San Juan del Sur

After a quick layover in Rivas and a stop at the ATM to get into the local currency (which is plastic! genius!), I hopped on a chicken bus to San Juan del Sur.  Chicken bus, you say?  Apparently these reapportioned old school buses get their name from the fact that nearly any cargo is permissible to haul on, though all my fellow passengers on this trip were firmly human.

The trip was nice - I got to see a good glimpse of the Nicaraguan countryside, including a famous island in the enormous lake Nicaragua called the Isla de Ometepe, which is made up by two narrowly connected volcanos.

   Stepping off the bus, though, I was greeted by my least favorite part of Nicaragua so far: the wind.  I had really hoped that things would be different than they were in Rivas (pretty silly, as the ride was only about 40 minutes), but I quickly gave that up.  The wind hit me full in the face as I stepped down from the bus steps, carrying dirt and sand up with it.  Sigh.  As I had done the night before and for all of that morning, I reached down and grabbed each side of my skirt in a fist, struggling to keep things modest.  You see, while packing for this trip, I had only thrown skirts into my tiny backpack.  I´m going to the beach, I thought.  Skirts will be great because they are comfortable, cool, and I´ll look presentable wherever I end up.  I did not look presentable.  I looked like a woman at war with her wardrobe.  And still do.  This area of Nicaragua is experiencing a freak windstorm of some sort which has lasted nearly a week now. I keep having people promise me that it´s going to let up tomorrow, each tomorrow that comes just brings more gusts.  The beach is an impossibility - I tried walking along the edge the first day I got here, and could think of nothing other than camels.  The wind was so hard that the sand rushed in currents across the beach, stinging as it found its way into my ears, armpits, and teeth.  Bleh.

Needless to say, it hasn´t been a picturesque beach trip.  I did luck into a great hostel though, where I´ve devoured 4 books and met lots of frustrated surfers from around the world.  Tomorrow, I´ll start my trek back into Costa Rica, having gotten just enough of a taste of this new country to want to come back.  After the storm.