TWO THINGS - One, I will apologize for not posting pictures on this entry. The internet in El Salvador was very expensive ($1.00 for 30 minutes) and the internet here in Nicaragua is too slow and uploading pics would be hell so eventually, you'll see everything I will write about here in photos. Second, let me say that I shot myself in the foot by not writing for three days. I had to write everything down on a pad of paper because the travelling was hectic and I had not ime to sit and get online. That being said, let me catch you up where we left off. The day before I left Antigua, I spent all afternoon playing with homeless kids on the street. We did handstands against the walls and I took loads of pictures. I bought them all food and I can't wait till you see the smiles on these kids faces. Their names were Anthony, Alberto and Adrian. Three little brothers that caught my eye because the middle one looked just like my nephew Jose Luis. It touched me to think of everything my nephew has and how little this boy had. I spent a good 4 hours just sitting on the sidewalk talking about toys, tv, video games, what their favorite food was and where their mom was. I was surprised at the maturity l
evel of the eldest brother. He was only 10 years old and he was telling me how his mother had been sexually assaulted 4 times and that the last time, she was killed after she was raped. He said this so casually when I asked him that I realized how immune he was to the difficulty of life. Being hungry and trying to feed his brothers had numbed the pain of losing his mother. Truly my friends, this was one of the best moments of my entire life. All I did was play and yet I was full of joy and the definition of doing something positive for someone came into fruition. Later that afternoon, after I said goodbye (the youngest boy gave me a hug when I left that I'll never forget) I went to the ruins of the old cathedral. It was basically destroyed with the earthquakes and you
feel more like you are visiting a damaged Italian basilica than you are walking through a Guatemalan cathedral. The inside is amazing and it is almost untouched by time. Wild flowers grow freely inside and the pillars are all where they originally fell as the earth shook 300 years ago. It is both eerie and inspiring to walk through the church´s nave in silence. After an hour of just thinking and talking pictures in the old building, I went back to the hostel and ate a bit. When it got dark, I went out with a few people for drinks, told them about my day and how it had made me think about life, our experiences, and how we got to where we were today. Involved in conversation, I realized (although I have always known) how truly important our family is. The
conversation revolved around why we all were doing what we were doing and the reasons for it. Each person had a different answer and most of them (a sort of catharsis if you will) talked about running from something be it a good or a bad thing. I was also running but not fleeing. I was running from the establishment, from the mundane, from the boredom of not having something to look forward to. In that realization, as we talked out loud, I mentioned to the group how we have our parents to thank. Most parents of travellers, voyagers, explorers are never quite content with the idea of them venturing off into foreign lands where they are exposed to crime, disease, theft and the many many other "ridiculously crazy ideas" that creep into their minds. However, it IS because of our parents that we are who we are. They may not have pushed us into this abyss of neverending excitement, experience and knowledge yet they did contribute a great deal to our life experience and to the formation of our every need, desire and curiosity. From my mother, I have compassion, empathy, the ability to argue and win, stubbornness, impatience, anxieties, the ability to give without expecting in
return and family values. From my father, I have the desire to discover, the questioning of ideas and knowledge, the art of manipulation, determination, charm, a sense of humor, the facility to say things that would embarass even the dirtiest minds and yet the capacity to distinguish when it is a time to have class and show a more serious side. From both, I was given the freedom to have been who I am and unconditional support in every aspect of my life so that I may continue on this search for truth, happiness and to make a difference somehow in the world. I thank my parents from the deepest corners of my heart and soul for everything they have done for me and everything they have given me without even knowing they are also a part
of this experience; Every second of it. I thank them for indirectly feeding hungry children and for indirectly getting me a bit drunk, for putting me in a path full of love and despair and mostly, for giving me freedom. Mankind's most prized posession. If we don't have personal freedom, we don't have anything. The philosophical conversations came to an end at the small Antiguan bar as we spoke of a million random subjects. We went across the street, danced for 30 minutes at a very nice club and decided to leave. In the end, we all went to bed and the evening came to its close. The next morning, I arrived at the corner of a travel agency to get on my 'minibus' to Guatemala City again. From there I would take the 11A.M. bus to San Salvador,
