Early views

I visited Nicaragua during the rainy season, though I didn’t see a drop of rain. And despite being “winter,” the temperatures remained in the 90s. It was strange to adapt to the tropical humidity, to the sweat gelling on my face, to feeling like a smushed pancake in an uncooled cafeteria, where diners moved about with sweat stains growing under their arms or against their backs.

One afternoon, I visited the Mercado Oriental, the largest market in Nicaragua, and supposedly in Central America. This market supplies the entire country. Vendors buy their products there, where rock bottom rates are offered, then resell them throughout Managua and the countryside.

The hustle and bustle of the market has given it an unsavory reputation and my guidebooks advised caution in going there. I went with Henry, a local known by many in the market. So I was able to walk around without much concern for security issues.

It was a fireworks show of colors, sounds, smells and activities, simultaneously beautiful and disgusting, one image alternating with another. I spoke to a woman who sold plastic bags, plastic utensils and shelf lining. Old sheets of corrugated metal hung in all directions, with strips of torn fabric underneath. A bare-chested man with a potbelly leaned against a chair nearby, sweat glistening on his shoulder. A little girl with stringy hair and unhealthy eyes, but a friendly smile and jump to her step, approached the table to buy some orange plastic bags.

I watched a mouse run nearby and I twitched nervously as I anticipated it approaching my foot. Among these dark, smelly, dirty surroundings, the woman selling plastic bags looked bright and hardworking.

Women sold items from the tops of their heads, including a large pink iced cake, sold by the slice. Vendors juiced fresh fruit into plastic bags and sold them with a straw. I saw mancha, a beautiful red and pink powder made from corn, used to made a drink, next to cocoa.

At a watermelon stand, I bought a small, round, light green melon for just over 50 cents. At the back of the stall, a toddler shit on a rock with his mother’s supervision. His mother picked up the feces with a plastic bag, as if a dog.

We walked through smoke, heat and oil, through dirt-cheap piles of bananas and limes. Men sold blue plastic rectangles of water, carried in a plastic bag of chilled water. Buyers bought these bags, that looked like water balloons, drunk half, dribbled the rest on their heads, then threw the plastic to the ground.

On another day I headed two hours south to the town of Rivas. The town itself was attractive, with a large cathedral and a newly painted central square with benches in the color of the rainbow. Yellow bicycle taxis, called pepanos, pedaled along the narrow streets. Children in navy blue uniforms lined up in front of the blue and white flag, singing the national song in preparation for the independence day holidays the next week.

Rivas’ proximity to Costa Rica leads to many locals migrating to Costa Rica for work. Despite the geographical nearness, Beatriz, an employee in Rivas, said the cultures are distinct.

“The Nicaraguan people are very hardworking,” she said, “especially the women. In Costa Rica, they don’t work as hard and the women are different.” She said the Costan Rican government invested in tourism and that the resources are divided more equally than in Nicaragua.

“In addition,” added my colleague Armando, “we spend 20% of our taxes on an army we don’t need. Costa Rica doesn’t have one.”

I caught a glimpse of Lake Cocibolca, the giant lake that fills up much of Nicaragua’s western space. It’s not often I see the form of a volcano, Mount Concepcion, rising up over lake waters, so that was a nice treat.

We drove through banana plantations, past guava and coconut trees, and among fields of sugar cane, on our way to visit a small banana and lime farmer. We passed a lot of home that displayed black and red (Sandinista) or red (Liberal) flags. There were many more black and red than red only.

“Those who have flags are fanatics for that party,” a Rivas resident, Jose, explained to me.

We drove down a hot dirt road, passing field workers riding bicycles with chemical tanks strapped to their backs. Local residents constructed their homes out of sheets of corrugated metal. One had a heart painted on it, “Unity, tranquility and peace” written within it. A wide guarumo tree trunk, whose large leaves are used to wrap cheese, was painted bright pink, the color of the Sandinistas. “Yo voy con Daniel 2 (I’m going with Daniel),” it read, referring to the Sandinista candidate, Daniel Ortega.

