A Man, A Plan, A Canal, Panama I: ytiC amanaPanama City

Latin American schools don't really have a "Spring Break." Instead, they have Holy Week. From Maundy Thursday to Easter Sunday, everything is shut down in San José, some of it by law in Costa Rica (after all, Catholicism is constitutionally the state religion here). Schools are closed, buses don't run, government buildings are locked up. My host mom told me that years ago, people threw stones at anyone who had the irreverent nerve to leave their houses on Good Friday. As a result, the tradition was born that everyone leaves the city and goes to the beach. A few friends and I decided to do the same, but since our program gave us all of Holy Week off, we tacked on a trip to Panama City.

The day before Palm Sunday, a few friends and I awoke early to board a 7:30 am bus to David, just across the border in Panama. We arrived at 8:00 pm (11 1/2 hour ride plus a time zone change). We waited a couple hours, then boarded a double decker express bus to Panama City, arriving to our hostel there at 5:30 am. All in all, a 22 hour trip. I almost died.

After sleeping for an eternity, we awoke and set out to explore the city. One friend described it as Miami, except in a different country. After a stop at an artisan market to purchase the souvenirs by which to remember the Panamanian adventures we had not yet experienced, we headed to the Amador Causeway, an artificial land bridge connecting three harbor islands to the city by road. It was constructed by depositing the excess earth from the Panama Canal excavation in the sea. It was a very touristy area: mostly a cruise ship stopping point complete with Bennigan's, but still very tuanis (cool). Below is a picture of the Causeway with the Puente de las Americas in the background, until recently the only road connection between North and South America since the construction of the Canal.

The next day we traveled to what we thought would be the highlight of the trip: the (in)famous Panama Canal. It was neat to see it of course. There was a decent museum at the Miraflores Lock where one can see the ships pass through. However, it all ended up being slightly anti-climactic. Perhaps I was expecting too much. Moreover, I left my camera at the hostel. I'll post pictures I took with a friend's camera as soon as she posts them on Facebook. After the Canal, we tried to take a bus to the still-standing colonial part of the city, Casco Viejo, but instead took a bus to the destroyed colonial part of the city, Panama Viejo. The ruins were the work of Henry Morgan, the pirate who sacked the city in the late 1600s. Today it stands in a sketchy slum not too far from the modern downtown area. Those pictures are also forthcoming.

The last day in the city, we explored the aforementioned Casco Viejo. This area of town is very similar to the French Quarter in New Orleans. Old Spanish architecture, narrow streets with the overhanging balconied buildings almost blocking out the sun, and interesting smells. However, we visited three beautiful old churches, three museums, the ruins of an old convent and the Plaza de Francia, which offered the pictures of the buildings below and the skyline above. Also in Casco Viejo were the Casa Presidencial (Panama's White House) and the beautiful National Theatre.

Perhaps the niftiest part of Casco Viejo was the San José Church, a 17th Century baroque construction complete with a golden altar. The altar was saved from Henry Morgan's invasion by the church's priest. He painted the golden altar black and convinced the pirate that it was made of wood. ¡Qué dicha! Thank goodness! The altar is truly a treasure to see in person.

We left the city that evening on an 8-hour overnight bus trip to our beach destination: Bocas del Toro.

Hipermás

After two months of passing by it while walking home from Tai Chi classes, I decided today out of curiosity to stop in at Hipermás, the Costa Rican Wal-Mart subsidiary. I really don't know what I was expecting. Maybe some sort of cultural enlightenment or catharsis? Maybe proof that things here are different and Costa Rica isn't headed down the road to being the single huge mall that is the United States?

But of course, the Fates were not kind. Hipermás is exactly the same as Wal-Mart, so I did exactly what I would do back home. I walked in, felt an instant angst for the existence of the mass consumerism/corporate profit motive/environmental destruction complex, got drawn in by the electronics department, ended up buying something I didn't need (in this case a can of Pringles) and left realizing that I was no more than a pawn in the system I had just minutes before bemoaned. Huge failure. I think I'll stick to the local Perimercado grocery store for the rest of my stay (which incidentally is now less than a month).

