Travel – Page 5 – Ian Louis Harris

Nicaragua, Morgan’s Rock to Mukul, 16 February 2016

Today we transfer at noon, so no need for an early start, but still we are up early packing our things. Packing is a bigger deal for Daisy than it is for me, so I also have time to sit on our lovely Morgan’s Rock sun deck and do some more reading before breakfast…and indeed after breakfast before we leave.

We are to be taken by boat, which sounds like a most convoluted process, with three boats involved, but apparently it takes only 30 minutes compared with an hour or so by road.

When we arrived at Morgan’s Rock, we were told that our boat transfer would probably not be possible, as the Nicaraguan Navy had suspended sea transfers due to the strong winds. Readers who know me well will realise that this news was not bad news to me, as I am always a reluctant sailor.

So I was not overjoyed yesterday when we were told that permission for boat transfers had been reinstated. We even tried hinting that road was fine for us and that perhaps, with all our heavy luggage, road would be easier for all concerned, but we were assured that boat was the better option when possible.

So, the baggage carriers shlep our bags down to the beach, we get into a little boat with all the luggage, the team (with great difficulty, assisted by some French holiday makers) push us out far enough for the engine to start and we (and our luggage) rapidly join a bigger boat operated by Carlos. So far, so slick.

There’s a nice shady canopy on Carlos’ boat, which is just as well because this is the hottest part of the day.

Daisy quite likes boats and is in her element for this short ride. I sing La Bamba to while away the time, placing special emphasis on the line, “yo no soy marinero”. Carlos, who speaks no English and now assumes that I speak some Spanish, asks if I am a Mexican. I try to explain in broken Spanglish that I am neither a Mexican, nor a Spanish speaker…nor a sailor.

Carlos points out the place where the trans-Nicaragua canal is due to exit into the Pacific, although we subsequently learn that the powerful Pellas family, owners of Mukul and far more besides, have probably got their way to have the canal mouth located a fair bit further away from their fifedom of natural beauty.

We get to within a few dozen meters of the Mukul beach. There is no sign of the amphibious vehicle that we expect to shuttle us to the shore. Then, ominously, the lifeguard swims towards us to speak with Carlos:

My inadequate Spanish gleaned little, except that we were basically being told, “five minutes”. “Cinco minutos”, said Carlos, “tranquilo”?

“Tranquilo”, I said. Five minutes is not long. Obviously the vehicle is a little delayed, that’s all.

Ten minutes later, more ominously, the swimmer returns. I note that he seems to need far more swimming effort to get to us than he did to get away from us, which gives me some small comfort that tide and wind are in our favour; eastwards towards the shore and that enticing looking resort and beach.

Due west, of course, there’s nothing between us and the Philippines for about 15,000 kilometers, apart from an outside chance of a tiny Micronesian atoll. 15,000 kilometers; that’s almost three times the distance between London and New York. Have pity, dear reader, these types of thoughts pass through the overactive mind of a nervous sailor when all at sea.

The Spanish conversation went on for longer this time, but the bit I understood was the notion of ten minutes. “Diez minutos”, said Carlos with his mouth and digits, “tranquilo”? “Tranquilo”, said Daisy, sensing that I probably didn’t have it in me to say that word again, as I was becoming a little untranquilo.

Frankly, I could have coped fine with ten more minutes if I knew it really would be ten, but by now I was really worrying about how the co-ordination of the transfer could have gone so badly wrong and therefore how long it might really take them to sort things out.

The increasing breeze added to my nerves. As did my thought that we had not donned life jackets on this boat (nor indeed the first boat). When we went on short rides to and from Jicaro, on the paddling pool that is Lake Nicaragua, we were made to don life jackets every time, as a requirement of the Nicaraguan Navy. Given that we were never much more than 150 meters away from the nearest islet, that requirement had seemed excessive there. How come this safety requirement was absent (or flauted) on the fierce and mighty ocean that is the Pacific, with winds on the borderline between sailing being permitted or prohibited and 15,000 kilometers of open ocean between us and the Philippines?

By the time an hour or so had passed, my unease had turned to something a bit closer to panic. Suffice it to say that my Ultimate Travel document wallet has teeth marks that would have enabled the recovery investigators to identify me from dental records in the absence of my carcass.

Carlos had been in telephone contact with Morgan’s Rock, but seemed reluctant to let us speak to anyone, unable to understand some fairly obvious international words such as “te-le-fon” and sign language. To be fair, he was probably being sold the same, “someone will be there soon” line of bullshit that he was feeding back to us, along with an instruction to “keep us tranquilo”, which was becoming increasingly difficult in my case, in the absence of tranquilo-isers.

