming, boarding, and reading on the beach before realizing we were burnt to a crisp despite being fairly tan and wearing sunscreen. We headed into the lodge, grateful for the shade and easy-listening tunes. As the sun lowered in the sky we ventured on a walk that took us in and out of the jungle and onto several stunning beaches before we stopped at an abandoned bar and headed back, taking advantage of some photos with the numerous pieces of driftwood and trees washed ashore.

As night descended, we mingled with volunteers and guests, eating a five-course meal of freshly prepared fish dishes reminiscent of a certain trip in Mexico involving a week of fishy meals. As we were cleaning up someone ran up the steps and shouted TURTLE!!! sending everyone in the lodge running for the beach. We made it to the volleyball court before slowing as a massive round shape came into view under the moonlight. Slowly, leaving a four-foor-wide tractor wheel trail in the sand, a leatherback sea turtle made her way ashore. We watched from a distance as she circled an area and began digging, her passive front fins sending sand flying through the air. After nearly a half hour of shallow false-holes, she began digging deep into the sand. Another half-hour passed before she re-positioned her body over the hole and cautiously lowered eggs into their nest. We watched as round white eggs of several different sizes (I didn't know turtles laid eggs of various sizes) began to pile up, first slowly, then rapidly until we estimated nearly four dozen eggs lay snuggly together. The five-foot-long ancient looking mother maneuvered her tail and hind legs as she gently covered her babies, softly packing the sand down to protect them. Kalyn and I looked at each-other, amazed at what we had witnessed, and both feeling a twinge of guilt of invading the century-old endangered mother's reproductive process. Although we kept a respectful distance, the power of the moment resonated with us as something sacred.

Not my photo, but the turtle
we saw was similar to this size!

It had taken over an hour for the turtle to lay her eggs, and as she made her way back to sea we left the beach as quietly as we could. Slipping into bed, we both fell fast asleep despite the busy symphony of animal and insect noises outside the tent. Waking in the morning to searing pain on my back, I realized Kalyn had already awoken and left for the lodge. Following suit, I washed my face in the conch-shell fed rainwater sink, and joined Kalyn, the girls, and J.C. For breakfast. J.C. was leaving in the afternoon and spent the morning downing rum-punch and pineapple cocktails while regaling us with stories from his 15,000 miles of backpacking across North and South America, his wild fishing days in Alaska, and a hilarious 40^th birthday party in Mexico involving- and I kid you not: getting legally married to himself! He sadly parted, leaving me with one of the coolest pieces of camping gear i've ever seen: a homemade beer-can stove that weighs less than 3 grams, boils water in less than 5 minutes, and was a trusted travel companion of J.C.'s for 11 years. I am STOKED and can't wait to use it!

I learned that me gardening is the equivalent
 of sticking Kalyn on a rugby pitch and telling her,
"just go for it!"... I was clueless but managed to only pull
out one "weed" that was actually hibiscus flower bush

Today Kalyn and I worked for several hours in exchange for a night's lodging. We pulled weeds just like the good ol' days and transplanted a few adorable little baby fern bushes!   

We haven't exactly figured out what we are doing when the sun rises tomorrow, but we plan on maybe heading East into the mountains and finally, North back toward our final destination of Nicaragua!

-Ashley

Fun fact: During a conversation with the owners of Palmar Lodge, we mentioned being from Chico. Turns out a couple from Chico, Jenn and Jake (something), were departing from the Palmar dock just as we were arriving...what are the odds?   

The One with the Slowest-Caused Traffic Jam in History

Traffic had come to a standstill, a bus screeched to a halt and several men jumped from a van to run into the street...something was causing all this chaos and Kalyn and I were just in time to catch the action! We maneuvered our way around taxis, trucks, and several gawking tourists and were absolutely SHOCKED to see what lay in the road... a Sloth moving ever so slowly across the road – at a pace closely resembling roadkill. I guess we were officially in the jungles of Costa Rica, where you are just as likely to run into a sloth or monkeys as a you are a household cat!

