Hasta Que Salga el Sol

("Hasta Que Salga el Sol" means "until the sun rises" and is also the title of a song I'm currently obsessed with.  Go forth, download, and dance.  You'll thank me.)


27 June 2012
roughly 8pm - Hotel Estrella, San Juan del Sur

Upon our arrival to San Juan, the chicken bus dumped us gringas (and one gringo backpacker) off in the the middle of the street and drove away in a cloud of dust.  I successfully asked for (and understood!) directions to the Barrio Cafe, where we were supposed to catch the shuttle to the Naked Tiger, the hostel we had booked for our stay in San Juan.  The shuttle, which ran every 2 hours, was at the Cafe when we arrived, but so full that there was hardly a hope of all three of us, plus our belongings, fitting on board.  We waved off the advancements of the taxi drivers promising to take us to the Naked Tiger ("for good price!"), deciding to have a leisurely lunch at the Cafe and catch the 2:10p shuttle instead.

Hotel Estrella.  I just realized I can see my relflection in one of the windows

While we were waiting for the shuttle (which took forever), we observed individuals in varying stages of hangover begin straggling into the queue.   That, coupled with what we'd heard about the Naked Tiger being a party hostel, plus its distance from the beach, made us rethink our game plan a little bit.  We rethought it a lot actually, since when the shuttle finally arrived, we chose to stay behind.  Instead, we wandered around a bit until we came across Hotel Estrella, which is apparently the oldest hotel in San Juan.  It is in varying stages of disrepair, but I like it.  It's also right across the street from the beach.  So close, in fact, that as I write this, I'm listening to the endless ebb and flow of the occean.

Oh, hi there, beach.

This hotel is a little dilapidated, but it has charm and is only $8/night for a three person room.  You can't hate on that, even if the bathroom happens to be downstairs and reminds me a little of some of the bathrooms we encountered in India (however, considering I've seen far worse bathrooms in America, this really isn't an issue). The floors are possibly original - stripped down, warped, gray planks - and the stairs are narrow and appear to have been worn down by decades of visitors climbing up and down.   

The second floor.  That sink is where we washed our faces, etc.

Note the depressions on the steps.  So much more noticeable in person.

Not my loofah.

Toilet/Shower hallway

The only actual problem thus far appears to be the fact that we're without a fan.  This may prove problematic as I'm currently wearing as little as possible without risking indecency and am still overheating.  It's like being in India during one of the power outages:  the air is still, thick, heavy, and oppressive.  The only difference is that we have power.

On an unrelated note, my shoulders are rather sore from ziplining yesterday.

Once we got settled at Hotel Estrella, we put on our bathing suits and headed straight across the street to the beach.  The sand on the harbor beach is really more like packed dirt and less like the sand we're accustomed to.  The water was warm and a little bit gritty, thanks to all the sand it stirred up,  After I submerged myself, my face had a fine layer of grit on it for the rest of the day.  We eventually retreated back from the water to some beach chairs that were set up in front of one of the restaurants to have a few beers and watch the sun set.  We're very romantic.

Beach restaurants with beach chairs need to become a thing here.

There was a little girl of about 3 years old running around near us as we sat there.  She ran back and forth from the ocean to where she was playing in (and occasionally licking) the sand/dirt.  She also befriended a random man and his son (who appeared to be about the same age as her).  She was completely unfazed by where her parents were in location to her, by the energetic game of soccer being played by roughly 25 teenage boys on the beach near her, or by the fact that strangers were around her.  I was in awe of the amount of freedom her parents were giving her and am still torn by whether or not I think that's a good thing.

I really like how this picture came out

While we were on the beach earlier, Sara and I were talking about how much this place reminds us of India.  I hypothesized that this is because I, at least, think I'm somewhat subconsciously looking for an experience that recreates what we had there, but which I'm obviously not going to find on a one week trip to Nicaragua.  India was an authentic experience because we had time and connections, two incredibly integral pieces to successfully encountering and assimilating to a culture.  We were able to immerse ourselves in a dramatically different culture because we had those things.  Right now, we have only a week and no connections.  It's much harder to have a truly authentic experience when you don't have the time to learn the area you're in and become familiar with the subtle nuances that tourists tend to miss as they pass through.  If I want to enjoy this trip, I need to accept that right now, I am a tourist.  It would, however, be really nice to at least experience true Nica food however, rather than the imitation (or worse, American/Italian food), which I've been trying to avoid.