We caught a smart bus to the border with Costa Rica.  The Nicaraguan border control was relatively straightforward (the bus staff handled it all for us) whereas the Costa Rican border control was a hot and sticky three-and-a-half hour wait outdoors.  The queue moved at a snail’s pace and it was too late when we realised that people had been getting off buses and pushing in front of us.  No matter, some of us took the opportunity to braid each other’s hair while others decided to take a nap as we queued.

Jodie provides "border braiding" services to Val

Justine naps vertically so as not to ruin her new braids

After an interesting random search of our bags (where we had to neatly line up our bags on a long bench for someone to smile at them but decide not open any) we re-boarded our bus and headed for the capital, San Jose.

Volcan Maderas is believed to be extinct and is lined with forest all the way to the top.  A 6:30am start ensured that we would reach the crater and return before sunset.  The view as we climbed was a little hazy but none-the-less stunning.

Extreme measures to prevent cow on side of volcano escaping through fence

Lucy, Mikey, Celine, Safe and Annie in the cloud forest

As we climbed, we passed through dry farmland followed by woods then squelched through wet and muddy cloud forest until we reached the summit.  We decended into the misty crater to reach our prize – a lake lined with lush forest.  Naturally at the first sign of water (and after a hot four hour climb) we went for a dip.

What we didn’t quite appreciate about the lake was that it was filled with volcanic mud, a fine silty mud which is thick but doesn’t actually support your weight.  The first 10 or 20 metres were spent doing an impression of Frankenstein moonwalking through cottage cheese until the water was deep enough to float in.

Frankensteins wade into the crater lake

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A customarily hot, sweaty and noisy chicken bus took us to the port of Rivas from where we caught the ferry to Ometepe.

Approaching Ometepe where volcanoes really look like volcanoes!

After a rest and a swim in the lake, we rounded off the evening with a meal of fish and plantain at Restaurante Julia.

Sunset at Ometepe

We found the mangroves quite shallow for our two-man canoes as it wasn’t the rainy season, and our kayaks ran aground on a few fallen trees, but we managed to squeeze through with some gentle persuasion.  We were shown the abundant flora and fauna including the amusing chicken flower.

Jodie and Val gracefully navigate the mangroves

Annie and Safe show them how it's done!

Carlos shows us a chicken flower

Eventually we headed out of the mangroves and back out into open water where we explored some of the 365 islets, several of which were for sale, including one approximately 30m in diameter on offer for a cool US$100,000 (in case anyone is interested in a pile of rocks in the middle of a lake in Nicaragua).

The final part of the tour was a visit to an old Spanish fortress to pet a cute puppy then go for a refreshing swim.

Cute puppy

Same cute puppy

Somehow we managed to invite ourselves for an evening meal with Carlos and his family at his home.  We canoed past several fishermen and tried to buy enough large Wapote (Rainbow Bass) for all of us (including Carlos, his wife, his mother-in-law and his three children).  Unfortunately the fishermen only had the smaller Mojara so we planned to go to the market later.

Fisherman

Good catch of Mojara but no Wapote

We didn’t find our Wapote at the market as it had already sold out so we settled for 13 Mojara instead.  After buying a selection of vegetables, we sat down to a bit of lunch (which of course included Gallo Pinto).

Carlos appeared at our hotel to take us to his home.  We realised how small Granada was when he greeted the receptionist who was his wife’s cousin.  (The receptionist was bizarrely called Yasser Vladimir – he was neither Arab nor Russion but his parents liked the names).  We walked into the suburbs of Granada where the locals live and where the colonial houses end and the cobbled streets turn into mud tracks.

Carlos’s home was basic and comprised three small rooms and an outside cooking area to house his six family members.  We prepared the vegetables outside but cooking took a while (understatement) as he had one small electric pan device.  The twin girls Elena and Amanda (aged 6) ran amock and played football and barbie, and Christian (aged 10) practised his English.  The twins might have looked the same but couldn’t have been more different.  Elena is sporty whereas Amanda likes her jewellery and cleaning up.  Val kept the kids entertained and even volunteered to be a life-size barbie whilst we attempted to cook the fish.  The first few attempts ended in disaster as frying fish fell to pieces until the mother-in-law took over and the fish came out perfect, complete with Nicaraguan style tomato salsa.

Jodie chops onions

Elena and Amanda with Val

First attempt at frying Mojara

The finished article

Grandma, Christian, Christina and Carlos

Granada

Safe had his hair cut by a man who used a razor blade and a pair of large kitchen scissors.  There seems to be some misunderstanding with barbers because Central Americans are practically hairless and Safe most definitely isn’t.  One day we’ll learn the Spanish for “scraping the blunt razor over it again and again will remove more skin but not more hair!”.

As we approached the border with Nicaragua, the coach turned into an impromptu school bus as herds of polite and smartly dressed kids jumped on and off.  Eventually the kids disappeared as we approached the border.  After the customary dance with our passports and a random dollar fee, we marched across a river bridge in the blazing sun and entered into Nicaragua.

A worn welcome to Nicaragua

A private bus took as to our final destination, the colonial university town of Leon.  Our hotel is called Hotel Balcones, but as you can see in the picture of the hotel plans, it’s former name was more amusing:

Hotels aren't what they used to be

The evening’s meal was a (now customary) barbeque feast served by a couple of enterprising Nicaraguan Mamas in the square behind the cathedral.  We were interested in the rice and red beans on offer and asked for “arroz”.  One of the ladies corrected us with a stern look and told us it was “Gallo Pinto” which is the name of the bean itself.

Factoid: (written several days later) – several kilograms of Gallo Pinto will be ingested by us (and especially by Jodie) over the coming days, particularly at breakfast.

By the way, a very Happy Birthday to Aunty Betty, 91 today!!! Annie & Safe.