The roads were uniformly lush and green. But the standards of living were poor and I found the poverty sad, overwhelming and dirty. The woman we visited lived in two rooms with six others. The house was stifling hot, with mud floors and spiderwebs. Her 16-year-old son had dropped out of school and was working for $50 a month. Her younger children, including the little boy innocently sleeping in the hammock, seemed destined to follow the same fate.

Another day, I paid a visit to a farmer at the opposite end of the spectrum. This family owned a nice house and truck and exported their products – okra, squash, green beans, cantaloupe, watermelon and eggplant – to the U.S. They had an alter to the Virgin Mary, on which they’d placed a sample of their different veggies, to keep them always blessed. The large, fertile fields used modern irrigation and technology.

Not many miles separated these two families. But they moved in different worlds.

Loop on the Tour Bus

I spent today seeing some of Costa Rica by bus. Not my favorite way to travel, but it was better than the other option I was considering – hanging out in the hotel for the day.

The tour bus picked us up at our hotel, took us around and returned us back to the hotel. With one exception, most of the meals and the opportunities to buy things were at large developments, owned by people who already have a lot of money. Only the final stop, a small shop at the end of a boat ride, was owned by locals. I bought my water there. We’ll be leaving for Panama tomorrow and never walked outside of our hotel (not much reason to, it’s just a freeway outside) or changed any money. Dollars are accepted easily here.

We traveled with a group of about 20 tourists, all of whom were picked up from their hotels on the outskirts of the city. Several were attending an epidemiological conference. Quite a few were taking several of these day trips. Despite having quite a bit of time in country, they preferred to see things from the comfort of a bus, then return to a comfortable hotel in San Jose than to spend more time in other areas of the country. I suppose one can see more that way, but I think the level of understanding is less. I wished for the opportunity to talk to the local residents and thought if I had more time, I’d head right for a small town.

We saw a nice variety of things – a coffee estate, a wildlife and waterfall garden, the Poas volcano crater and a boat ride down the Sarapiqui river. My favorite part was the volcano. The crater was one mile wide, with a lagoon within it and white smoke emerging from fumaroles. It was raining when we arrived and we had to walk ten minutes in the rain to arrive. I was carrying River in a front carrier and using an umbrella. I couldn’t believe how well he held up, even laughing when we arrived.

The La Paz Waterfall Garden is a man-man tourism center, constructed by its very wealthy owner. It is well designed though and offers visitors the opportunity to see many birds, butterflies, snakes, monkeys and frogs at very close range. It’s a very good place for families to visit.

They told us when we entered that we should remove any earrings. One woman in our group didn’t listen though and a bird grabbed her earring right out of her ear, then returned to its post to eat it. Even River, at six months old, seemed to enjoy the indoor butterfly sanctuary, with the colorful creatures flying in front of him, and the area where the hummingbirds gathered at feeders, darting around us like little high-powered bees.

The series of waterfalls are of courser natural. The owner purchased the land and made it into a private reserve. He also constructed a series of walkways and stairs (1600 of them, mostly heading downhill) that make it easy to descend the series of waterfalls and get very close to the powerful sprays.

The river trip was short, but relaxing and full of wildlife, In and near the olive-colored water we saw an iguana in a treetop, monkeys, a caiman, an aninga bird, and long nosed bats, small bats that look like butterflies or moths and perch upon wood and rocks on the river’s edge.

River was amazingly well behaved and captured the hearts of many on the bus. They couldn’t believe how happy and content he was and seemed amazed when I said he was usually like that. I said we lucked out that he was born that way; But a woman from Spain, upon seeing me changing him on a stone table and River laying calmly on the hard surface, thought the way the parents acted had some effect. “A lot of people wouldn’t even come on a trip like this,” she said, “because they think they need so much stuff or that their child must eat or sleep at certain times. You seem to have gotten him used to adapting.” Maybe, or maybe he was just born a great traveler. In any case, I’m proud of him and grateful to have a companion.

We didn’t bring a stroller on this trip, since I could only carry so much on my own. Without a stroller, swing, jumper or bouncy seat, I’m holding or carrying him the vast majority of the day. That can get tiring, however, the Ergo baby carrier is working very well.. River is content in there and it’s quite comfortable for me and leaves me with two hands free.