El Salvador. I was not really looking forward to El Salvador but because it's Christmas time, ALL OF THE DIRECT BUSES TO NICARAGUA WERE OVERSOLD! Well, to get to Granada, Nicaragua before Christmas, I already knew it would be an ordeal of gigantic proportions. Back on track, my bus left on schedule from Guatemala City (it was a nice pullman bus with air conditioning and reclinable seats..that would be the last time I saw a bus like that). As I arrived at the Guatemala-El Salvador border, I was surprised at the lack of immigration hassle I encountered. I was told by the authorities that Central America (Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras & Nicaragua) have a consortium of entry/exit requirements for foreigners. When you enter one of the countries, you have 90 days from that day to exit any of the other countries. That was all I got. No stamp, no search, no nothing. I could have been importing a backpack full of cocaine and they would have never known. Anyway, the ride through was quite smooth and we arrived in San Salvador at about 3P.M. WHAT A SURPRISE! I could not believe how culture shocked I was. It was like being in the U.S. I don't know why
there are so many Salvadoreans in America when they have a country completely funded by the Americans. The national currency is the U.S. dollar and downtown San Salvador (all of it.. I went everwhere) looks like Atlanta or Omaha or Orlando or Minneapolis. Ultra modern malls, highways, Wendy's, Burger Kings, KFC's, Pizza Huts, Taco Bells, Diesel, Zara, YOU NAME IT, they got it. San Salvador has an incredibly bad reputation in the 'west' because of their bloody revolution years back but since then, the U.S. has funded the country to help stabilize the region. I met one bum (Richard) who happened to be American roaming the streets of San Salvador near an area called "MicroCentro". He is called "El Pintador" or the painter by the kids around the area because he draws portraits of people and barely makes a dollar a day. I found it interesting how the tables were turned. The Americans that don't have jobs and live as bums in America have headed down to El Salvador in search of warmth and sun and the vibrant latin culture. I personally did not enjoy San Salvador because it is not what I was looking for. I want contact with the people. I have been talking to many locals and getting their
perceptions on the economy, politics, the U.S., Cuba, Chavez, and a million other things. In San Salvador, they turn their face and continue walking, minding their own business; Classic San Juan! The big "rich" cities of Latin America have lost their old flair charm. Anyway, I found this cool little hostel called "Doña Ximena's Hostel" where I stayed for the night. In San Salvador, I had to take almost a whole box of Imodium (stomach problems my friends) because I was stupid enough to go to Wendy's. I have been eating street food the whole time (no water though) and have been perfectly fine. I ate at Wendy's and I wanted to die. What a shame! Well anyway, back to San Salvador.. At the hostel, I met girl named Debra from Calgary, Canada. She was living in Mexico and had decided to
travel through Central America before she had to go back to work in January. We decided to go out to the new "hip" part of town and watch the locals and mingle a bit. She was advised to go to a bar called "Lipps" which at around 9P.M., we took a taxi to. IT WAS A TITTIE BAR! I was laughing soooo hard because the poor girl was sent to a whore house for a good time. We briefly went inside and these girls were literally naked rubbing their bare shaven vaginas on the chins of dirty poor Savadoreans. I had never seen something like that and obviously in life, there's always a first. When I say rubbing my friends, I mean rubbing. It was a sight to be seen! I hope no one was offended, I've said it as I've seen it. Anyway, Debra did not want to stay there and we spoke to the taxi driver about going somewhere more central. Somewhere where all the locals hang out. I also needed a pharmacy
because I got pink-eye. Conjunctivitis is rampant in Central America and with all the shit you touch, you need to wash your hands every 5 minutes. I must have skipped a 5 minute interval at some point *grin* (I guess my hand sanitizer wasn't all that great). Anyway, I bought my eye drops (I'm completely fine now) and we continued on to "La Gran Vía" (the supposed hangout). Well people, WHAT A HANGOUT! The Gran Via is a mall, like any American mall, designed to be the congregation center for all of the Salvadorean youth. It is a mall full of bars and discotheques (literally real dance clubs) so that they have a safe area to go out and party and meet other people. For those of you who travelled to Europe with me 3 years ago, I was even surprised to see BERSHKA (a cool italian store that exists all over Europe) next door to "El Mono Loco" (a bar with live music). I had one drink and we headed back. El Salvador is expensive and I wanted to spend the least possible amount of Dollars that I possibly could. I arrived at Ximena's place at around midnight and went straight to bed. By the way, until today, it had been 5 days without a shower. You can imagine the smell that was exuding from
my armpits and my crotch area. The water from the faucets is literally disgusting and the one coming out of the shower smells like volcano sulfur (I'm not surprised given that this region is one of the most volcanically active in the world). I have a few scratches on me from falling down that hill in Tikal so I don't want that water (I'm not an expert but maybe bacteria can come in through my skin) giving me an infection of some sort. I have cleaned my scratches with Piure Hand Sanitizer if you are worried that I will catch something. Anyway, I'm clean now and we'll get to that story later on. The next day I woke up late. Not too late, just a bit late to arrive early in Granada if I ever wanted to get there before Christmas. I took a taxi to the "Estación de Oriente" or Eastern Station in San Salvador to take a bus to the Honduran border. LORD JESUS MOSES MOHAMMAD AND BUDDHA! The bus was one of the worst "chicken buses" I have ever seen. It was going to be a 2 1/2 hour journey on an incredibly packed and incredibly uncomfortable chicken bus to Santa Rosa de Lima (a town near the border and you couldn't beat that price! $4.00) Eventually, I arrived in Santa Rosa and
