We checked in, I emptied my entire bag into a laundry sack (things were getting a little grim on that front) and headed back to reception. There at the door, finger pointed right at me, was our taxi driver and a cop straight out of a 70's show, tache proudly tickling his nose. A quick check with the receptionist confirmed that we had in fact ripped off the taxi driver and now he was back, bullied kid with headmaster style, to collect his dues. Not wanting a night in a cell I threw him the extra cash, mumbled an apology in pigeon Spanish, and retreated to the safety of the dorm.
That was pretty much the highlight of leon, we wandered around a bit, checked out the huge cathedral, ate fried chicken and slept.
Next day we were off to Laguna Opoyo, a volcanic crater lake near Granada. This place was paradise with the dorm in an old boat shed looking out on the thermally warmed laguna. After a day and a half of kayaking, tubing and swimming we figured every day here would be identical to the last so moved on.
Granada was next, yet another colonial town where I said goodbye to Mark from Canada and Charlotte from Minnesota.
It was here I first saw the Virgin Mary.
There she was on a float surrounded by palm leaves and cherubic angels spouting water followed by a generator and a band. They sure love the virgin in these parts as I was to find out in San Juan del sur where she was paraded around incessantly with an entourage of big band playing, firework shooting devotees.
The preferred way of honouring the virgin appeared to be to make as loud an explosion as possible. Some of these bombs shook windows and reverberated around the town and they kept going all night. Not quite the relaxed beach atmosphere I'd expected.
A few days of lazing on the beach and a bit too much time online made me sick of the place so I hopped on a chicken bus to la frontera. Dodging ox and carts, chickens roosting in trees and roadside stalls we hoofed it to the border which we were warned was super hectic.
In fact it was a great border. That may have been because I hadn't had much sleep or appetite in the previous few days and was also slightly hungover which fostered a mild delirium where everything was amusing. After a bit of banter with the cambiomen I paid my dollar to get through the small gate which signifies the end of Nicaragua.
After persuading the emigration man to stamp my passport I walked the 10mins to costa rica, found the immigration office tucked behiind the restaurant and got my bus ticket to the capital, San juan.
San juan is a bustling place that looks like it was built in the 50's using the post war brutalist school of thought so popular in the bombed cities if the south of England. Avoiding the over pushy taxi men I decided to risk a walk through town to get to my hostel. It was just like any depressed high street, full of tacky shops, interesting people and litter.
After 20mins I checked into the aptly named hostel tranquilo, parted with my $8, had a freezing shower, hit burger king and went to bed. Up at 6am on account of the early night I set out to discover the historic heart of San jose. Not finding one I headed back to the hostel for the free DIY pancake breakfast. After frying up what was more like a loaf of bread than a pancake and laughing with the other hostellers over their equally inept efforts it was time to walk to the bus station and get the bus to Puerto Viejo on the Caribbean coast near the panama border. So I'm on the bus, iTouch in hand, listening to Damien Rice, admiring the hilly jungle-esque interior of costa rica and hoping it's not raining on the coast.
No comments:
Post a Comment