Arrival in San Jose

River and I made it to San Jose today. It was a long day, starting with a 2:40 a..m. wake up call. It didn’t help that I’d gone to bed after one, giving me about an hour of sleep to go on.

We flew on Delta via Atlanta. The flight was scrunched as usual nowadays, no pillow, a charge to see documentaries on the personal video screen. But the service seemed pretty friendly and enthusiastic compared to what I usually experience on U.S. airlines. It was my first time flying Delta and I would use them again.

Upon landing, I could see the greenness of the area around San Jose, the many trees and the white and red brick structures. The modern airport was easy to navigate. I enjoyed seeing a man playing a guitar in the gate area, collecting tips and selling his CDs, and seeing another man rolling cigars for sale. When an airport worker saw me coming, carrying River on my chest, he told me I could go through the immigration line for Costa Rican nationals, since it was much shorter.

There is an official taxi stand right out front. I paid at the counter and didn’t have to worry about coming across a crooked driver. Our driver was a very nice man. He has a 12 year old and a one year old son, so he was interested in River. His son was named Nikolas, after family members who married Russians and ended up staying there.

As he drove us to our hotel, rain loomed on the horizon. He said it’s now the rainy season and afternoon rains will continue through October. We made it to the hotel just before it started to pour.

We’re staying at The Adventure Inn, a place I came across on TripAdvisor. I wasn’t enthralled with what I’d read about San Jose. It sounded like a place where one always has to look over their shoulder and the descriptions brought back memories of my bad experience in Nicaragua. The Adventure Inn sounded good because it was outside of the city center, has a Jacuzzi on the premises and tour buses stop by daily to take people outside the city, to see the sights of Costa Rica. While I’m not a tour bus person by nature, on my first trip overseas alone with baby, I thought I should take extra precautions. I’d want my husband to do the same.

When we arrived at our room I could hear the beautiful sound of the rain pounding on the roof above us. River behaved remarkably well on the trip, but we’d been on the road 12 hours and were both tired. So we spent the afternoon sleeping.

Afternoon stretched into evening for him and he’s still asleep, while I sit out on the patio outside our room and work on the computer. I had a simple, but tasty Tican meal of grilled chicken with rice, beans, fried plantains and salad. The night air is cool and comfortable. I look out at trees and expensive residences. I can hear the chirp of insects and the alternating barks of two dogs.

I signed us up for a day trip tomorrow, a four in one tour that takes in coffee production, butterflies, a volcano and a river wildlife boat ride. Without a swing, a bouncy seat or a jumper, I’m really unable to put River down except when he is sleeping. As long as I have to have him in my arms all day, we might as well be on the move and seeing something. For me, that’s the best possible combination. I get to enjoy quality time with him and be learning and exploring myself.

Farm Share, Week 2

In our second week of membership in a local farm, the selection increased a bit. This week we took home spinach, tatsoi, arugula and collards (as before) plus radishes, peas and salad mix, all organic.

Since River and I left this morning for Costa Rica and Mark isn’t much of a vegetable eater, we gave our babysitter what she wanted, then gave away the rest on freecycle.

I couldn’t believe the response. At least 10-15 people responded to my free offer within the first hour. The demand for fresh, quality vegetables seems to be there, if only the price could be affordable. Of course, there is something special about knowing that your food was in the ground nearby just hours or days before eating it. I sampled the salad mix and thought it had a sweet, full taste, better than what I usually buy.

I took the peas with me to the airport and enjoyed them in the terminal while waiting for our flight. I bit into the sweet pods, taking in the smooth, young peas together with their crunchy exterior, Looking around at the bowls of processed cereal for sale for $5 and a variety of other processed, expensive, low-quality foods, I felt I was the luckiest person in the airport.

Escape from the Heat

Today is the fourth day in a row that temperatures have approached 100 degrees. The streets are almost empty of pedestrians, as people try to stay inside and enjoy the A/C. We have our two wall units running full blast, 24 hours a day. We’ve had to move River into our bedroom because it is too hot without air conditioning.

Tomorrow River and I leave for Costa Rica, then Panama. Where we will be in Panama, it’s now winter. The forecast is for sunny mornings, scattered showers in the afternoons and cool evenings. Funny that we’re heading south to cool off.