13: Travel Troubles

Enmanuel hardly slept all night, he was so excited. I heard him bustling around the house with his mother at 5 o'clock in the morning when the roosters were just starting to crow. I turned over and went back to sleep, we had a long journey ahead of us and I wanted to be as rested as possible.

The minibus we had rented arrived a full hour late, by which time we were all starting to worry whether it would show up or not. But then all of our mattresses and bags were tied to the roof and we were ready to go, bumping our way out of town. We were headed to the island of Ometepe in Lake Colxibolca, all the way at the southern end of Nicaragua. Most of my Nicaraguan family of friends had never been to this part of the country. Transportation is expensive, so most families can't afford to travel on family vacations. This trip was a special treat for us all. Freddy made the arrangments for us all to stay with his sister who lived on the island; Irma, Nolvia and my friend Luisa organized the food; Patty and I rented the mini-bus; and we all enjoyed the great enthusiasm of the children.

I realized that something was a bit wrong only a few miles down the road as we began to climb the Estelí mountains. The mini-bus was going so slow! I was tempted to get out and jog along beside it on the road to stretch my legs and get some excersize. Even running uphill, I'm sure I could have kept up. Sure enough, only three hours into what should have been a seven hour trip, steam started rising out of the engine and we came to a stop, right in the middle of the road. No problem, in Nicaragua we are accustomed to being flexible with things like this. Cars and buses often break down, you just have to wait while they are fixed. But what bad luck to be stuck in Sébaco where it is flat and hot and shadeless!

As it was around noon, we all pulled out our beans and rice to eat in the shade of a scraggly jícaro tree and laugh at our predicament. When a lonely icecream man went bicycling by in the hot sun, we stopped him to buy sticky, melting popsicles to lick while we waited. Finally, we realized that we were going to have to push the minibus to get it started. Or maybe we'd have to push it all the way to the mecanic shop! It was funny to see us all lined up behind this huge vehicle, practically running in place as cars and buses zoomed by us.

After a few hours at the mecanic shop we were off and ... crawling down the highway. Although the minibus was running again, we had to make frequent stops to pour water into the engine so that it wouldn't overheat again. Sometimes the motor would accidently turn off in the process and we'd all have to pile out to push it so that it would start again.

Sunset fell as we puttered by the volcano Masaya and it was already dark by the time we reached the colonial city of Granada on the northern bank of Lake Colxibolca. Our plan had been to arrive here in the afternoon to tour this famous town before continuing south to our camping spot. But, now we were in the dark with a falty minibus far from our final destination. What if we broke down in the middle of nowhere at night? That didn't seem like a very safe situation. Staying in hotels is expensive, so we would have to find a place to camp in Granada.

Fortunately all our friends saw our situation as an opportunity for adventure. The only place we could find to camp was in the public park along the lake waterfront. We asked a man sitting on the park bench whether camping was allowed and he assured us that it was, though his answer seemed questionable. We laughed hilariously as we set up camp on the grass away from the streeet lamps and gobbled down our dinner while enjoying the view of the lake. We laughed even harder as we tried to settle down for bed. The teenagers kept making jokes about us showing up on the front page of the newspapers the next day: "Scandle for Pueblo Nuevo: 22 citizens caught camping in the public park with the daughter of the ex-mayor!"

I had just managed to dose of despite the heat and the bugs when I was abruptly awoken by the shrill toot of a police whistle. Policemen had been driving back and forth by the park all evening, but it wasn't until we fell asleep that they decided to tell us that camping wasn't allowed. I crawled deeper into my sleepingbag so as not to be seen; it would just make this worse if the police found out there was a "gringa" among the bunch. It was better to let Freddy figure things out; he can usually talk his way through anything.

Sure enough, after explaining the situation and appealing to their sense of compassion, Freddy finally convinced the policemen to let us stay. However, we had to move to a different locatoin further away frm the lake, with less breeze and more mosquitos. Oh, and we had to be up and out by 5 o'clock in the morning so as not to be seen by the public in the morning.

We were a sleepy, itchy group the next morning as we quickly toured through Granada, found the public restrooms and got back on the road. Still chuckling about the stories we'd have to tell when we got back about our adventures in Granada, we quickly dropped off to sleep as the minibus plodded its way towards Ometepe.