it was about 3P.M. The sun felt close to setting and I was beginning to worry. There was another bus (this one even worse) that took me to the border (another 30 minutes) and from there, I had to walk or take a sort of peddaling machine that had a driver and a kind of poopy scooper in the front for your bags. I took that because I'm suffering from my famous back pain and didn't want to strain my back muscles any more than I needed to. I did immigration on the Honduran side and had to pay $3.00. As soon as I walked out into Honduras (it's all actually open air) I had culture shock once again! Now THIS was poverty. Mexico is in good shape, Guatemala is very touristic and quite beautiful and I recommend it to anyone, Belize is shady and somewhat
like the Dominican Republic, El Salvador is like being in Puerto Rico and Honduras felt like I was about to adopt a Malawian baby with Madonna. People were screaming, rushing me to take their bus, there were used diapers on the ground, syringes, dead dogs and food vendors among that plethora of FILTH. I know I will encounter this type of thing and I'm not by any means judging it. Simply put, if you go south in Central America it goes from good to tolerable to bad to scary to disturbing to better to good again as you travel from Guatemala to Panama. I had reached the scary / disturbing part. Well, they put my back pack on top of the CRAMMED "pisa y corre" or "colectivo" or in simple English, ghetto minibus and I hopped in. The problem was there was no space and I had to sit up front with the driver, a strange lady WHO WAS CARRYING A CHICKEN BY HER FEET (I was wearing flip flops and was terrified that the chicken would start plucking at my toes) and to top it all off, the stick shift was between my legs (one of those long ones that wouldn't really disturb anything but added to the agony). Once again, you can't beat the price. For a 2 and a half our ride to the Nicaraguan border, it
was .90 cents U.S. I didn't really see much of Honduras because there was seriously no time. I drove through the southern coast and it was spectacular. It looks like southern Spain or Southern California. Pretty dry with greenish / yellow mountains, lots of goats, cows and bulls and no matter how poor or solitary a home was on the side of the road, the roof was covered in "tejas" or those orange looking Spanish roof tiles. Very classic and beautiful. Once at the Nicaraguan border at Guasaule, I was swarmed with about 10 people begging me to hire them to take me to immigration for 10 Cordobas (about .55 cents). Well, when travelling, they say to do it in luxury so I took the little tuk-tuk in the dusty border town with horns honking everywhere, the smell of cooked dead dog and more delicious diapers dotting the "boulevard" I was travelling in style. Mind you, it was already dark and the government officials were charging me left and right for entrance and exit fees. I truly did not care what they charged me as long as I got out of there safely. I was taken into a dark area (I was seriously TERRIFIED for the first time on the trip) to exchange dollars / lempiras / cordobas illegaly. I wanted a good rate and they truly rob
you at the borders when it comes to exchanging. I made friends with my tuk-tuk guy and told him I would give him a nice tip (remember he charges .55 cents) if he got me someone that could give me a good exchange into Nicaraguan Cordobas. Well, he did what he needed to do and took me into the dark area.. I still must say, I shit my pants (not literally though.. that comes later). Aurelio (tuk tuk man's name) was talking to me about the political situation and the economy. Practically the moment you enter Nicaragua, that is the ONLY topic of conversation coming from any local's mouth. The average salary in Nicaragua is $850 a year so you can understand how simple this country is. It is not as dirty as Honduras and the people are much nicer and are more willing to help. Bush's danger warning on Nicaragua is simply a political move to punish Nicaraguans for voting left instead of right. Anyway, back on track once again, I gave Aurelio $7.00 for door to door service (he took me to the bus I had to take). That is 14 times what he makes in a ride. This guy even gave me a hug. I got on my bus happy and smiling. The bus I got on was going to a town called Chinandega. From there I would
have to take a bus to Leon and then the next day, a bus to Managua and then a transfer to Granada. I was exhausted. Well my friends, as they say, you give and you shall receive, I met Don Julio on the little minibus to Chinandega. Julio was an incredibly smart man whom I interviewed extensively during the whole ride and much later throughout the night. I would say he is about 55 years old and had the typical lined gold teeth abundant in the region. He is a bit dark skinned and seemed a genuine, honest, hard working Nicaraguan man. As we rode, we got to know eachother. It was about 7P.M. and we had a long night ahead of us. Julio began talking about the road we were on. In Nicaragua, it was a highway but it was a rock road; not dirt, not mud, ROCK. We were jumping up and down the whole way to Chinandega because it was unpaved. He told me the story of how Venezuela funded the road to be paved and the Nicaraguan government stole the money and it was simply never finished. He talked about the governments of Nicaragua from the 45 year dictatorship to the Sandinista movement to the "democratically" elected thieves the country has had since Violeta Chamorro
