Our trip to Nicaragua (Part 1 of however many it takes)

Sunday, March 24.

3:30 AM

I woke up. I hit snooze for 10 more minutes hoping that it would feel like another hour. It felt like 10 seconds. I crawled out of bed and turned on the light. Shock is about the only way to get you motor running at that time of day.  Bright lights. Cold water to the face. You know the drill. 10 minutes later I was ready to go. I hauled my two backpacks down the stairs where I met my friends standing a little dazed in the kitchen. We all downed a glass of water and I took a banana for the road. (You know you’ve met amazing people when they let you sleep at their house and then they wake up with you at 3:30 in the morning to drive you to the bus station…I hadn’t seen Andrea in maybe more than a year and we never talked much, and I had never met her boyfriend whose house I stayed in that night.)

The next 10 hours are a blur. They pretty much just consisted in me sleeping. Waking up to hand the guy my passport. Sleeping. Waking up to get off the bus at the border. Getting back on the bus and crossing the border. Getting back off the bus on the other side of the border. Waiting in the sun for the lady to find her lost bag. Getting back on the bus and getting my passport back. Going back to sleep until Managua, Nicaragua. Getting off the bus. Getting my bag. Going to the hotel. 2:30 PM

Sarah and Vanessa landed at 9:30 that night. Hugs. Tears. Laughs. The works.

Monday, March 25.

We woke up. Ate hotel breakfast (because who doesn’t love hotel breakfast?) Packed. Talked to the friendly guy at the front desk about our plans for the rest of the week. Then we headed out to find the bus to Granada. As we were about to make our first mistake in following the directions, the bus zoomed up, and a sweaty Nicraguan man yelled “GRANADA! MANAGUAGRANADA MANAUAGRANADA MANAGUA GRANADA!” Before we really knew what was happening we were all perched on a hot sweaty bus with our backpacks spread rather un-strategically throughout and our spirits high. An hour later we were spit out on the sidewalk in Granada and pointed pretty accurately in the direction of our hostel. And another 30 minutes and about twenty-too-many cat calls after that, we miraculously found said hostel.

You really don’t need to know all the details of the day. It was a pretty run of the mill first day in a city. We found food, coffee, a swimming pool, and some new friends. By the end of the evening we were cheers-ing our mysterious mixed drinks and swapping all breed of stories outside the pub on the bustling Calle Calzada.

Tuesday. March 26.

For the sake of those involved I’ll leave out the details of this day except to say that we got very hot. We drank a lot of water. And two of us had to go on the great Pharmacy scavenger hunt in search of drugs prescribed by a doctor who actually couldn’t spell Sarah.

Crepes for dinner (enjoyed by all).

Nuf Said.

Wednesday. March 27.

And the real cultural adventure begins:

How to get to La Gateada, Nicaragua: Take a bus from Granada to Managua. Get off at the big blue building by the round-about. Find a taxi to El Mayoreo (No one will explain to you that this is a bus station outside of Managua. You’ll figure it out when you get there and so much more of the conversation from that morning will make sense.) Follow the random guy at the entrance to the bus and hope it’s the right one because about 5 of them say Juigalpa (which is the bigger town that is close to La Gateada.) Don’t get run over by the bus or trampled by the people trying to get on. Make sure all three of you actually make it on. Have your picture taken with a few Nicaraguans because you have blonde hair (I was exempt from that particular step.) Look at pictures of their family members. You are now best friends. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere switch buses for no apparent reason.  Continue for about 2 hours longer than you expected and try your best to ignore whichever of the following is making this ride miserable for you (The giant butts that keep stationing themselves against y our shoulder, the burning afternoon sun that keeps roasting just one of your shoulders through the window, the baby that keeps alternating between hitting you and almost crying… or any number of other possibilities. You are after all on a bus in Central America. Anything can happen). Push your way off the bus and pray as it drives away that this is actually where you are supposed to be.

It was.