MonkeyPunks

So the other day, I was approached by a guide, which usually happens a few times a day, but this guide said the word monkey in his broken english sentence.. I immediately coerced him into showing me on a detailed map where I can find these unattainable creatures..

Spanish school was out on the weekend so I hit the market early, got a big sack of bananas and a slice of watermelon for the road. This crazy Semana Santa/Easter Week has brought everyone in the country down to the Lago De Nicaragua..

I stopped off to investigate a colony of yellowtailedblackbirds (ficticious name) they were quite intriguing.

I continued on for another mile or so and there it was, movement in the tops of some trees on a small island, I could see a dang monkey walking around.. Finally after numerous hours of searching, I have discovered the Isletta Con Mono.. Hallelujah!!

I approached the island cautiously, knowing that monkeys shouldn’t be trusted. A few of the big boys came right down the water to check me out, I started handing out bananas like a red cross volunteer and the next thing you know I had the whole damn tribe of monkeys hanging out with me. I tried having a conversation with them but they only spoke Spanish it was really annoying.

My favorite monkey there would grab my hand and try to pull me onto the island, I was pleasantly surprised by this random act of kindness so I obliged and docked up the kayak and went for a little stroll around their crib.

These monkeys started acting a little differently when I was on their turf.. One of them actually turned out to be a bastard monkey, wait they all turned out to be little bastard monkeys. I turned my back on the bag on bananas and one big monkey started handing them out on his own and taking all the credit.

Meanwhile I had to constantly defend myself from the little white face monkey punk who would rip handfuls of hair out of my head. They were coming for me from all directions, those little hands they have on their feet were freakin me out.. On more than one occasion I ran for my life and shoved off in the kayak to get away from them, but then the nice one would coax me back with a trusting handshake and I would fall right back into their trap.

When I finally left the island for good, I had mixed feelings about the monkeys there. I don’t know if I like them, and I defiantly don’t know if I can trust them. I am kind of glad they are trapped on that island.

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Sorry I tried to embed this video hundreds of times… and it just wouldn’t take. So you have to click it

Alternate means of Transpo

When you need to take a break from the monotony of 4 days of hard core Spanish word absorption, there are a couple options available to loosen a fella up. First there is the Gran Sultana train. This rig may have been customized to appear to be an actual train.., but they weren’t foolin me. I took a look under the hood and discovered that it was actually a tractor pulling two trailers behind.. I was a little put off that this outfit was trying to pull the wool over my eyes so I checked out the competition.

   

  

The party bus is an old school bus converted into a 35 ton road worthy stereo system. The audio equipment on this rig is so loud it actually requires an independent power source.. The 5000 watt generator was putting all 5000 watts into bass and treble. This bus actually has a reputation around town, you can hear all the hit songs almost anywhere in the city when this party machine is running.

  

 

 

It was a tough call between the two, I knew they both took the same route down to the lakefront and back to the central park. I rolled the dice and jumped on the Sultana Train and was not disappointed. I was one grinning gringo on this hayride through town.

One of the most economical means of transpo down here had got to be the motorbike. It gets through traffic well, great mileage and you can park almost anywhere. There are a couple brand names around here that I haven’t really seen before.

  

For example the Genesis, This is no doubt the first brand of motorbike to debut in centroamerica.. If they have been here the longest.. as a rule of thumb they are probably the best.

Another type of bike which is in a class all of its own is the Hero Panther.. It is made with real bits of panther so your know its good!.

Tip-Top, a fine dining fried chicken restaurant brings the deep fried goodness to your home on a classic Yamaha.

Everyone knows down here that Japan makes some pretty nice machinery. Sometimes wise Latin American businesses will try to exploit this by selling bikes with very Japanese sounding names.  This Jailing has a couple Asian hieroglyphics to fool a consumer into thinking it’s Japanese. To bad this elusive craft is made locally.

Others just go out on a limb and hope they can gossip their brand name into sounding Japanese, Such as the Dayun. They are close but it’s actually Chinese.