Looking and feeling more than a little Moby Dick

Janie was very calm; irritatingly calm. I decided that some female panic was needed to change the dynamic and add some urgency. So I said, “if we aren’t off this boat in five minutes, I’m going to jump in the water and swim to shore.” This was, of course, an empty threat. Our passports were in my pockets, along with my wallet and credit cards. Anyone who knows me well knows that I would not place at risk nor would I readily abandon on the boat such important and beloved items. Nor would I abandon Janie on the boat, now I come to think of it.

Moreover, one of the few things I know about boats is that in almost all emergency circumstances, the safest thing to do is to remain with the boat and await orders from the skipper. That advice is on the back of a postage stamp, coincidentally in my aforementioned wallet. The inscribed postage stamp is there for the very rare occasions I have needed to substitute for Michael Mainelli as host for Z/Yen boat trips on Michael’s Thames sailing barge, Lady Daphne. I wrote memory joggers for the information and safety messages on the back of a stamp, so I could honestly say to the guests, “any further questions, ask the skipper, not me. What I know about boats can be written on the back of a postage stamp. Here’s the stamp.”

Yo no soy marinero. Yo no soy capitan.

No, I had no intention of actually jumping ship. But I did get a reaction from Janie, then a more furtive interaction going between Janie and Carlos, which at least got him onto his phone again.

Whether my near-mutiny made any difference we’ll never know, but within five minutes of my “jump” threat we were “rescued” by a small, completely uncovered boat, some 75 minutes after we arrived off the shore of Mukul. That boat took us (and our luggage, but no life jackets) several kilometers back towards Morgan’s Rock, to another bay where a vehicle awaited us and drove us the last few kilometers to Mukul.

There we were greeted by Frederico, the general manager, with whom we agreed that now was not the time for a metaphorical post mortem on the shambles, merely for relief that no actual post mortem was needed. So we calmed down, cooled down, oriented, checked in and started our blissful week of rest at Mukul.

Nicaragua, Eco Logical? – An Aside, 16 February 2016

Before continuing the tale of our travels, a brief aside on eco lodges and our experiences.

We’ve now stayed in two this holiday, Jicaro and Morgan’s Rock. We’ve stayed in a few over the years, though none recently until this holiday.

We’ve always been a bit cynical and sceptical about eco-tourism. After all; there’s nothing very eco-friendly about tourism and something a bit cheesy about hectoring notices in hotels imploring the traveller to help save the planet by accepting fewer bedding and towel changes. as much as anything else, such requests seem to us to do more for hotel’s profits than for the planet.

Indeed, our previous experience of eco lodges; often with a do-goody vibe and everyone eat around the table together like scouts, had for years put us off the idea of staying anywhere boasting that term.

The term “barefoot luxury” is a similar turn off for us; too often an excuse for ludicrously high prices and ludicrously little to show for the money – more like barefaced larceny. But I digress.

The two Nicaraguan eco lodges we tried, Jicaro and Morgan’s Rock, were both way ahead of our eco lodge experiences of the past. Both have been designed to have a minimally invasive impact on their natural environments and maximum positive impact on local communities, all of which we applaud. In particular, Jicaro struck the right notes for us in almost every respect.

The Morgan’s Rock blurb was a little more old-school eco-preachy. Are you really setting standards of pre-emminence in eco-tourism by feeding all the hotel’s food waste to the animals on your massive hacienda? I seem to recall staying on a farm when I was a nipper (before ecology had even been invented) and learning that such behaviour is simply what all sensible farmers do.

Morgan’s Rock does get one huge tick in the box from me for its superb-sounding extensive programme of slow-growth hardwood forest farming and stewardship. This is very hard to achieve both sustainably and commercially, yet the owners seem to be finding a way, which is laudable and I hope replicable elsewhere.

Both properties fall down in my view on their approach to drinking water. The idea is to avoid lots of plastic bottles – good idea. The Jicaro approach was to invest in a treatment works for the local water and to assure visitors it is safe to drink. It probably was “safe” in a clinical sense, but it tasted funny and my tummy was not quite right during our stay there. I drink a lot of water and it reminded me of the way my tummy used to be in the old “water purification tablets” days of my travelling youth.

The Morgan’s Rock blurb suggseted that their drinking water approach was the same as that at Jicaro, but when I asked about it soon after arrival (I really didn’t fancy another icky three days) was assured that the water in the room was actually Fuente Pura mineral water poured into large serving flagons from giant bottles. I’m not sure how much better that approach is than smaller bottles, especially as, presumably, large quantities of that water are wasted when the flagons are emptied. Either that or unsealed mineral water is sitting around in flagons for an unhealthy period of time before being topped up and drunk.

I realise that all of these hygiene, comfort, convenience and ecology issues make it difficult to get the balance right, but I’m not sure about either approach we encountered this time.