in the early 90's. He isn't exactly for Daniel Ortega (the leftist ex-sandinista from the 80's) but he says he's the only viable option right now for the country. Most people here trust that this guy will actually pull Nicaragua out of "poverty". On the list of countries in the western hemisphere, it is second to last only after Haiti (the poorest country in the Americas), yet Nicaragua is extremely modern and western. I asked Julio how this was possible. He explained to me that Nicaragua produces NOTHING and pretty much exports NOTHING. It's GDP is 900,000 dollars which is practically NOTHING. Everything in Nicaragua is foreign. The roads are built by Japan or Taiwan or Korea. The oil is sent by Venezuela or Ecuador. The meat comes
from Argentina and so on. Most of it for free! Simply donated. Venezuela has just offered to begin selling oil for 25% of the price only because Nicaragua cannot afford it. In El Salvador, gas for your car costs $3.06 a liter! and in Nicaragua it was about .90 cents a liter. Still more expensive than in Puerto Rico's .60 cents a liter but nonetheless, cheaper than the rest of Central America. Don Julio talked about his affairs in Honduras and Costa Rica and how he smuggles people across borders for better lives. In the middle of that conversation, Adam (the guy who is travelling with me) tells me he just shit his pants and he feels sick. He got the bad diarrhea but he couldn't hold it on the bus and told me how there was a 2 inch terd squishing itself with his thighs and butt cheeks. Could it get any more ridiculously uncomfortable. I had a headache, I was hungry, I've got an American on a Nicaraguan bus shitting his pants (I was telling everyone he was Canadian from Toronto to avoid any anti-american bashing) and I was trying to pay attention to Don Julio's interesting stories. Once we arrived, Julio was kind enough to help with directions in Chinandega to take my next bus and even showed me w
here there was a gas station mini mart to go to the ATM and get money. Adam went to the bathroom and shit on the walls.. As he did that, I had bought myself french fries, a fanta, a hot dog and a redbull (I had not eaten for 12 hours) when I went into the minimart. Once I walked out, there were 2 kids standing in front of me staring at me straight in the eyes. You had to be there. They broke my heart. I went back to Don Julio with just a red bull. I couldn't eat that food in front of those hungry kids so I gave them my food and really almost made me cry to see them fight for the fries. The fry box (I mean, who has ever talked about the thing you put fries in) was ripped apart. In my backpack I had an extra coke. It was warm, but I was sure it would do. I ran back to the children and gave them the coke. There was a guy there that was looking over them and came over to tell me how some people are sent by God to help the misfortunate. As much as I'm not religious and don't really believe in God as most people do, I had to keep myself from breaking down. I WAS JUST HUNGRY and wasn't expected to be put in that position. All things happen for a reason. Anyway, Don Julio was waiting outside and Adam was out of the bathroom. Julio asked me if I wanted to take a taxi from Chinandega straight to Granada (a
4 hour drive) and I asked him how much it would cost me. He said $30 and he would stay on the way there and the driver would continue on to Granada. I could not believe it. It was as if karma was on my side and this man had just dropped from the sky. I did not have to go to Leon and find a hotel and sleep in a shady town and deal with 3 bus rides the next morning. I could just arrive in Granada that evening at around 1A.M. and have a good nights sleep. On the way to Granada, they stopped in Leon for us to see the cathedral, and then we stopped at a little restaurant on the highway to Managua where I ate a DELICIOUS churrasco with rice and tostones for $2.00. The restaurant was blasting Reggaton music and all the kids were asking me if I was Italian. When I said I was from Puerto Rico, they started asking me if I knew Daddy Yankee and if it was possible for them to meet him! It was quite funny. We left soon after and continued on our way. By the time we got to Managua, it was about midnight. Managua was well lit, and the area that I drove through was very beautiful. The call it "La Cara de la Suegra" which means, the mother in laws face. Julio told me the reason they call it that is
because when you have your mother in law over, you clean the house and show the nicest side to her. Behind that living area, you have the ugly aunts and grandmothers waiting for the mother in law to leave so they can come out. So basically, it was the nice part of town and they were showing us the pretty area so we wouldn't judge Managua. I had already made up my mind. Nicaragua was amazing and I was loving every second of it. As we left Managua, we approached a town called Masaya (where Julio would be dropped off). I said goodbye and he gave me his number so that he can hook me up with a place by the sea at the end of the month. I thanked him for everything and we said goodbye. The drive to Granada was only about 20 more minutes and I was thankful to finally arrive. When I got to the "Bearded Monkey" (the name of the hostel) they had no beds available! Just my luck! They offered me a hammock to sleep on though and I gladly took it. The hostel has a gorgeous colonial courtyard in the center with hammocks encircling the courtyard. It's a beautiful place but I have not explored Granada.. I have met tons of children and done amazing things. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve so I'm off to explore Granada and see who I meet and what kids I play with.. I'm looking forward to it. Sorry about not posting pics here but the computers in Nicaragua are slow and it would take forever to upload them. I'll upload them when I go to Costa Rica in about 10 days. Until the next posting my friends!