Some business will go a little further by just coming right out and printing on their bike Japan Technology. If this phrase isn’t convincing enough, the backup slogan is “tough”

  

Uh XingFu I believe is CentroAmerican Karate. This motor bike has a good energy or Chi to it, it exudes a very asian aura.. I could feel it just by standing near the bike.

I’m not sure if the marketing genious who dreamed up the name of this bike is actually familiar with Kayaks…. But I have one… and it looks totally different that this thing.

 Wait, what brand is your motorbike again?? Beamer?? Sweet those things are supposed to be pretty expensive.. You must really have some chips stacked up huh?

Drumline

Sometimes you will just be walking down the street, which is like a labyrinth with 16 foot fortress like walls on either side. Every sound echoing at incredible distances. You will come to a corner and be bombarded by an amazing drumline. A bass and snare drum rip an machine gun beat and you can see some commotion down the way.

As you get closer to the action you see a 3 man drum crew with a 12 foot tall dancing lady wearing a crown. And her little cohort with a giant head. They dance around in circles while the drum beat shakes your insides, pausing from time to time to yell out phrases that mean something to some people, then finally coming to a stop and collecting dividends for their creative endeavors..

It is all kind of a fascinating event.. I probably have the pleasure of witnessing this act 2 times a day, I still can’t help but stop and watch the show.  

 

Parade!

So I have been trying to cram my brain with Spanish phrases and words lately.. I feel like I am  coming along pretty well. I like to relax in the central park on a bench in the shade and go over the flash cards. There are quite a few characters that like to stop by and beg me for money, which I usually ignore and keep repeating my random flash card phrases.

 

Somehow, this drunk dude on a bike stopped by for a chat, he believed in his heart that we were having a legitimate conversation.. It went a little like this: (english version)

 

Craig…Repeat please

DD……Repeat what

Craig………I’m thirsty

DD…….Im thirsty

Craig….What is your country?

DD….I’m from Nicarauga

Craig….What is your city?

DD….Grenada 

Craig….For Example

DD…. What?

Craig ….Strong

DD……ok  

Craig…What a pity 

DD…. What are you talking about

Craig….Repeat please

DD…..What

Craig……Im thirsty

DD….. Im thirsty  

Craig….what is your country

DD…… Again? I said nicarauga

Craig……What is your city?

DD…..Wait, I told you

Craig….For example

DD…. Huh, you are crazy?

Craig….. What a pity 

DD… Huh??

 

This went on for about 15 minutes.. they were the cards that I just couldn’t get to stick, so I had to keep going over and over them. This dude seriously conversed with my jibberish the entire time. I started laughing hysterically I almost couldn’t control myself, until a freekin parade came bantering down the street.

  

I have seen this act before on some of the side streets, maybe it was just a practice session or something but this was the full on act, they had a statue of Jesus carring the cross on an arc that a bunch of people were carrying followed by who I presume to be The Virgin Mary on another arc. The procession would kind of move with the music on a 4 steps forward 2 steps back type of dance, it was very unpredictable. There where a lot of torch bearing members in full hoods with masks keeping the crowd from getting run over.

   

Then there is a generator mixed in with the band, (this whole parade was running on single 110 volt circut). Followed by A tractor pulling Adam and Eve with the garden of eden, Moses, some wise men. I think Cleopatra is in there with a buch of Persians.. I can’t be sure.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am a big believer in parades religious or secular. Just to see one coming around the corner and catch you totally off guard is a thrill a minute.It is such a kinetic form of artwork, I don’t know why but it gets my heart pumpin.

San Juan del Sur and the Crater Lake

I took a little trip down the coast to see the amazing horshoe bay at San Juan Del Sur. It is quite the place. I had the wonderful luxury of traveling behind this truck with a little bit of emissions situation. I believe that a coal burning power plant in the US has less emissions than this single vehicle. All those “inconvenient truth disciples” should start a campaign to fit all CentroAmerican cars with catalytic converters…

On the road to San Juan there is this neat little crater lake called the Laguna de Apoyo. This crater has crystal clear water and quite a bit of action on the only 2 acres of public land allocated to the entire lake. I had to put SubaRooo in 4×4 to park on a steep embankment, I made a little commotion when I untied the kayak and it shot off the roof rack like a missile into the middle of the road. I played it off like I meant for that to happen and carried the Kayak on my head through the shoulder to shoulder crowd to the beachfront. Upon entering the water and cautiously navigating through 50 yards of swimmers so thick you would have thought a cruise ship just sank there, I found an open patch of water and headed far far away from the crowds.

