Ometepe

This transit day sticks out as one of the most memorable.

We'd spent the morning, ending our affairs in Granada--checking out of the hotel, buying ferry tickets for the long ride across Lake Nicaragua, buying hammocks in the mercado for a long boat ride for another day we knew was coming.

To get our ferry tickets we went down first thing at 9am--the time we were told the office opened. No, we were mistaken, it doesn't actually open until 10. Ok, so Lisa went back after 10. No, we were mistaken, they need passports to sell ferry tickets. So I go back around 12, passports in tow and book us tickets (first class--foriegners are only allowed to ride first class) to Ometepe.

Then we battled and lost with the baggage clerk to try to carry on our luggage. No way... we even had the captain of the boat speaking with us. No go. Have to check the luggage. We weren't the only gringo's pissed about it. This one dude from some unnamed, highly efficient, European country almost bust a gasket trying to convince the captain to let him carry his fishing gear on. It was nice to have a champion fighting for our cause, but in the end, we disassociated ourselves from him because he was just too intense about it--some people really can't tolerate being told no. It's just not worth it to shout at people who aren't going to change their minds.

Anyways, we got on the boat and had a few sneaky sips from the bottle of rum we snuck on with us in our bag. Some people try to change the rules... other people just break them when they can.

Our first class seat put us on the upper deck. We had our choice of the frosty, air conditioned cabin playing a bootleg copy of 2012 or the open air deck with no chairs and a steel floor, and a fantastic view. We chose the view. I played guitar and sang and an artist from France came and sat with us and pencil-sketched me playing guitar. Nylon-stringed guitar, French being spoken on my right, the dull rumbling hum of the engine and waves below, Lisa reading her book to my left, sneaking sips of rum with our cigars--the 4 hours passed quickly.

Our first view of the twin volcano island of Ometepe was gradual. The cones revealed themselves in increments from the clouds as the sun raced them to the horizon.

We arrived that night to a horde of waiting taxi drivers all trying to charge us about 20 times more what the same ride would cost in Granada. The first taxi we got in broke down after 15 minutes of driving. The driver still wanted us to pay. We did not. We'd paired up with a young couple from Montreal and started a late night tour around the island from hotel to hotel, each one booked solid. Our mood quickly deteriorating, we finally arrived at a hotel that not only had space, was actually completely empty. Lisa saw a number of new species of jungle insect when the lights to the room were flicked on and I pretended not to understand as she described they're many manacles and antennae. We slept poorly and checked out the next day. [TBC]