March 12, 2009

The day began with an ill=concieved plan to hike up to the old SJDS lighthouse. We walked down the beach and past the harbor, finding a steep path through a derelict neighborhood. Trash was strewn all about, as in most undeveloped (and developed, for that matter) areas of Nicaragua. Dogs barked fiercely at as through shoddy, improvised fences as e mounted the hill, finally finding several unmarked paths. Rather than getting lost in this rather unwelcoming area, we decided to head back.

Our second plan worked much better. While Reuben, Lizzie, Patrick and Natasha went ATVing, Heather and I decided to visit the graveyard at the edge of town. We walked, the sun beating down on us as we passed a demolished school van.

The monuments were colorful, garish even. Plastic flowers impaled the hunched soil of the graves and were strewn about the monuments. I suppose they don't require replacement, which makes them a logical choice. Also present were the graves of the poor, barely or totally unmarked.

We returned and prepared ourselves for the evening's final adventure: a fishing booze cruize of the SJDS coastline. Though I didn't manage to catch anything, it was fun to go out on the water anyway. It reminded me of my childhood summers on the lake by my house, fishing for trout as the sun set.

We ate at Iguana's, and then entertained a throng of new friends at the apartment with Flor de Caña and a rousing card game. After that was the Crazy Crab Dance Club, at which I stayed for a little while, but soon left to catch the breeze and clear my head.

March 11th, 2009

Heather and I woke up early to make reservations for horseback riding. We joined Natasha for a western-style breakfast at El Gato Negro. After wandering around town looking for souvenirs and reading by the beach, we headed for La Casa Oro, where we were to be picked up for the tour.

A short ride by the cemetery and we found ourselves on a bumpy dirt road bordered by brightly painted ramshackle ranches. At our destination, we were greeted by Guillermo, our guide. He outfitted us with horses and we were on our way.

It had been a full 14 years since I had ridden a horse, and it was certainly an awkward endeavor. Being a slightly bony chap, the saddle was a tad uncomfortable, and being out of practice, I was clearly riding incorrectly. The result? A rather pronounced discomfort in my genital region. It took some getting used to, but sooner or later I more or less figured things out.

Down the dirt road we trotted, past small properties and houses, most of which had posted signs which read "Se Vende" (for sale).

The residences subsided as we entered more dense forests, crossing streams and climbing over rocks. My horse was a character, and it took some learning to figure out how to control it. Heather, a member of the Wesleyan Equestrian Team, stifled laughter as she attempted to give me some advice ("squeeze with your thighs, nudge with your heels and push down on the stirrups," she said, riding beside me elegantly).

Natasha, who also had little experience riding, seemed to be doing fine; that is, until we got to the beach. We followed our guide to a small, rocky area that was partially submerged by the rising tide--the only way to get to the adjacent beach. Directly in our path lay the dried remains of a gnarled tree, the branches reaching at our feet from the slippery rocks. Though the rest of our horses managed, Natasha's horse took a silly turn and ended up caught on the branch. Natasha's leg was pulled backwards as the horse continued forwards. As she fell, I thought she would break a leg at the very least... Her scream was quenched by the shallow waters, and as she was submerged, we held our breath.

A moment later, she bounded up from the water, checking herself for broken limbs and wounds. She was fine! After explaining this to our guide (who was profoundly concerned for Natasha's well-being), she got back on her horse and we continued onto the next beach. Natasha is a champion.

We eventually came to a steep incline, which continued up to an overgrown path. Up we went, and the trees and thicket eventually gave way to a precipice, from which we could see the entire bay. The vegetation was strange; like fried spaghetti, it was crunchy and tangled underfoot, about knee high. It reminded me of dodder, a parasitic plant. The trees were also strange--simple and modern (or archaic), and accompanied by groves of seaside cactus. I snapped some pictures and we continued on.

The vegetation became higher and denser, rubbing against our legs and feet. Exotic burrs and stickers covered the legs of my pants. As we made our way to a longer beach, the horses began to speed up, their shoeless hooves stomping the dusty ground. When we reached the sand, they increased their speed even further, and I held on for dear life as a rattled about on my saddle. It sure felt like a gallop, but Heather told me later that it was just a canter. Whatever it was, it felt really fast to me.

We took a quick break to climb on some seaside rocks, from which we could see the northern coast of Costa Rica. After a long while we returned to our horses, which were hitched under a stone ledge surrounded by millions of scurrying hermit crabs.

By the time we reached the ranch, a faint rainbow of colors was visible on the horizon, ushering in the golden light of sunset. Our bus was late, so we sat and enjoyed the shade of Guillermo's patio as we waited. After a while, Guillermo brought our a baby ocelot--and extremely cute mesoamerican cat. We took pictures and videos as the month-old cat stumbled awkwardly around and meowed. Its fur was soft and dense. Guillermo claimed it was an orphan and his family was taking care of it until it could support itself in the wild. Guillermo took the cat away after he found some one to drive us home in back of a pickup truck.

It was quite an experience; an incredible day.

March 10th, 2009

I woke up very early this morning. There was no real reason for this. A couple of hours later I caught breakfast with Patrick and Reuben, exchanging funny college stories. They went off to a surf lesson and I went back to bed.

A little while later I went back out to lunch with Lizzie, Heather and Natasha. After a grilled cheese and a banana shake, Heather and I headed off to climb the SJDS cliffs in search of the lord jesus christ.

Jesus was elusive. An enormous, unfinished statue stood waiting on the tallest cliff, with only a couple of hidden, small, winding and incredibly steep (practically vertical) roads leading in its direction. We wandered a bit before finding the pikeman who guarded the entrance to the comically pitched cobblestone road. The sun beat down on us as we toiled slowly up the giant hill, joking about the fact that cars would probably not be able to get up more easily that us. Along the way we discovered a double-helipad. Interesting.

Further up the hill we discovered a privileged view of Nacascola Bay and took some pictures. By this point I was almost sure we were heading in the wrong direction, but Heather suggested we look around the corner and see what was there.

It was jesus.

Up another steep hill and a very uneven set of cement stairs; we stood at the base of the enormous, unfinished statue. It was surrounded by scaffolding on which several workers were busily shaping and fitting its many pieces together. Directly in front was an enormous metal cross, painted white and covered with graffiti and rust. All around were pieces of the great plastic jesus, most prominently his two holy hands. The compound was surrounded by the most incredible view of the entire bay.

I noticed several entrances in the base of the statue, mostly filled with beams, tools, and other such things for construction. One, however, contained a numbered, scale model of the finished statue. I snapped a few quick photographs before one of the workers wandered in and angrily ushered me out the door. Heather and I got the message, and we left quickly.

After the long journey down the cliffs we stopped for ice cream at the Eskimo and joined everyone else up at the luxury pool. Our Penn State friends were also there; perhaps they were staying at the Pelican Eyes. A quick dip, and early (expensive) dinner, and it was back to the apartment for a long siesta. We finished the evening with drinks and cards.