No, he didn't get run over, a local lady says the yellow is a distinguishing mark of his gender.

After Mom left Kalyn and I to our own devices, we devised a skeleton of a plan: head south toward Panama, Island hop, see the Panama Canal, and somehow make it back to Nicaragua in time for me to catch a flight home (a solid 24 hours before having to take my last two finals of college). The plan so far has landed us in the rasta-influnced surfing village of Puerto Veijo on the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica – nearly walking distance from Panama. We got in late, managed to talk a hostel owner into letting us pitch a tent on her porch for $4, and settled into a restless muggy night of sleep. We awoke with a determined plan to “see the sights” of Puerto Veijo, which basically translates to rent a cruiser bike (the most common form of transportation in these parts) and ride as far as the road would take us.  

We ran into the sloth within the first three miles of our ride. Giddy with the excitement of seeing such an exotic animal just chillin' on the road, we picked up the pace determined to find more adventures. Passing one giant resort and trendy restaurant after another, buildings eventually became more and more sparse as the jungle loomed with bigger and bigger trees, more exotic flora, and a noticeable increase in wildlife noise. We passed a dirt road Kalyn read a sign in Spanish that loosely translated meant, “Big Ass Tree”, so of course we had to go see it! We took our cruiser bikes along a rough dirt road for the better part of a mile, ducking to avoid MASSIVE spider webs reaching 3-4 feet in diameter and praying our bikes would handle the rocks without breaking, possibly leaving us stranded in the jungle miles from town! We reached a really big tree, and were about ready to ride on in search of what promised to be an even bigger tree when we heard the throaty barks of not-so-friendly dogs.

Angle doesn't do it justice,
 but this tree was MEGA

“I think this tree is big enough.” Kalyn stated, looking up the road toward the sound of the dogs.

“For sure, lets take pictures before the dogs find us!” I said, pulling out my camera to snap shots of what still amounts to one of the biggest trees i've ever seen in my life!

This wasn't even one of the big ones, it was just the only
one I was willing to get this close to!

We rode back to the main road and decided that with only a few hours of light left, it was time to head back for dinner. On our way back we passed several families of monkeys – the howler monkeys were hugely intimidating and their howls sounded through the jungle long after we passed them -how the locals sleep with these guys around is beyond me! Just before reaching town we pedaled out to the beach to experience our first dip in the Caribbean Ocean. The water was warm but the waves were huge so we opted to get our feet wet and call it good. Clamoring out of the sand, we rode across the street to a “Soda” which basically means ghetto cheap restaurant, often with really good food! We weren't disappointed as I scarfed down an incredible fish fillet and giallo pinto -rice and beans (the staple food of Central America).

Tomorrow we make the last push to Panama and hope to make it to the Bocas Islands where we will camp, hike, and swim ourselves silly before heading to the big city!

-Ash

Fun Fact: While writing this blog, I shared a table with several Rasta-men who were a few beers deep. Their language fluidly jumped between Jamacian-influenced English and Spanish depending on who joined the conversation. During the banter, a man received a video call from his son and after a hilarious 10 minute conversation between father and son (who must be a toddler), Dad gave his parting words:

“Stop your fighting, quit your crying, behave yourself, do your schoolwork, and treat your mother right or i'll whoop your ass. Oh, and score five goals tomorrow! One love for me and you boy!”...I think this guy could write a book on parenting!  

The One Where Mom and the Girls FLY!

“I haven't been this close to a man in a long time!”, 

Sure we can all fit!

I commented to Mom as a thoroughly uncomfortable and embarrassed Nicaraguan man had to press against me (the Gringo girl) as they loaded four more people into the back of the bus.

“I count thirty from the last two seats back!” Weston, a friend of Kalyn's shouted over the roar of the engine. It was just past 6AM and the three Bocasts were smashed into a corner of a bus who's sign read “Max. Capacity 45”...there were at least 120 people inside the bus...who knows how many were catching a ride on top!