TWO THINGS - One, I will apologize for not posting pictures on this entry. The internet in El Salvador was very expensive ($1.00 for 30 minutes) and the internet here in Nicaragua is too slow and uploading pics would be hell so eventually, you'll see everything I will write about here in photos. Second, let me say that I shot myself in the foot by not writing for three days. I had to write everything down on a pad of paper because the travelling was hectic and I had not ime to sit and get online. That being said, let me catch you up where we left off. The day before I left Antigua, I spent all afternoon playing with homeless kids on the street. We did handstands against the walls and I took loads of pictures. I bought them all food and I can't wait till you see the smiles on these kids faces. Their names were Anthony, Alberto and Adrian. Three little brothers that caught my eye because the middle one looked just like my nephew Jose Luis. It touched me to think of everything my nephew has and how little this boy had. I spent a good 4 hours just sitting on the sidewalk talking about toys, tv, video games, what their favorite food was and where their mom was. I was surprised at the maturity l
evel of the eldest brother. He was only 10 years old and he was telling me how his mother had been sexually assaulted 4 times and that the last time, she was killed after she was raped. He said this so casually when I asked him that I realized how immune he was to the difficulty of life. Being hungry and trying to feed his brothers had numbed the pain of losing his mother. Truly my friends, this was one of the best moments of my entire life. All I did was play and yet I was full of joy and the definition of doing something positive for someone came into fruition. Later that afternoon, after I said goodbye (the youngest boy gave me a hug when I left that I'll never forget) I went to the ruins of the old cathedral. It was basically destroyed with the earthquakes and you 
feel more like you are visiting a damaged Italian basilica than you are walking through a Guatemalan cathedral. The inside is amazing and it is almost untouched by time. Wild flowers grow freely inside and the pillars are all where they originally fell as the earth shook 300 years ago. It is both eerie and inspiring to walk through the church´s nave in silence. After an hour of just thinking and talking pictures in the old building, I went back to the hostel and ate a bit. When it got dark, I went out with a few people for drinks, told them about my day and how it had made me think about life, our experiences, and how we got to where we were today. Involved in conversation, I realized (although I have always known) how truly important our family is. The 
conversation revolved around why we all were doing what we were doing and the reasons for it. Each person had a different answer and most of them (a sort of catharsis if you will) talked about running from something be it a good or a bad thing. I was also running but not fleeing. I was running from the establishment, from the mundane, from the boredom of not having something to look forward to. In that realization, as we talked out loud, I mentioned to the group how we have our parents to thank. Most parents of travellers, voyagers, explorers are never quite content with the idea of them venturing off into foreign lands where they are exposed to crime, disease, theft and the many many other "ridiculously crazy ideas" that creep into their minds. However, it IS because of our parents that we are who we are. They may not have pushed us into this abyss of neverending excitement, experience and knowledge yet they did contribute a great deal to our life experience and to the formation of our every need, desire and curiosity. From my mother, I have compassion, empathy, the ability to argue and win, stubbornness, impatience, anxieties, the ability to give without expecting in 
return and family values. From my father, I have the desire to discover, the questioning of ideas and knowledge, the art of manipulation, determination, charm, a sense of humor, the facility to say things that would embarass even the dirtiest minds and yet the capacity to distinguish when it is a time to have class and show a more serious side. From both, I was given the freedom to have been who I am and unconditional support in every aspect of my life so that I may continue on this search for truth, happiness and to make a difference somehow in the world. I thank my parents from the deepest corners of my heart and soul for everything they have done for me and everything they have given me without even knowing they are also a part 
of this experience; Every second of it. I thank them for indirectly feeding hungry children and for indirectly getting me a bit drunk, for putting me in a path full of love and despair and mostly, for giving me freedom. Mankind's most prized posession. If we don't have personal freedom, we don't have anything. The philosophical conversations came to an end at the small Antiguan bar as we spoke of a million random subjects. We went across the street, danced for 30 minutes at a very nice club and decided to leave. In the end, we all went to bed and the evening came to its close. The next morning, I arrived at the corner of a travel agency to get on my 'minibus' to Guatemala City again. From there I would take the 11A.M. bus to San Salvador, 
