On to the crazy Isla....

Bye bye San Juan: Abby makes her specialty, pancakes, for the morning of our departure. They turn out more like crepes (yummm) and we smother them with sweetened condensed milk while downing several cups of strong, black coffee. Another healthy breakfast to get a day of traveling started, ha.

Movimiento: We're moving around a lot on this trip, something that is strange for both of us. In Mexico we would stay at least a week, and usually two, in each place but in Nicaragua we can only stay in places for a couple days at a time, unfortunately constrained by those all-too-familiar restraints: time and money. Yet, even at this point in the trip I feel certain that I will return to Nicaragua, hopefully sooner than later. Nicaragua is sunshine and warm smiles and fresh air to me- but at the same time I know that this isn't enough. Engels words still echo in my mind frequently, especially because I am really starting to love Nicaragua and I don't want to look back and see that all I did was take and take and let the beauty seep into me without giving anything back or properly expressing my gratitude.

To Ometeptl: So, we hop in the first cab we see heading to Rivas, I had completely forgot that only a few minutes before I had said I wanted to use the internet before we left. But it turned out to be a lucky, albeit absent-minded decision, because after about 15 minutes riding down the terribly bumpy and rocky road out of SJ, our taxi got not one flat tire, but two, and a few minutes later an older Canadian man picked us up in his pick-up and took us directly to the ferry, free of charge and with a half hour to grab some gallo pinto.

The lake is choppy and brown and the ferry plods along, sometimes sickenly slow and heaving and other times just slow slow slow. The breeze is nice though and so is the view of the island, which is gradually becoming greener as we get closer, while the two volcanos that created the Island of Ometepe get bigger and bigger. When we land, a bus is leaving and since we know absolutely nothing about the island, we just get on and watch farms and palm trees and the entirely imposing Volcán Concepción pass by our school bus windows until we end up in the small town of Altagracia. Fine.

Should we stay here? We are indecisive, a vulnerability that the clever young guy at the tourism office exploits, telling us the "only way to see the Island" is to stay in Altagracia. Whatever, we're tired. "And by the way, my dad's hotel is just around the corner and we have a tour guide and food and information, blah blah blah." I think normally I would have been annoyed by this blatant trickery but instead, I shrugged and we threw our bags down. He seems like a nice person anyhow and besides, no more time to waste, bikes and a sweet little beach nearby are waiting!