Granada, Nicaragua
5:30 a.m.
Palm trees rustling in the gentle breeze, sparkling blue waves lapping the shore, a jogger lost in thought, the sun rising over Lake Nicaragua. This is what I have been waiting for. It's been a long, wet, cold month in Boston. I've been consumed by prepping and rehearsing for Thursday's presentation to the Board of Trustees, writing six performance appraisals, doing my taxes, and drafting a wedding speech.
There is a lot more work to be done on the speech but the other stuff is done. Now I can relax and enjoy the next 17 days, exploring and biking through the varied terrains of Nicaragua, Costa Rica and Panama. I can't wait.
I arrived yesterday. Other than some traffic getting out of Managua, the trip was easy. It was the first time I've had a driver waiting outside the airport with my name on a cardboard sign. I felt like a big shot.
Miguel, my driver, spoke no English. We exchanged superficial pleasantries for a little while. The next thing I knew, we were in Granada pulling up to the Hotel Patio Del Malinche. I had slept for nearly 90 minutes. That 3 a.m. wake up had taken its toll.
I dropped my bag, threw on some shorts and headed out to explore. What a fun few hours, wandering the neighborhoods and markets, all the while people watching.
Being the beginning of Holy Week, there was a processional of the devoted,
carrying likenesses of Jesus and Mary around the town squad. It was similar to what we experienced in Spain a few years ago.
Around 7 p.m., I found a nice roof top bar where I ordered a panini and a margarita, and listen to a young man singing beautiful Spanish folks songs. I couldn't have been more content.
Around 9, I returned to the hotel, allowed the bartender to coax me into a shot of seven year old Nicaraguan rum before calling it a night.
The rum didn't live up to the Cuban standards of a few months ago. It was still quite good (the bartender said I would have to try the 12 year old rum tomorrow night). It was a nice way to finish the day, one I had been awaiting for so long.
This bike trip was organized by Intrepid Travel. I'm told there are five other riders. I know nothing about them. We meet at 6 p.m. tomorrow night. Until then, I have two days and a night to further explore by myself. Perfect!
As I sit lake side, an older man just walked by. I said "buenos dias". He smiled, looked over at the rising sun, spread his arms wide, and declared; "magnifico". I said; "Si" and pointed to my iPad as if to say that I was writing about it. He took this as an invitation to join me on the small bench. I would have preferred to keep writing in solitude, but I was OK with it. One of my favorite parts of these trips in conversing with folks, locals and fellow travelers alike.
Most people, when they realize I don't speak their language adapt, switching to a syntax of individual works, hoping that I will recognize them, especially when combined with hand signals. Not this guy. He continued in full sentences. I'm pretty sure he asked me what I was doing in Nicaragua, where I was from, where I was staying, how long I would be here... all the standard stuff.
I couldn't tell his age. His dark brown skin was leathered and wrinkled. He had fewer than half his teeth left. His crumpled straw hat and dirt-stained kaki shirt looked like they hadn't been removed in years.
It wasn't long before he asked; "Uno dollar, por favor ". A request for money always changes the dynamic. Instead of friendly banter, the relationship becomes one of tourist and begger. That bummed me out. I simply responded "no", trying to regain our previous footing. His interest disappeared. He sat for a minute or two, now in complete silence. He then got up, shook my hand and meandered away. Too bad.
It's time for me to head back to the Patio Del Malinche for the included coffee, fruit and yogurt.
I have no idea what the rest of the day will bring but I can't wait.
Hasta manana.
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Location:Granada, Nicaragua
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