Pura vida (or maybe not today...),
Eric

Feelin' Groovy

Just pulled off an awesome and grammatically-correct Spanish sentence without planning it out ahead of time. "Es como lo mío, pero siempre lo limpio antes de que Lorena venga". With added context, I said my room is usually as dirty as my housemate Uriel's, but I always tidy it up before our cleaning woman Lorena comes. Not an impressive sentence in itself (I've definitely said more complex things) but the fact that I didn't have to think it through before saying it is a testament to how far along my Spanish has come!

Bijagua

Last weekend I found myself on a field trip to the northern province of Alajuela with my "Environmental Impact and Society" class. I went to plant trees and hike with three other students and the professor (or, as another student has correctly dubbed her, "not really our teacher, more like the badass woman who comes to talk to us about the environment in the morning"). After a four-hour drive through the countryside, we arrived at a gorgeous little town named Bijagua situated in a valley between the towering Miravalles and Tenorio volcanoes. We dropped off our things and went for two hikes. First, we hiked an easy path with some hanging bridges in the forest behind our hotel. Then we took a difficult hike to see a natural spring on a nearby foothill of Miravalles. And I mean difficult: the adventure required scaling large rocks walking up and down steep slopes with next to zero flat stretches and sloshing through creek beds. I came out dehydrated with a badly scraped elbow and a nearly sprained ankle. It was definitely worth it to see the waterfall and river source at the end as a natural underground aquifer drained out the side of the mountain dozens of feet above us.

We awoke early the next morning to go to work in the fields. On the way out, we spotted three toucans in a tree outside the hotel. Finally I saw them in the wild! Of course, my camera was locked in the van, so I have no pictures. You'll have to take my word that I saw them. Following the morning's excitement came two hours of clearing weeds from around newly-planted trees, a picnic lunch, and two more hours of clearing weeds and planting new trees. I planted 8! Hopefully that will negate my carbon footprint from the flight down here. Before we left the field, another volunteer showed us the ceiba tree in the forest near our field. The tree was 600 years old and had to be at least 50 feet high. I estimated it would take at least 20 men holding hands to encircle the trunk. A true testament to the beauty and power of nature and why we must protect it. Of course, I have no pictures because my camera was still locked in the van at this point.

We all slept extraordinarily well that night then awoke for one last hike before our return to the city. This hike along the Río Celeste in Parque Nacional Volcán Tenorio was the highlight of the trip and a contender for my best experience in Costa Rica so far. Because of certain volcanic minerals bubbling up from underground into the river and forming a colloidal solution, the river is an intensely bright blue. Here are a few pictures from the hike.

The best part was the waterfall, probably the most beautiful spot I have yet seen on Earth. The splash of bright colors, the light weight of the mist on your skin and in your lungs, the scent of the fresh spring water hanging in the air, the soft soothing sound of the waterfall plunging into the pond below all create a sensual masterpiece for those lucky enough to visit. New life goal: to return to the Catarata del Río Celeste.

We sadly departed for San José but had a great discussion on the woes of American consumerism in the van on the way back. A cherry on top of the weekend's environmentally-friendly cake.

Pura vida,

Eric

Nicaragua III: Ultimate Destiny

After a hasty departure from the market at Masaya, we arrived to Managua, the capital of Nicaragua. A flock of taxi drivers met us at the bus stop, all asking us to ride in their taxi. We found one and paid a seemingly high fare of $15 to ride to the hotel (the taxis in Nicaragua do not have meters). We later discovered it should not have cost more than $5 for the ride...oops. We did not allow our mistake to ruin the city for us and had a hotel taxi driver/tour guide take us around the city before dusk. We'll call him Eduardo because he never actually told us his name.

Eduardo first took us to the mirador or lookout above Managua. The park there also included a large monument to Augusto Sandino (the revolutionary who inspired the Sandinista movement) and one of the myriad and inexplicable 30-ft high wire Christmas trees around the city. On the slope below was the Hormiguero (Anthill), a jail in which political prisoners were tortured under the corrupt Somoza family political dynasty/dictatorship in the 60s and 70s. Behind the city "skyline" is Lake Managua and more volcanoes.

Next stop was the Plaza de la Revolución, constructed by the Sandinistas to celebrate their victory in overtaking the government in 1979.