 

  

I found a spot on the lake very secluded and peacefull and snorkeled around a bit to check out the marine life, lots of giant boulders and tiny fish occupied this lake. The bank was so steep it dropped off to 50 feet deep within the first 10 yard stretch of water.

  

When I returned to Granada that evening I noticed that I had let myself slide a little, I was a long haired unshaven piece of gringo trash, so I decided to shorten the hair another couple inches. Clare was right when she said I wouldn’t be able to handle long shaggy hair in the heat. It looks like you are really working the soul glow jerry curl when you’re walking around town. Which is not so hot right now.

I stepped into a classic barber shop where a very disarming man throws down his newspaper and motions for me to occupy the chair he has just stood up from. He starts feeling my hair and face for a bit without saying much, then throws the chair back and takes a damn knife to my throat. I’m so nervous my toes are sweating and I can’t figure out if this guy wants money, information, or he thinks I killed his dog.. Who knows!!, after a bit more massaging of my face and a couple applications of products that didn’t smell or feel totally FDA approved I realized that I was getting the full on straight razor shave.. without even asking for it. I wasn’t about to argue with the guy he was holding a knife to my jugular and I didn’t want to offend him.

  

I decided to relax and go with it. The barber calmed me down with a sweet humming of an accordion tune I recognized from around town. Maybe a half hour later, I was shaven, cut and dapper as lad ready to walk down the isle.

It was Setenta Cordobas ($4 us) for the full man-spa treatment which was no problem at all I threw the good barber a century and started high stepping down the stairway out to the street to stop traffic with my new look.

All in all a good day in Nicaragua. Tomorrow I have to start spanish school for 3 hours a day! I don’t know why I force myself into these situations.

La Boquita and the Monkey Hunt

 

Granada was getting a little busy after a couple days. I was thinking of going off to the beach for a bit of fishing. I also wanted to get a little distance between me and the French hotel I was staying at. I noticed that DVD’s were available to watch on your computer at no charge, so after browsing the selection I thought there was something very openly gay going on here. Just then I looked at the magazines on the coffee table and they were all titled Men and Foreign men. Suddenly everywhere I looked I saw paintings of the male form and offers for private massage.. What is going on here?!!.. Blinded by kindness I had no idea I was voluntarily staying in a bath house!!!

 

I hit the road for a quick 1 hour trip to the coast and pulled into La Boquita, the quant fishing town with what appears to have at some point a thriving tourism season. The season as of now seemed to be the middle of winter there was absolutely no one around. The resterauntairs and hoteliers actually came running out to the car and all wanted to take me on private tours of their properties..

  

  

I pitted them all against each other and stayed at an awesome empty hotel with a magnificent view for $9 us, One of the owners of the cabaña beach restaurant chased me down with a plate of fresh fish. They were seriously fresh, probably swimming less than 3 hours ago.. I signed up and had an amazing whole fried fish meal for $4 and a couple rounds of Tonas to sweeten the deal.

   

The boat launch at Boquita is crazy, these guys drive the panga boats on plane up on the sand, maybe doing 20 knots, seeing them get off the beach in the surf is pretty sweet. I tried to explain how I wanted to go fishing with them and they kept bringing me fish to buy. My survival Spanish couldn’t hack through the idea that all gringos want is to buy stuff.

     

 

Back in Grenada safely staying at a very hetero-hostel I talked to some fellas about mokeys. They started jumping around like monkeys to tell me about the Islita des monos.. Evidently there are 3 islands in the archipelago out on the lake with monkeys on them. Taking my crude map into the field I tried to find the elusive Islas Con Monos. 

 

I hit the market and bought 2 dozen bananas for less than one dolla, and shoved off in the CobraKayak. Every boat I passed I would ask Donde esta la isletas con monos? They would point in a direction and chatter some gibberish I would throw them a couple bananas and head off. By the end of the day I had consumed and gifted almost my entire load of bananas.

