Nobody puts Baby in a Jar

Did I ever tell you about the guy from my Spanish class in 7th grade? He was from Nicaragua, probably still is, actually. Anyways, when he came to the states he was put into our Spanish class. I'm pretty sure he already knew how to say "Voy al cine" and was way past our level, but whatev. When he would say where he was from, he would say Nic...aragua. Like it was two words. Weird. Still think about it to this day. Here's is a story about our journey into the unknown Nic...aragua.


Thursday:
Do you know how you start a vacation in Central America? You walk down to the highway and wait for your bus and hope it stops for you. That’s exactly what my roommates, Ashley, Julie and I did. The bus did stop. So we got on. And so began our Nicaraguan adventure. As soon as we got on I knew it would be awesome. Somewhere in the first few minutes awesome faded into the smell of throw up and this dude beside me taking up all the room. So far, not so awesome. Then I started to get a little car sick. No sooner had I thought the words “car sick” did they bring out the plato tipico breakfast. If there’s ever something you do NOT want to smell while getting car sick, it’s a whole bus full of people eating plato tipicos. Ew. That’s ok—because we were already laughing our cares away.

Pretty soon we were getting off the bus to cross the border. Apparently they have a big problem with putting people in jars. Some of the posters near immigration had pictures of girls in jars. I guess that’s why it took almost an hour to get across. Julie said they were looking for jars. The whole time we were practicing our Honduras national anthem and trying not to get put into jars.

We hit a little snag getting seats back to Honduras and made some friends at the bus station. By friends I mean idiots we had to tell how to do their job. I was going to look them up on facebook, friend them, then just turn around and unfriend them. But we got some seats, together nonetheless. Was that so hard, Transnica? See ya on Sunday beeches! *(You'll want to remember this part for later.)

From Managua we went to Leon. We got a cab and finally made it. While in Leon we had a restaurant event. It was like these 3 girls had never seen food before. Beer? Yes! Appetizers? Two please! Entrée? Totally. Banana split? I thought you’d never ask!

Friday:
Do you know how you can tell you’re in Leon, Nicaragua? They have bombs and air raid horns going off in the wee morning hours. Not real bombs, ya’ll. Just fireworks or blanks from the guards. And the air raid horn? We can only assume it’s to signify the start of the cat fight that happened abruptly after that each morning. So, no need to set an alarm here. It’s included in your hostal.

We got up, had breakfast and tried to book our volcano sand boarding adventure. After a whole conversation in Spanish, Julie’s like, “So, we have to ride motorcycles to the volcano?” And I’m like, “WHAT! I didn’t get that part.” PS—Still learning Spanish. So, now not only do I need to freak out about the sand boarding, I need to freak out about the riding the motorcycles for 45 minutes to the volcano. Score. What’s a little motorcycle riding in Nica? We book it.

So we try to get out of town to the beach. In true Central American fashion it is somewhat of organized chaos trying to get money, go to the bank, etc. Finally we make it and hail a cab to the beach.

Las Penitas (or something like that) was awesome. It was sunny, warm and beachy. We thoroughly enjoyed our time there. On the way home we caught a chicken bus. It was awesome. It turns out all that money they charge you at the border goes to the stereos on the chicken buses, because they rock. I mean the volume of bachata and reggaeton that came out of these speakers!? To die for. Plus the bus wasn’t packed and we survived. Score again. In case you’re ever in Central America and need to pass, let me tell you what to do. You barrel down on the upcoming car, lay on the horn and wait. Then when you get to a blind curve, you go for it. Turns out that’s the protocol.

Saturday:
Do you know what would be a cool thing to do? Pretend like you’re going to die! Saturday we went volcano hiking and sledding. And I use the term sledding loosely. I was thinking the night before about how I was going to tell the girls I wanted to back out. I mean, maybe I’m too old for all of this adventure stuff. What if something goes wrong? We know they don’t really have the best medical care in Nicaragua. Plus we don’t have insurance. Plus we don’t speak Spanish fluently. You can see where I’m going with this. When we woke up, I spoke about my fears and the girls talked me down from the ledge and I decided to just stop whining and do it. We had a great breakfast and were ready for the adventure. There is some good news—we don’t have to ride on the back of motorcycles to get there. Two more people joined the group. Yay! Now I can just freak out about the actual adventure part.