“They can't possibly fit anymore people in here!” I shouted at Kalyn, who's entire backside was pressing me into the bus wall, thus holding me upright.

“We're in Nicaragua! There's always room for one more!” Kalyn laughed as the bus slowed, the emergency exit door opened, and a mother and two little girls climbed up, only able to get halfway inside. Their extra appendages dangled precariously outside as we sped up the road. I guess Kalyn was right!

Ashley CHS '04, Cody CHS '03, Kalyn CHS '06 

Thus began the first leg of a 14 hour saga that began in Ometepe, Nicaragua and ended in the windy mountains of Santa Elena, Costa Rica. We had spent five wonderful days on the Island exploring, playing, and most importantly – relaxing! After the exhausting horseback ride to the Waterfall, we took things pretty easy. Kalyn and I had a short-lived excursion to a hostel called Little Morgan's where we met up with fellow Chico High alumni Cody Pickering. After a quick visit in the company of a dozen absolutely hammered young travelers, we bid adieu to Cody and cautiously walked the two miles back to our hotel. In the pitch black, we strode in the center of the cobblestone road, making sure to avoid eye contact with the packs of dogs who came howling and growling out of every house we passed.

The magnificent view from Project Bona Fide's tree house

During our down time we made our way to Project Bona Fide, the permaculture farm Kalyn has been living and working at for the past five months. There we met what must be every hippie south of Mexico as we shared a few meals and got a tour of the farm. My personal favorite part of which was Kalyn showing me the composting toilet at warning me to “watch out for the tarantulas that live inside” (if I needed to) go”. Needless to say, I suddenly didn't need to “go” for the rest of the day! We watched a gorgeous sunset over Conception, the largest of two volcanoes on the Island before heading back into town via a rambling trail lit by lightening bugs and lightening!

Kalyn hanging onto Weston's 8ft high hammock!

Me and Mom walking to Bona Fide

Where the goods grow

We reserved our last night in Ompetepe for a quiet evening with a nice meal and a bit of research for our future travels. By mid-afternoon a group of boisterous young women strode through the lobby and I knew our evening was going to be anything but quiet. Within ten minutes, Pina Coladas and Coronas were being passed around as we learned the troupe of girls were all from Crested Butte Colorado and were all ski bums masquerading as bartenders, hair stylists, and outdoor instructors. Nearly five hours later (and a few drinks in) we decided to call it a night after hearing one hilarious story after another and agreeing to visit all the girls in Colorado.

The Colorado Girls (L-R) Kathy, Jilly, Me, Sarah, Callie, Mare, Mom, Titty, and Kalyn!

We woke by 5am the next morning to make our way down the 250 miles to Santa Elena. Our guesstimate was the trip via “chicken buses”, taxi's and a ferry would take about 7 hours...apparently that number nearly doubles when you accidentally take the wrong road; or what I lovingly refer to as the “scenic route”! After making it to within 20 miles of our final destination, we realized our bus was taking us literally to the middle of nowhere and ended its route in a tiny cattle ranching village about halfway up a mountain range. Somehow while on the bus we managed to luck into a conversation with a local man and were told he would hook us up with an amigo for a ride the rest of the way. As dark settled (only twelve hours into our trip) we stopped at a sorry looking grocery store with some very gregarious locals milling about. When the nice bus man's amigo Wilbur arrived with his flatbed dairy ranch truck (our knight in a rusty pickup truck), we realized we had no idea the address or even the exact name of our hostel! Immediately the locals busted out phones and began making calls until, by another chance of sheer luck, they called the cousin of the man whose hostel we had a reservation for! Thanking Wilbur profusely for his generosity (and our lucky stars for making it alive) we unloaded the truck in front of the hostel and Mom happily shouted “Como estas!” as we waved goodbye. Rough translation: “How are you?”...silly Mommy, but at least she tries!