     

 

I paddled around virtually every coast of every island along the peninsula and found no monkeys, I tried baiting them with bananas, I tried sneaking around on the islands looking for monkey sign. It just wasn’t meant to be.

    

 

Two days in Granada

Just for the record Managua and Granada are totally different cities. Managua has a lot of sweet monuments, but tragically lost its city center due to a major earthquake that rocked this place a while back. Granada capitalized on the devastation of Managua and took over as the gringo tourism center of Nicarauga.

 

These little colonial towns are sweet, and since they are so sweet all the gringos flock here. Every nice building is converted into a hostel/bar/resteraunt/cyber-café/world-traveler mixer. it’s an interesting scene.

 

I like to choose my housing by simple random luck sometimes. So when I pulled into Grenada’s city center I parked and took to the city on foot. I came across this wall that said hotel above the door. All the doors and gates were closed but I decided to knock just to see what would happen. Jans answers the door and starts chopin it up in english.. I am a little excited and surprised and we check the place out. I sign up for 2 days at $24/day..

It turns out this little hotel is the mecca for frenchies.. Jans is a Belgian and all the guests spoke french and Spanish and a little english.. if you are super cool like Jans you can speak all three languages no problem. I discovered that I can converse in French better than I can in Spanish.. It’s a little sad, but 2 years of French in high school leaves some data in the hardrive.

I met a few folks here in Grenada that are pretty cool, Silvo an ex-pat mex-american. Loves to hang out with gringos and speak english.. we met up with dave the silly ex-pat from washington and went down to the lago de nicarauga to paddle in the kayak. Later we met up with Michael who was on a visa run from Costa Rica. (The visa run is a 72 vacation on the other side of the Costa Rican border in order to renew another 6 month visa).

 

  

There is nothing like taking the emotional journey of dealing with having giant things stolen off the top of the car. I returned to the hotel at 10:00pm to find the roof of the car empty, no kayak!!!.. how the F did someone get that giant kayak off the car without anyone else noticing?? I was in a spastic gringo panic attack, I woke up the homeless person sleeping next to the car for some info, he didn’t see anything. I tried to ask the vatos across the street if they had seen, but they had no clue what I was talking about. While sulking with defeat and shame I entered the hotel to find the kayak stretched across the entry way.

It was kind of nice going through the turmoil over a severe loss like that, then quickly reincarnating your cherished possessions. It is truly an emotional roller coaster ride.

   

   

Since I have entered the small towns of Centro America, I haven’t really been to a legitimate store. There is no grocery store, or supermarket. If you need something you have to locate that specific person selling that specific thing in the casino like maze of the market. I spent the better part of the day buying a new length of chain and a padlock to keep the kayak securely fastened to the top of the subarojo.

 

At one point I was milling around Avenida Gringo which is what Silvo calls the street running south of the central park that seems to contain a 98% gringo population. I saw some bikes for rent one was equipped with full suspension. I started bargaining with the guy using my Survivial Spanish vocabulary.. for 40 cordobas I get 2 houras on this sweet freestyle machine. The bike tour put me on some of the finest historical sites.

When you advance your city biking skills you can actually take a passenger on the bike with you, in some circumstances you can take your wife and infant child on the bike similar to a ride in the family car. When I saw the family on the bike, I froze up and couldn’t get my camera out fast enough. Pictures of double riders are easy to capture as it is a frequent event.

Back on the trail

 

After an intense excursion by sea and my mood poisoned by thoughts of my phone never waking up again, I decided to skip town. Or skip country more appropriately. I headed over to Honduras for a bit.

 

The border crossing was a little easier than the Guatemalan disaster. At first there was a little confusion when the aduana official said the subarojo was too old to come into his country. The phrase that really gets through the red tape lately is “querio ver su jefe” (I want to see your boss). I had to take a guide and go 40kms into the next city to get vehicle paperwork. It was pretty easy, cost $40us and only took about 3 hours and I was on the move heading to the pacific.

 

The country of Honduras was up one big hill for half the day and down the other side for the other half of the day with the giant city of Tegucigalpa right in the middle.