El Salvador. I was not really looking forward to El Salvador but because it's Christmas time, ALL OF THE DIRECT BUSES TO NICARAGUA WERE OVERSOLD! Well, to get to Granada, Nicaragua before Christmas, I already knew it would be an ordeal of gigantic proportions. Back on track, my bus left on schedule from Guatemala City (it was a nice pullman bus with air conditioning and reclinable seats..that would be the last time I saw a bus like that). As I arrived at the Guatemala-El Salvador border, I was surprised at the lack of immigration hassle I encountered. I was told by the authorities that Central America (Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras & Nicaragua) have a consortium of entry/exit requirements for foreigners. When you enter one of the countries, you have 90 days from that day to exit any of the other countries. That was all I got. No stamp, no search, no nothing. I could have been importing a backpack full of cocaine and they would have never known. Anyway, the ride through was quite smooth and we arrived in San Salvador at about 3P.M. WHAT A SURPRISE! I could not believe how culture shocked I was. It was like being in the U.S. I don't know why 
there are so many Salvadoreans in America when they have a country completely funded by the Americans. The national currency is the U.S. dollar and downtown San Salvador (all of it.. I went everwhere) looks like Atlanta or Omaha or Orlando or Minneapolis. Ultra modern malls, highways, Wendy's, Burger Kings, KFC's, Pizza Huts, Taco Bells, Diesel, Zara, YOU NAME IT, they got it. San Salvador has an incredibly bad reputation in the 'west' because of their bloody revolution years back but since then, the U.S. has funded the country to help stabilize the region. I met one bum (Richard) who happened to be American roaming the streets of San Salvador near an area called "MicroCentro". He is called "El Pintador" or the painter by the kids around the area because he draws portraits of people and barely makes a dollar a day. I found it interesting how the tables were turned. The Americans that don't have jobs and live as bums in America have headed down to El Salvador in search of warmth and sun and the vibrant latin culture. I personally did not enjoy San Salvador because it is not what I was looking for. I want contact with the people. I have been talking to many locals and getting their 
perceptions on the economy, politics, the U.S., Cuba, Chavez, and a million other things. In San Salvador, they turn their face and continue walking, minding their own business; Classic San Juan! The big "rich" cities of Latin America have lost their old flair charm. Anyway, I found this cool little hostel called "Doña Ximena's Hostel" where I stayed for the night. In San Salvador, I had to take almost a whole box of Imodium (stomach problems my friends) because I was stupid enough to go to Wendy's. I have been eating street food the whole time (no water though) and have been perfectly fine. I ate at Wendy's and I wanted to die. What a shame! Well anyway, back to San Salvador.. At the hostel, I met girl named Debra from Calgary, Canada. She was living in Mexico and had decided to 
travel through Central America before she had to go back to work in January. We decided to go out to the new "hip" part of town and watch the locals and mingle a bit. She was advised to go to a bar called "Lipps" which at around 9P.M., we took a taxi to. IT WAS A TITTIE BAR! I was laughing soooo hard because the poor girl was sent to a whore house for a good time. We briefly went inside and these girls were literally naked rubbing their bare shaven vaginas on the chins of dirty poor Savadoreans. I had never seen something like that and obviously in life, there's always a first. When I say rubbing my friends, I mean rubbing. It was a sight to be seen! I hope no one was offended, I've said it as I've seen it. Anyway, Debra did not want to stay there and we spoke to the taxi driver about going somewhere more central. Somewhere where all the locals hang out. I also needed a pharmacy 
because I got pink-eye. Conjunctivitis is rampant in Central America and with all the shit you touch, you need to wash your hands every 5 minutes. I must have skipped a 5 minute interval at some point *grin* (I guess my hand sanitizer wasn't all that great). Anyway, I bought my eye drops (I'm completely fine now) and we continued on to "La Gran Vía" (the supposed hangout). Well people, WHAT A HANGOUT! The Gran Via is a mall, like any American mall, designed to be the congregation center for all of the Salvadorean youth. It is a mall full of bars and discotheques (literally real dance clubs) so that they have a safe area to go out and party and meet other people. For those of you who travelled to Europe with me 3 years ago, I was even surprised to see BERSHKA (a cool italian store that exists all over Europe) next door to "El Mono Loco" (a bar with live music). I had one drink and we headed back. El Salvador is expensive and I wanted to spend the least possible amount of Dollars that I possibly could. I arrived at Ximena's place at around midnight and went straight to bed. By the way, until today, it had been 5 days without a shower. You can imagine the smell that was exuding from 
my armpits and my crotch area. The water from the faucets is literally disgusting and the one coming out of the shower smells like volcano sulfur (I'm not surprised given that this region is one of the most volcanically active in the world). I have a few scratches on me from falling down that hill in Tikal so I don't want that water (I'm not an expert but maybe bacteria can come in through my skin) giving me an infection of some sort. I have cleaned my scratches with Piure Hand Sanitizer if you are worried that I will catch something. Anyway, I'm clean now and we'll get to that story later on. The next day I woke up late. Not too late, just a bit late to arrive early in Granada if I ever wanted to get there before Christmas. I took a taxi to the "Estación de Oriente" or Eastern Station in San Salvador to take a bus to the Honduran border. LORD JESUS MOSES MOHAMMAD AND BUDDHA! The bus was one of the worst "chicken buses" I have ever seen. It was going to be a 2 1/2 hour journey on an incredibly packed and incredibly uncomfortable chicken bus to Santa Rosa de Lima (a town near the border and you couldn't beat that price! $4.00) Eventually, I arrived in Santa Rosa and 