Surrounding the plaza was a large park, the Casa del Pueblo (above), the Palacio Nacional, and the Antigua Catedral (below). You'll notice the word solidaridad on two signs. This word appears around Managua on billboards as Sandinista party quasi-socialist propaganda. Definitely makes you rethink the use and meaning of that word (@ Creighton service trips).

Outside the Palacio Nacional was a series of posters reminiscing about Managua before the 1972 earthquake which completely leveled the city. In fact, some of the only buildings remaining standing after this quake were the lone skyscraper seen in the "skyline" picture, the Palacio Nacional, and the Antigua Catedral, which was seriously damaged and closed to the public.

After a quick stop at the touristy port/boardwalk on the lake, we headed into the suburbs. I was shocked to find the Mall Santo Domingo, a gigantic ritzy shopping center to rival the fanciest suburban malls in the States. It was so surprising after having seen the squalidness of the market in Masaya earlier that day. It really hit home then how Latin America has the largest income disparity of any place in the world. We got a taco platter for dinner there from the delicious Guatemalan taco chain Tacontento (a name with a double Spanish play on words that would take too long to explain here) and swung by a supermarket to pick up PB & J supplies for the bus ride the following day. While my traveling companions were inside, I remained in the cab and had a great discussion with Eduardo about poverty, education, the respective armies of Nicaragua and the U.S., and the Ortega administration's foreign policy. Best part: all in Spanish. Pretty sure that would qualify as a "fluent" conversation for me. Too bad I can't practice speaking every day with Eduardo.

We returned to the hotel, enjoying Coke and Flor de Caña (Nicaraguan rum often voted best in the world) while watching parts of the Oscars awkwardly dubbed in Spanish by unsteady translators. We arrived back in San José the following night after surviving the 10 1/2 hours bus ride back. During the ride, I snapped a picture of Volcán Concepción which juts out of Lake Nicaragua and forms part of the island of Ometepe (largest freshwater lake island in the world).

Overall, Nicaragua was fantastic! I'd say it was the best vacation of my life. It was a shame I could only spend 3 days there. I'd really like to go back one day.

Pura vida,

Eric

Nicaragua II: Bigger and Better

After two great nights in Granada, we left on the "chicken bus", which is nothing more than an old but brightly painted American schoolbus like the one below. They can be green, orange, red, yellow, purple, or any combination of colors. Two assistants to the driver ride the bus and one hangs out the open door calling to pedestrians to get on the bus in the same way a vendor might sell hot dogs at a baseball game. The 30-minute ride to the next city cost 10 córdobas, or about 50 cents.






We got off the chicken bus at Masaya, a city famed as a market center and as the cultural capital of Nicaragua. We debarked in a dusty unpaved lot and walked through a seemingly endless collection of wares, everything from "Monopolio" to melons, from haircuts to horchata, and from bananas to "ball-in-a-cup". The best part: everything was cheap. And I mean CHEAP. I got a guayabera (a typical Latin American collared shirt with four pockets), a handmade hammock, and a t-shirt all for less than $20. We got a bit lost outside the artisan market and wandered through the area probably intended only for locals. This is where the "third world" state of Nicaragua hit me. The heat and crowds were oppressive, toothless salesman sold fruit off rickety stands and carts, and the trash lining the dirt roads made the smell and atmosphere unbearable. Walking through that haunting part of the market made a deep impression on me and has been a source for reflection ever since.

We asked some socks salesmen for directions out of the market, located the bus stop and quickly jumped on board a departing bus for the capital Managua. As we were leaving though, one could make out the strains of Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" over the crowds (hint: foreshadowing).

Nicaragua I: The Beginning

How do I love Nicaragua? Let me count the ways.

I left San José on the Ticabus at 6:00 am Friday morning. All three Shrek movies in Spanish later, we arrived to the Costa Rican-Nicaraguan border. Ri. Diculous. The Costa Rican side was orderly and calm except for the cambistas outside exchanging currency, and we waited in line as an immigration official methodically stamped each of our passports one at a time. On the Nicaraguan side, however, the station was bustling with impoverished beggars and sidewalk vendors of sandals, ice cream, and pirated DVDs. We handed all of our passports to one bus official who had them mass stamped by a Nicaraguan official and handed them back to us.