This morning, well rested from our epic journey, we decided to battle gale-force winds and take a zip-line tour through the Costa Rican jungle. Geared up with nearly 40 other tourists, we ascended one platform after another and zipped our way through the canopy and over massive canyons -one line being half a mile long! Our group as made up of Tulane med-school students on break, a huge group of inner-city kids from Cleveland on a school trip of a lifetime, a few international backpackers, and one adorable biologist from England. Mom was an absolute champ as she zoomed from one line to another, rappelled 50 feet from a tree, and even joined Kalyn and I in “whooooo hoooooo”ing ourselves hoarse on a giant 150 foot long “Tarzan Swing”! The tour was adrenaline pumping and stunningly beautiful, and probably one of the most memorable days I've spent with Mom and Kalyn!

Ready to fly our way across Costa Rica!

Mom going zoom zoom!

Three words: AH.MAZE.ING

Last cable and we are still alive!

Tomorrow we head to San Jose and say goodbye to Mom early Thursday...after that Kalyn and I will be adventuring South making our way to Panama!

-Ash

Fun fact: All the buses in Costa Rica are POSH compared to the gurgling rusting heaps of metal in neighboring countries! 

The One with the Kinda Dead Guy

“Is he dead?” Mom asked.

“Buracho.” our driver responded.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“He's a drunk.” Kalyn answered as we passed a middle aged man sprawled face down, spread eagle, and lifeless on the side of the road...one would think someone would stop for such an incapacitated person laying on a busy road, but apparently the Burrachos are many and, as Kalyn informed us, they always wake up eventually and stumble the rest of the way home. I wondered if we were ever going to eventually make it to our hostel as we bumped over a path that resembled more of a dry creek-bed (giant boulders included) than a road.

I'm getting a bit ahead of myself with the town drunk...to back up a bit:

Ash with the touring bike duo and their RAD RIDE!

After arriving in Nicuragua and hanging out at the Laguna de Apoyl for a night, we woke up to a stunnirunk.” Kalyn answered as we passed a middle aged man sprawled face down, spread eagle, and lifelngly beautiful day. At 8am, with the sun shining down into the massive water-filled crater, we donned swimsuits and took a refreshing morning dip. Post-swim we finalized our agenda for the day and packed everything to head out to Granada, a city made famous by the civil war fights that ravaged the country in the 80's. On our way out we noticed two travelers in biking apparel walking into the lobby. After chatting it up for a few minutes I learned the Xinhan (from China) and Emilien (from France) had been bike touring cross-continent for the past 8-months! The couple began their journey in Canada and traveled through the US, and Mexico, they were making the rounds in Central America. They aren't planning on slowing down anytime soon with plans to make it through South America and Africa before returning home to Europe!

We bid adieu to the pair and took a short ride to the city. I was struck immediately by the intense colors painted on nearly every colonial-style building, the strange fusion of third-world poverty and historical westernization, and the chaos of the roads! We stopped at a street called Penny Lane and had lunch before venturing into the center of town. For an hour or so we walked by one vendor after another, all catering to tourists with goods either painstakingly hand-made or imported from China (go figure). By the afternoon we were zooming in a car on our way to catch a ferry that would take us to Ometepe, the largest freshwater volcanic Island in the world and Kalyn's home for the past five-months. Just like in the movies, we pulled up to the docks just as the ferry engines were turning over and all three of us ran to catch it as the locals yelled “rapido gringa's, rapido!” (hurry white girls, hurry!), we didn't make it but enjoyed the two hour wait for the next ferry by playing uke and chatting with other international travelers.

The trip from the ferry to our hostel was over an hour of grueling bumps and swerves as our driver made his way past the Buracho and to our final destination. The long day of travel and intense heat had exhausted us all, so of course, within ten minutes of getting our rooms, we lock our keys inside the room. And, because this is a third-world country and Ace Hardware doesn't exactly exist here, there is NO SPARE, and NO WAY into the room without literally breaking out a window or breaking down the door. That is, until Kalyn remembered events from her childhood when she would lock herself in the bathroom to get away from my darling older brother, who would outsmart her and use a credit card to jimmy open the door. Lucky for us, Mom had a card on her, and in less than a minute of finagiling (and to the SHOCK of the locals who had obviously never seen this trick), the door popped open! Nothing like teaching some good ol' breaking and entering tricks to naïve locals!

