Up Close and personal with Sandinistas in Nicaragua

Time constraints ( ya can´t see everything) and Lonely Planet (i.e. The Book) helped me decide to fly over Honduras and El Salvador and spend some time in Nicaragua. Flew from Guatemala City to Managua on February 26 to spend all of a week learning what I could about this country. It is the only one in Central America where the contemporary revolutionary movement led in 1979 to the overthrow of the US-backed government. But all is clearly not well in Nicaragua, despite beautiful places to visit.

Based on advice from fellow travellers I quickly passed through Managua and headed by bus to Leon, one of two colonial cities in Nicaragua. It was also the centre of the Sandinista movement during the civil war against the government and the US-backed Contras. Checked into a friendly, charming and cheap colonial hotel run by a very nice family and set out to explore a bit. First stop was the Plaza Central - focal point of most Central American cities. It was dominated by the somewhat rundown cathedral which was notable for the huge interior paintings undergoing restoration by a phalanx of conservators in white coats.

The Sandinista presence is very strong here, exempified by the revolutionary murals maintained by the City, and the memorials to the fallen, including one maintained by the mothers of dead Sandinista soldiers. All of this was quite potent in this year - the 150th anniversary of the birth of Augusto Sandino, the founder of the Nicaraguan liberation movement, who was slain by the notorious Samoza family in the early part of the century.

I visited a Sandinista museum and had a guided tour with Luis who gave me a detailed lesson in the origins of the movement and the struggle against the Contras. He noted the early successes of the first Sandinista government in establishing universal health care and broadening access to education.

After a period in opposition in the 1980s and 1990s, the Sandinistas reassumed power in 2006 again under Daniel Ortega. His popularity is waning considerably now due to some questionable decisions, widespread corruption and fraudulent municipal elections this year. These elections prompted many international governments, including the US, Sweden and the European Union, (not sure where Canada stands on this) to suspend hundreds of millions of dollars in development assistance until the elections were overturned, something Ortega has said he will not do.

So the immediate future of Nicaragua, whose people face enormous socio-economic problems, is bleak indeed. Demonstrations in 9 cities by opposition parties against the corruption, and counter demonstrations by the Government took place one day during my visit, although I was not near any of that. People fear that violence may again escalate in this troubled country.

The importance of poetry in Nicaragua culture was a surprise. I visited the home of Ruben Dario, the pre-eminent Nicaragua poet, which is now a museum. The house itself was a beautiful typical colonial Nicaraguan house with interior courtyard, covering half a city block. It is a veritable shrine to Dario where the faithful can see his original writings as well as his shoes, his bed, writing table and assorted other paraphernalia. I wonder how many Canadians would flock to see the shoes of one of our dead poets. In another converted "house" I viewed what is touted as the best collection of contemporary Latin American art in Central America - and it was impressive.

Granada was the next stop - the rival colonial city to Leon but with a decidely conservative bent. Unlike Leon, Granada has benefitted from international development largesse which has contributed to a major restoration, even rebuilding, of its colonial spendour. A UNESCO World Heritage site, it is Nicaragua´s equivalent to Antigua. Unlike Antigua, though, many of the structures destroyed through sacking or earthquakes have been rebuilt here. The colours of the buildings in the colonial centre in the early evening light is incredible. I spent about 4 full days there enjoying the relaxed pace, beautiful setting and the fine restaurants. Met up with school friends Jessica and Christian from Germany and we had good time catching up on our respective adventures.

Final stop in Nicaragua was Ometepe Island in Lake Managua, which I planned to give a full day and night before moving into Costa Rica. It is dubbed a "fantasy island" by "The Book" because of the two active volcanoes on the island and the relaxed rural life on Ometepe. However, a fantasy it was not, in my case, although beautiful it was.

Ometepe proved more of an adventure than I counted on. It began with one of the worst boat rides I have ever experienced, compliments of a 30-foot wooden launcha that heaved and lurched in the high winds throughout the 3 hour crossing to the Island. I saw many of the Nicaraguans on board cross themselves and take out their rosaries. Before long, despite the entreaties, many were heading for the sides of the boat to make their offerings to Lake Managua.

Eventually we made it across and my two travelling companions at the time, Alessandro from Italy/Japan and Greg from Australia, joined me in a cab to tour the island and bring me to my hotel. The others were returning to Granada for the night, via the wretched boat, much to their chagrin. The island is inded beautiful and domestic animals seem the most content, wandering freely on the roads, on beaches and wherever else they decide to hang out. And peole are relaxed and very friendly and helpfuil. These two boys helped me find directions on their way home from school.

To see more of the island and seek out the ancient petroglyphs with native carvings on them, I rented a mountain bike for the afternoon. Had a good time despite the high winds that continued throughout the day and the fact that I was the only guest in the hotel. Everyone here was bemoaning drop in tourism this year due to the economy.

For dinner, I was directed to Finca El Zopilote, a local organic farm, which was having pizza night that evening. With shaky directions and my flashlight I managed to find the finca, down a road and up a path through the banana plantation etc. etc. I knew I was getting close when I heard the guitars playing and could see the lights around the outdoor wood burning pizza oven. The finca turned out to be an organic farm that provides free or reduced accommodation to travellers in return for work on the farm. A group of 50 or so people were sitting around in the grass or on the rocks eating the pizza made with ingredients from the farm, drinking beer, chatting and listening to the transcient musicians. I think I stumbled on a latter day Woodstock in this remote corner of Nicaragua. Chatted with a few friendly folks from Australia, US and Canada, ate my cooked-to-order pizza and made my way back to my hotel.

Plan for next day was to get up at 4:00am to catch local bus to boat terminal on other side of the island in time for 6:00am bus. But alas it was not to be. Slept through my 4:00am alarm, but by a combination of buses and a taxi over the horrendously rutted roads, I made it to the terminal in time to board the steel-hulled ferry for the 9:00am crossing. But by 10:00 am, with no sign of movement, even the laid-back Nicaraguans were starting to wonder what was happening. Finally, we were told to leave the boat and board the identical one alongside, which all hundred or so passengers obediently did. And then we sat. By 11:00 or so we were told that due to the high winds the boat would not be given clearance to cross the Lake by the military officials who rule on these things. We disembarked again and for the next 5 hours sat at the terminal or walked around the town awaiting word that the boat was crossing. Meanwhile, more and more people, including several tour groups, piled up at the terminal. Finally by 4:00pm word spread that the boat would be leaving. When I saw an ambulance pull up and a medical patient board I followed quickly, thinking that this boat is leaving and I do not want to be left behind.

Hurrah! We successfully crossed the lake despite continued high winds and, realizing that it was not a good idea to try to cross the border into Costa Rica at night, found a place to stay in the decidedly untouristy town of Rivas, Nicaragua. There I ended March 4 with a fine Nicaraguan meal coooked by the matriarch of Casa Lydia. Evening entertainment consisted of listening to the tales of triumph and woe of a former Texas oil man now living in Costa Rica, who leaves Costa Rica every three months in order to renew his visa.

So my brief but eventful Nicaraguan experience came to an end the next morning when I got the last seat on the TICA bus out of Rivas to San Jose, Costa Rica. The border crossing was interesting as there were 2 processes, the first at the Nicaragua border, where we paid an exit tax. The second was at the Costa Rica entry point, 1 kilometre away across "no person´s land", where passports were stamped, more money changed hands, and luggage was scrutinized by border officials. The whole process took about one and a half hours and then we (me and some Americans I had met) were on our way in Costa Rica.