 

 

By nightfall I had made it to Choluteca prepared for another border crossing into Nicaragua first thing in the morning.

 

Crossing into Nicaragua was a little easier than Honduras. I had a feeling I was approaching the border when a guy stood in the middle of the road and pointed me into a parking spot like the policia and then a group of maybe 8 moneychangers/guides/car washers/car watchers sprinted in an all out foot race and surrounded the car.

  

The road to Managua had a bunch of vatos on the side of the road holding up lizards, I thought that some of the indigs (indigeonous people) like to eat the lizards as food, I stopped at one of the kids and found the lizards were actually for pets, they also had some sweet parrots with their feet tied to the stick. I really wanted to impulse buy one of the parrots but I chickened out.

 

 

 

One day in Managua shopping for a new camera, unfortunately no where in Central America sells any iphones.

 

I took some time to take a monumental tour in the historical district of Managua

   

           

The Storm

3 Cans of tuna

½ Loaf soaked wheat bread

½ Gallon fresh water

1 Gallon tap water (emergencies only)

1 Bottle unmarked rum

1 Bag of rice

1 Metal Pan

5 Limes to fight off Scurvy

  Punta Gorda was a little rainy this morning, there was a brisk 20 kts east wind and the waves were rockin. I shoved off early after a fine luxury hotel stay and a 3 star breakfast of omlette, mystery meat and perfectly brewed coffee.

Paddling in this tumultuous sea was fun for a bit taking the breaking waves, but for traveling I wasn’t making very good time at all. I turned back to head inside the cape that extends from Puerto Barrios.

The sunburn on the back is still burning in full effect, the fishing rods kept banging me causing a cringe and sometimes a flinch that results in me falling overboard. This kayak is big but sometimes it just leans way over like riding a bull, you get dumped out and the kayak stays upright.. Its quite strange.

I struggle to head south, in the rain, wind, stormy seas I stop a few times on the bank to dry out and get all the water out of the boat. Then one of the watertight hatches that is supposed to keep all the valuable electronics dry, fails. I have a wet phone and camera, even worse it’s seawater. The salt in ocean water will kill electronics faster than lightning.

A couple dead soldiers that didn’t quite survive the long ride back to Puerto Barrios.

I am a little broken up about my phone dying for the cause. It was hands down my most cherished possession, I loved it like a small electronic child. Now that it is gone, I don’t know if or how I could continue on this journey. I really just want to go home. This chapter is dedicated to the greatest piece of handheld technology I have ever encountered

Into the Wild Part 2

 

 

Rations

 

5 cans of tuna

 

1 pack of mayonesa

 

¾ loaf of wheat bread

 

1.5 gallons of water

 

1 bottle of unmarked rum

 

1 bag or rice

 

1 metal pan

 

5 limes to fight of scurvy

  

I have never had a more aggressive sunburn in my life, I feel as if I fended off a flame thrower attack with the back of my body. I have a feeling this burn will be with me for about a week. I am no longer able to wear a backpack, if one of the fishing rods touches my back I scream in pain and jump overboard.

 

 

Um I have been paddling this kayak like a madman and I haven’t seen an atoll anywhere, in fact I haven’t seemed to have left civilization at all, there are boats and houses all over the place. It is a little discouraging that all this paddling has put me in the same environment I left back at Puerto Barrios.

 

I have been trolling for 2 entire days and havn’t had a strike, I saw a barracuda on the surface and what looked like a tiny dorado but I never saw them again when I jumped in the water.

 

As I paddle by Punta Gorda a giant settlement on the coast complete with a giant resort right on the point, I cant help but pull onto their great grassy lawn and dry out some supplies, while kicking back down there preparing to re-enter the wild one of the resort employees explained that I needed to be a guest at the resort before I could spread all my stuff out on their lawn..

 

 

 “OK you twisted my arm, sign me up for a room”  You would think a place like this would be quite expensive, but I worked them down to $45 on the credit card including free breakfast.

I relaxed in the beautiful resort and got clean and dry. I spent a little time hammock swinging, the pressure on the back is hard to deal with, but hammock swinging is worth it.