So we go and get in the van with our new friend Boney (at least that ‘s what we call him) and our driver Manny. Boney keeps assuring me everything’s going to be fine. “No te preocupes!” he says. Oh Boney, if only you had heard of foreshadowing. So we start hiking. And it’s a rough hike for me. I stop. I admire the beauty. I want cry at the beauty and the lack of oxygen. We keep going. Finally we make it to the top. We take in the scenery, plus a swarm of bees. This place is full of danger.

So it’s time to suit up. We have to wear elbow and knee pads, a big convict suit and goggles. Somehow I think this is a little ridiculous, but I go with it. We get all our gear on and take some photos. We look like the rejects from the lollipop guild. Profile pic! Then it’s go time. Ashley has to go first. Otherwise she said she wouldn’t go. After her 30 second sledding lesson, she was off. We heard the screams. She was really gaining some speed there, wait!! Did she fall? Yeah…looks like she’s walking. Bummer. I hope that doesn’t happen to me.

So, I get on my sled. He says some stuff in Spanish and tells me good luck. I go. Ok, this isn’t so bad. That was the first 10 seconds. So I’m screaming and rocks are totally just flying in my mouth. It never occurred to me to shut my mouth. Then I’m gaining speed and even more rocks are flying at me. They are hitting my glasses and I’m afraid they might chip my teeth. At this point I’m thinking, “Wow! Someone could really get hurt doing this! Wait, there’s Ashley! It’s the end already? No, she’s just sitting there. Ashley!! Get out of the way!! I’m going to hit you….wooooo, ay ay ay, what’s happening? Feet down…check! Why am I spinning. Whoa! Rough patch. That’s it…I’ve fallen off. Pretty sure I fell off. Now I’m tumbling. Damnit! This is exactly what I was afraid oooooffffff! Ouch, board to the head. I hope I stop rolling down the mountain soon. Ok, I’m slowing down. Where’s my boa…oh, there it is at the bottom. With Ashley’s board. Where’s my backpack. Are my sunglasses broken? My head hurts.”

I look up the mountain and Ashley’s hair is a mess and we’re both kind of like, wtf just happened. Turns out she had the same experience, except she lost her hair tie. So we scoot down the rest of the mountain until we find out it’s easier to walk. We both get to the bottom and are in hysterics. It was a total shit show up there. We had rocks in our ears, noses and eyes. I had a volcano rock mustache, ya’ll. Ridiculous. The driver Manny, rushed to the scene. I think he was glad we were laughing and not crying. I can only imagine what it looked like.

Then it’s Julie’s turn. She tried out the snowboard, really didn’t work. So she did the sled too. Now, if you want to know how to do it right, watch Julie. It’s like she rode down on a cloud. No rock mustache. You go, chica!!

All in all it was fun and I’m glad we went. And I laugh every single time I think about it. I only have a bump on my head, scratched up arm, bruised shin and hip to show for it. Looking at pictures of other people, turns out we got off pretty easy. Could have been worse!

Sunday:
Do you know what does not rock? Standing on a bus for 2 hours. Especially when you paid a pretty penny to get A SEAT!!!

It was time to go home. But no, we weren't getting off that easy. First we have to go to the bus station to get from Leon to Managua. I think the words "bus station" are a bit of a stretch. It was awesome. Shit show-ish even. So our bus finally comes and everyone that had somewhat formed a line just starts pushing. There are kids and old people in the mix. Crazy! Every man for himself. So we get on and Ashley and I really enjoy our driver, but did not agree with some of his driving choices. He even hooked us up with a ride to the bus station. Thanks, dude!

At the bus station, we see our old friend. And by old friend I mean that dude that we fought with on Thursday about getting seats back to Honduras. I can tell he recognizes me by the scowl and avoidance of eye contact. There was a little drama with our seats and they sold them. I know right, the nerve! See the *organized chaos* as previously stated. So our solution to get home (because none of us have sub plans!) is to ride for 2 hours standing until some people get off. So we do, and they do. Not before Julie and I both get car sick. Again. Yay! Something like that really helps you appreciate sitting. Now I sit whenever I get the chance. I’m actually SITTING in a SEAT while typing this. Ahhhh. This is the life.

So we get to the border and are happy because we’ve made it this far without getting put into jars. We’re also so ready to be home and eat something. They didn’t even give us any plato tipicos this round. Probably because they had all these passengers standing, blocking the aisles.

It was a great trip with lots of adventure, laughs and only a few scrapes and bruises. Vale la pena.