it was about 3P.M. The sun felt close to setting and I was beginning to worry. There was another bus (this one even worse) that took me to the border (another 30 minutes) and from there, I had to walk or take a sort of peddaling machine that had a driver and a kind of poopy scooper in the front for your bags. I took that because I'm suffering from my famous back pain and didn't want to strain my back muscles any more than I needed to. I did immigration on the Honduran side and had to pay $3.00. As soon as I walked out into Honduras (it's all actually open air) I had culture shock once again! Now THIS was poverty. Mexico is in good shape, Guatemala is very touristic and quite beautiful and I recommend it to anyone, Belize is shady and somewhat 
like the Dominican Republic, El Salvador is like being in Puerto Rico and Honduras felt like I was about to adopt a Malawian baby with Madonna. People were screaming, rushing me to take their bus, there were used diapers on the ground, syringes, dead dogs and food vendors among that plethora of FILTH. I know I will encounter this type of thing and I'm not by any means judging it. Simply put, if you go south in Central America it goes from good to tolerable to bad to scary to disturbing to better to good again as you travel from Guatemala to Panama. I had reached the scary / disturbing part. Well, they put my back pack on top of the CRAMMED "pisa y corre" or "colectivo" or in simple English, ghetto minibus and I hopped in. The problem was there was no space and I had to sit up front with the driver, a strange lady WHO WAS CARRYING A CHICKEN BY HER FEET (I was wearing flip flops and was terrified that the chicken would start plucking at my toes) and to top it all off, the stick shift was between my legs (one of those long ones that wouldn't really disturb anything but added to the agony). Once again, you can't beat the price. For a 2 and a half our ride to the Nicaraguan border, it 
was .90 cents U.S. I didn't really see much of Honduras because there was seriously no time. I drove through the southern coast and it was spectacular. It looks like southern Spain or Southern California. Pretty dry with greenish / yellow mountains, lots of goats, cows and bulls and no matter how poor or solitary a home was on the side of the road, the roof was covered in "tejas" or those orange looking Spanish roof tiles. Very classic and beautiful. Once at the Nicaraguan border at Guasaule, I was swarmed with about 10 people begging me to hire them to take me to immigration for 10 Cordobas (about .55 cents). Well, when travelling, they say to do it in luxury so I took the little tuk-tuk in the dusty border town with horns honking everywhere, the smell of cooked dead dog and more delicious diapers dotting the "boulevard" I was travelling in style. Mind you, it was already dark and the government officials were charging me left and right for entrance and exit fees. I truly did not care what they charged me as long as I got out of there safely. I was taken into a dark area (I was seriously TERRIFIED for the first time on the trip) to exchange dollars / lempiras / cordobas illegaly. I wanted a good rate and they truly rob 
you at the borders when it comes to exchanging. I made friends with my tuk-tuk guy and told him I would give him a nice tip (remember he charges .55 cents) if he got me someone that could give me a good exchange into Nicaraguan Cordobas. Well, he did what he needed to do and took me into the dark area.. I still must say, I shit my pants (not literally though.. that comes later). Aurelio (tuk tuk man's name) was talking to me about the political situation and the economy. Practically the moment you enter Nicaragua, that is the ONLY topic of conversation coming from any local's mouth. The average salary in Nicaragua is $850 a year so you can understand how simple this country is. It is not as dirty as Honduras and the people are much nicer and are more willing to help. Bush's danger warning on Nicaragua is simply a political move to punish Nicaraguans for voting left instead of right. Anyway, back on track once again, I gave Aurelio $7.00 for door to door service (he took me to the bus I had to take). That is 14 times what he makes in a ride. This guy even gave me a hug. I got on my bus happy and smiling. The bus I got on was going to a town called Chinandega. From there I would 
have to take a bus to Leon and then the next day, a bus to Managua and then a transfer to Granada. I was exhausted. Well my friends, as they say, you give and you shall receive, I met Don Julio on the little minibus to Chinandega. Julio was an incredibly smart man whom I interviewed extensively during the whole ride and much later throughout the night. I would say he is about 55 years old and had the typical lined gold teeth abundant in the region. He is a bit dark skinned and seemed a genuine, honest, hard working Nicaraguan man. As we rode, we got to know eachother. It was about 7P.M. and we had a long night ahead of us. Julio began talking about the road we were on. In Nicaragua, it was a highway but it was a rock road; not dirt, not mud, ROCK. We were jumping up and down the whole way to Chinandega because it was unpaved. He told me the story of how Venezuela funded the road to be paved and the Nicaraguan government stole the money and it was simply never finished. He talked about the governments of Nicaragua from the 45 year dictatorship to the Sandinista movement to the "democratically" elected thieves the country has had since Violeta Chamorro 