The Three Amigas!

Well rested and ready for adventure, we rented horses to help us make our way to a famous waterfall on the Island. Mom hadn't been in a saddle in over a decade, and it had been several years since Kalyn and I had taken a horseback tiki-tour in Hawaii, but this was no American rodeo! Our guide Anwar seemed intent on setting the record to the waterfall and constantly yipped and hawed our horses into a frantic gallop along the road! Kalyn somehow managed to hang on to her ancient horse (who somehow managed not to die at over twenty-years old, we later found out), Mom was happy as could be back in the saddle, and with no prompting from me my horse RAN LIKE CRAZY the nearly the entire way there AND BACK! The waterfall was beautiful, Mom and Kalyn saw a family of monkeys on the way back down the trail, while Anwar happily pointed out about ten snakes along the way (information I would have been happyto be oblivious to)! The day was incredible, and even better because I was sharing it with Mom and Kalyn!

-Ashley

Little Hector, possibly the CUTEST kid in all of Nicaragua
 (and blue eyes to boot)!

  

The One Where I See My Sis for The First Time in FOR-friggin-EVER!

Leaving from the Chico airport for the first of three flights that would land me in Managua Nicuragua, I found it odd that I was experiencing nearly the opposite emotions from my first trip abroad. Nearly three years ago I shakily waved goodbye to my parents through a glass security wall, tears streaming down my face, choking back sobs of sadness, anxiety, and fear of what lay ahead. Well, fast forward a couple countries and INSANE experiences later, and I found myself leaving the airport jittery with excitement, happy to be seeing my sister, and unbelievably UN-WORRIED about what lay ahead. As I set my heavy pack on my shoulders and marched through security, a huge weight of stress lifted from my body.

Settling down for some shut-eye at a bar...not the first time I've taken a nap at such an establishment!

After an uneventful flight from Chico to San Francisco, I flew an hour late to Houston arriving at very early (or late depending on how you see it) 1AM. Cruising through the nearly empty airport, I soon found a quiet corner of a closed bar and whipped out the camping gear to settle down for the night. Waking up to the bar tender stocking the fridge at 6AM, I sheepishly said good morning (slightly feeling like a bum) and then geared up and headed to my gate. The flight to Managua was a little over three hours. I woke myself up when some drool hit my arm and, wiping my face oh-so-casually, I looked out the window to see the volcano dotted landscape of Nicuragua. I had arrived!

Quickly making my way though immigration (where the immigration officer refused to actually stamp my passport and instead handed me what looked like a fast-food receipt with a stamp on it), I walked through the airport doors, first feeling the 90 degree heat, then seeing my little sister and forgetting every other sense. We hugged it out, me trying to avoid getting poked with Kalyn's new dreads, and Kalyn sporting newly shaved armpits! After a brief catch-up, Kalyn and I walked across the street where we grabbed Mom, negotiated a taxi, and took a thrilling ride to our hostel in Laguna deya Polla.

The Bocast ladies together again!!!

Our hostel The Monkey Hut sits right on the lagoon and has a relaxed atomosphere and beautiful view. We didn't waste anytime before doing Kalyn's laundry and then  down to a play some strange version of Gin Rummy  (which I won despite Kalyn's best efforts to cheat and Mom's math genius). Now we are off to dinner in the dark (no street lights or directions to guide us, guess we are following our noses) and tomorrow its Zip-line tours and discovering the colonial village of Granada (where major Nicaraguan Civil War battles were faught in the 80's).

-Ashley

Fun fact: Nicuragua only has two types of beer: one that tastes like dirty water, and one that tastes like dirty water with a bit of urine in it! Yummm!

Kalyn washing laundry by hand like a pro!