Wanderings & Broken Bottles

25 June 2012
9:00pm - Casa del Agua Hostel, Granada, Nicaragua

We arrived safely and fairly uneventfully at our hostel in the early afternoon and were signed in by Gerry, the manager of the hostel who turned out to be an Irish ex-pat, of all things.  I got the sense he really misses Ireland, but he's been doing this for a few years now.  When he heard we were from Boston, he told Courtney (who is not from Boston) that he didn't even need to look at the name on her passport to know she was Boston Irish.  Then he looked at my passport and exclaimed, "Kathleen O'Neill... give me a break!"

Casa del Agua, Granada.  $10/night, you're jealous. And that set of doors with the balcony?  Just our room, nbd.

We dropped our stuff in our room and set off to change money, explore, and find food.  I struggled with the map a little bit at first and finding the money changer became a bit of a process, but many cat calls later (apparently a thing here that was explained to us as being "compulsory"), we were eventually successful.   We walked down the more touristy street next to the cathedral in search of a place for lunch.  I'm bummed we won't be here long enough for our stomachs to accumulate enough to handle street food...  Regardless, we ended up at a place with insanely refreshing mojitos, good atmosphere, and decently cultural food, which was a success.

tiempo para almuerzo (also, if you see that blue spot after the second column, that's a volcano)

 We wandered further down the touristy street to the Iglesia Guadalupe, which may be one of the oldest churches in Central America.  Since there was a service going on (with some beautiful music), we did not get to see the interior, but we were able to peek in the doors.

Iglesia Guadalupe

                                                           

We then walked down to Lake Nicaragua, where you would not want to go swimming, before wandering back up the main strip to investigate the cathedral and, on the other side of town, Iglesia La Mercede, which boasted the best view in all of Granada.  It wasn't wrong.

at Lake Nicaragua & desperately needing showers

                                           

Back at the hostel for some much needed R&R, Courtney's bladder (of the Camelbak variety) broke, which created some havoc.  I emailed the family to let them know of my continued survival.  Sara & Courtney went swimming in the pool (in the kitchen!) and I hung out on the hammock.  It was a bizarre sort of hammock and very difficult to get comfortable on if you weren't holding yourself in by the straps.  

Our lovely little room           

After our showers (which may have flooded the bathroom a little bit), we went out again for dinner.  At this time in the day, there was an increased presence of beggars, specifically children.   No matter how many times I am told not to give money to the kids who beg on the street because it perpetuates the cycle of their parents pullling them from school and making them beg, it never gets easier and I always feel like a jerk.  The first page of menu at the restaurant where we went the next night actually explained in detail to all tourists why giving the kids money created more harm than good.  It's a temporary situation and reinforces the behavior - the parents see that the kids earn more money in a night than they ever could and therefore pull the kid from school to continue begging.  

While we were relaxing at our outside table after dinner, I was watching an old man at the restaurant next door to us.  He also appeared to be an ex-pat (though I don't know from where) and also possibly a bit senile, based on apparent mood swings and irrational behavior.  For example, he was at one point bopping around to the music playing from the speakers of the restaurant, while sipping his beer and looking happy as a clam.  Over a span of maybe five minutes, I watched his affect change from content to furious - about around the time he got the check, I think.  He threw his money on the ground, prompting the waiter to come over, pick it up, and put it back on the table.  This appeared to make the old man angrier and he said something to the waiter, gestured wildly, then threw the money on the ground again.  The waiter walked away and some of the begging children ran over and gathered up the money.  After sitting for a moment or two with a face like a thundercloud, the man began yelling, then picked up his beer bottle (40oz size) and hurled it away from him.  It appeared to bounce of the back of a gentleman sitting nearby, hit the ground, and smashed.  Obviously the gentleman was offended, but handled the situation fairly well, considering.  I was briefly concerned that the situation would escalate, but, after making a comment about "gringos," the man sat back down and resumed his dinner with his family.  The waiter swept up the broken bottle from under the man's chair and nothing else happened.  The old man wasn't even asked to leave!  I was surprised, but not completely.  I wonder if it had anything to do with the fact that the old man was white, or possibly because he was a regular (he seemed to know the waitstaff).  Or potentially both.

View of a volcano from our room as the sun set

                                        

Tomorrow: volcano & zip lining!