in the early 90's. He isn't exactly for Daniel Ortega (the leftist ex-sandinista from the 80's) but he says he's the only viable option right now for the country. Most people here trust that this guy will actually pull Nicaragua out of "poverty". On the list of countries in the western hemisphere, it is second to last only after Haiti (the poorest country in the Americas), yet Nicaragua is extremely modern and western. I asked Julio how this was possible. He explained to me that Nicaragua produces NOTHING and pretty much exports NOTHING. It's GDP is 900,000 dollars which is practically NOTHING. Everything in Nicaragua is foreign. The roads are built by Japan or Taiwan or Korea. The oil is sent by Venezuela or Ecuador. The meat comes 
from Argentina and so on. Most of it for free! Simply donated. Venezuela has just offered to begin selling oil for 25% of the price only because Nicaragua cannot afford it. In El Salvador, gas for your car costs $3.06 a liter! and in Nicaragua it was about .90 cents a liter. Still more expensive than in Puerto Rico's .60 cents a liter but nonetheless, cheaper than the rest of Central America. Don Julio talked about his affairs in Honduras and Costa Rica and how he smuggles people across borders for better lives. In the middle of that conversation, Adam (the guy who is travelling with me) tells me he just shit his pants and he feels sick. He got the bad diarrhea but he couldn't hold it on the bus and told me how there was a 2 inch terd squishing itself with his thighs and butt cheeks. Could it get any more ridiculously uncomfortable. I had a headache, I was hungry, I've got an American on a Nicaraguan bus shitting his pants (I was telling everyone he was Canadian from Toronto to avoid any anti-american bashing) and I was trying to pay attention to Don Julio's interesting stories. Once we arrived, Julio was kind enough to help with directions in Chinandega to take my next bus and even showed me w
here there was a gas station mini mart to go to the ATM and get money. Adam went to the bathroom and shit on the walls.. As he did that, I had bought myself french fries, a fanta, a hot dog and a redbull (I had not eaten for 12 hours) when I went into the minimart. Once I walked out, there were 2 kids standing in front of me staring at me straight in the eyes. You had to be there. They broke my heart. I went back to Don Julio with just a red bull. I couldn't eat that food in front of those hungry kids so I gave them my food and really almost made me cry to see them fight for the fries. The fry box (I mean, who has ever talked about the thing you put fries in) was ripped apart. In my backpack I had an extra coke. It was warm, but I was sure it would do. I ran back to the children and gave them the coke. There was a guy there that was looking over them and came over to tell me how some people are sent by God to help the misfortunate. As much as I'm not religious and don't really believe in God as most people do, I had to keep myself from breaking down. I WAS JUST HUNGRY and wasn't expected to be put in that position. All things happen for a reason. Anyway, Don Julio was waiting outside and Adam was out of the bathroom. Julio asked me if I wanted to take a taxi from Chinandega straight to Granada (a 
4 hour drive) and I asked him how much it would cost me. He said $30 and he would stay on the way there and the driver would continue on to Granada. I could not believe it. It was as if karma was on my side and this man had just dropped from the sky. I did not have to go to Leon and find a hotel and sleep in a shady town and deal with 3 bus rides the next morning. I could just arrive in Granada that evening at around 1A.M. and have a good nights sleep. On the way to Granada, they stopped in Leon for us to see the cathedral, and then we stopped at a little restaurant on the highway to Managua where I ate a DELICIOUS churrasco with rice and tostones for $2.00. The restaurant was blasting Reggaton music and all the kids were asking me if I was Italian. When I said I was from Puerto Rico, they started asking me if I knew Daddy Yankee and if it was possible for them to meet him! It was quite funny. We left soon after and continued on our way. By the time we got to Managua, it was about midnight. Managua was well lit, and the area that I drove through was very beautiful. The call it "La Cara de la Suegra" which means, the mother in laws face. Julio told me the reason they call it that is 
because when you have your mother in law over, you clean the house and show the nicest side to her. Behind that living area, you have the ugly aunts and grandmothers waiting for the mother in law to leave so they can come out. So basically, it was the nice part of town and they were showing us the pretty area so we wouldn't judge Managua. I had already made up my mind. Nicaragua was amazing and I was loving every second of it. As we left Managua, we approached a town called Masaya (where Julio would be dropped off). I said goodbye and he gave me his number so that he can hook me up with a place by the sea at the end of the month. I thanked him for everything and we said goodbye. The drive to Granada was only about 20 more minutes and I was thankful to finally arrive. When I got to the "Bearded Monkey" (the name of the hostel) they had no beds available! Just my luck! They offered me a hammock to sleep on though and I gladly took it. The hostel has a gorgeous colonial courtyard in the center with hammocks encircling the courtyard. It's a beautiful place but I have not explored Granada.. I have met tons of children and done amazing things. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve so I'm off to explore Granada and see who I meet and what kids I play with.. I'm looking forward to it. Sorry about not posting pics here but the computers in Nicaragua are slow and it would take forever to upload them. I'll upload them when I go to Costa Rica in about 10 days. Until the next posting my friends!
1 comment:
the picture of the 3 boys is AMAZING!!! has to be your top 5!!!
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