We hopped back on board the Ticabus and rode around the outskirts of Lake Nicaragua (10th largest freshwater lake in the world) while observing everything from oxen pulling carts of fruit in Nandaime to people pulling rickshaws in Rivas. We arrived to Granada, a colonial city and former capital of Nicaragua on the northern shore of the Lake.

The city was beautiful, full of ornate churches and well-preserved colonial buildings. Marring the setting was the swarm of noticeably malnourished beggars and children selling cigarettes in the tourist sections of the city. They were at first difficult to turn down. Later, a notice printed on a restaurant menu advised us not to give to them because more often than not (at least in the comparatively rich city of Granada) the beggars just want tourist food like french fries and buying cigarettes from children encourages them to stay out of school. I still don't know how to feel about it because there were people there that obviously needed immediate help.

However, we pressed on with the exploration of the city. First, we went to the belltower of La Merced church which, for a $1 donation to the church renovation fund, offered a grand view over the city. In the background are the Catedral de Granada and Lake Nicaragua (known to locals as Cocibolca).

The city had several beautiful churches, among them la Iglesia Xalteva (first) and la Iglesia María Auxiliadora (second).

We wrapped up a day with a tour through Las Isletas, a group of 365 islands in the Lake formed by an ancient explosion of the nearby Volcán Mombacho. Today, everything exists there from a boat graveyard and an indigenous village to a monkey reserve and luxury mansions. Below is a picture of the ceiba tree on one of the islands, a tree regarded as holy by many indigenous groups throughout Central America.

We stayed long enough to see the sunset over the lake from the Isla del Castillo, site of a 17th Century Spanish fort designed as a lookout to protect Granada from pirate invasions. That's right. Lake pirates.

Some more high points from Granada:

1) Smoke on the horizon. We thought at first that forest fires might have been threatening Granada. Au contraire, a tour guide told us. The locals were in fact burning some trees to drive out iguanas, which they would catch, roast, and eat for the upcoming Holy Week.

2) Power outages. Granada experienced some rolling blackouts one night we were there. It was not a faulty grid, but downed power lines caused by falling trees (whether related to strong winds or to the iguana massacre, I know not). It was difficult negotiating through the hotel and down the street to the restaurant district with absolutely no light, not even from cars.

3) Azul. I bought the c. 1890 book by Rubén Darío, Nicaragua's most famous writer, while in Granada. I tried to read a couple of the included poems. I may or may not finish it.

Sunday morning we awoke early and left for Masaya and Managua, cities to be discussed in upcoming posts.

Book Club

I'm currently reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez's classic novel Cien Años de Soledad (One Hundred Years of Solitude). The book tells the story of seven generations of the Buendía family, a clan facing the realistic vicissitudes of historic Latin American life accompanied by an underlying magical mysticism. Throughout the course of the novel, the Buendías suffer revolutions, rapes, plagues, incest, suicides, and a whole host of other family-friendly occurrences while also encountering clairvoyancy, alchemy, and immortality.

I brought a Spanish copy of the novel with me, making it a goal to get through all 471 pages while in Costa Rica. After all, Cien Años is more or less the quintessential Latin American novel. Right now I'm on page 211. I encourage you all to find a copy in whichever language you choose and dive in!

Hungry, Hungry Hippo

I like to eat, and well too. While I've been enjoying the cuisine here for the most part, there are some regular American foods I miss because (a) they're too expensive to enjoy or (b) they're just not eaten by the locals.

Top 5 Foods I Miss:

5. Lettuce

Allegedly unsafe to eat unless it's been cleaned extremely well.

4. Milk

Not sold by the gallon here, but in smaller cartons. Usually only used in coffee, but occasionally in cooking too. Not often for drinking.

3. Apples

Available at supermarkets, but at about twice the price as in the States. Better to get bananas at about 18 cents a pound.

2. Cheese

Cheese exists...but it's not good. You can get generic American slices, but most of what exists at reasonable prices are a bland mozzarella/Swiss ick. I pine for a hunk of colby jack.

1. Peanut Butter

At a little over $4 for an 18 oz jar, peanut butter is best savored sparingly.