But the big thumbs down award for ecological correctness gone mad goes to Morgan’s Rock, for the following sign placed beside the toilet:

In case you cannot read it, the sign asks the user of the tolet to place their used toilet paper in the bin rather than in the toilet, as the water is treated for reuse. We find it hard to imagine a much more unhygenic suggestion. Perhaps “share intravenous drug needles to reduce depletion of earth metals and thus help save the planet?”

Daisy and I went into civil disobedience mode immediately at the toilet paper suggestion and did what we considered to be the right thing. (No we did not smear anything on the walls. We simply flushed our used toilet paper.)

When I raised the delicate toilet paper matter on departure, the front desk manager nodded sagely, assured me that a bit of paper down the toilet would not mess up their treatment works and confessed that many of the staff don’t like those signs as so many guests remark about them adversely. You don’t say?

Nicaragua, Morgan’s Rock, 15 February 2016

We rose early today, as we have arranged our bird walk for 6:30 this morning. Our guide for this activity is Bismarck, who tells us that his birth certificate says “Bismar”because the registrar missed the end of his name by mistake.

We start our walk on the beach, where the first “life” we encounter is actually a stone dead iguana on the beach with no evident signs indicating cause of death. Bismarck suggests murder by a bigger animal but given the absence of visible clues we suspect human poisoning.

Soon we are at the estuary water where a fair amount of interesting bird life is to be seen. Daisy makes copious notes of all the species while bemoaning the absence of a helpful Morgan’s Rock bird leaflet along Jicaro leaflet lines. Most of these water birds are small and therefore not photogenic with our little cameras.

Then we start to walk through the estate forest, where we see more lovely birds – some quite colourful but again mostly small. It was a lovely walk. Ironically, the highlight of our bird walk was actually a really good sighting of a group of spider monkeys. These are usually far more shy than howlers, but I think this group were so enjoying their tamarind tree breakfast that they were willing to hang/swing around for us. It was only when a vehicle came along the trail that they really cleared off.

We took a short cut through the forest proper, perhaps because we had dawdled so much earlier in the walk or perhaps in a vain attempt to find the rarely-seen toucan.

Towards the end of the walk we encountered the mother and child sloths again; still on the same tree. If you think some bits of my diary/blog can be a bit dull, imagine the equivalent blog for a two-toed sloth…

14 February, sat in tree all day, munched a little, slept a lot;
15 February, sat in same tree all day;
16 February – big day – moved to the next tree. This tree will do us for the next few days…

…actually don’t knock the sloth thing, folks. We’re planning our days at Mukul to be sloth-like in the main.

We took a late breakfast. Waitress Gabriella seems to have caught young Master Coffee’s cough. We then retreated to our bungalow where we pretty much did the sloath thing for the rest of the day. I got through most of my magazine backlog and Janie read most of the interesting Nicaragua book.

Again we went down at 8:00ish for dinner. Initially we were pleased to see that the menu had changed; but dinner actually turned out to be a shower this evening. My crab soup was a tiny bowl of sugar-water with a slight taste of crab, some small chunks of vegetable and a whole, tiny, hard-shelled crab (a little reminiscent of our land crab friends from the room) which was impossible to eat. The mains took an age to arrive. When they did arrive, mine was not the dish I had ordered and came without any vegetables, let alone the vegetables I had specifically ordered. Daisy ate her main while I waited (let’s not pretend patiently) for my order. The food was all dry and ordinary with the sauce in pots on the side. Different “chef” who brought my replacement main himself to apologise for the mistake. Daisy tried a tres leches desert and I tried rice pudding (very sweet and ordinary) for some small comfort. Still, overall the worst meal we’ve had in Nicaragua and that’s in the face of some proper competition.

Daisy’s overall (and kindly) observation is that there has been no manager to be seen while we’ve been here at Morgan’s Rock and that you cannot expect much from the local staff, who are sweet and trying (in several senses of the latter word), when unmanaged.

We’re not sorry we’re moving on tomorrow and hope for better things in Mukul.

Nicaragua, Morgan’s Rock, 14 February 2016

Well, it seems the evening maids really did remove the worrying wasp-like thing from our room last night, together with a land crab, leaving only a large spider on the wall beside the toilet to keep us company. The spider is set to be a feature for the whole stay.

We enjoy making our own coffee in the room early and toddle down for a late breakfast. It seems that early breakfast is more the norm here – only one other couple late and they finish before us. Some kids are already splashing around in the pool by that hour (c9:30). I name one noisy American family “The Coffee Family”, by virtue of one of their kid’s unmitigated coughing. The lack of mitigation extends to the absence of hand or hankerchief in the coughing process. Worse still; the Coffees are in the next door villa to us. We decide that the pool is probably not for us.

Don’t ask where the first half of the day went. We both did some reading I suppose. We found a very nice semi-shady place in the garden away from the pool, which was fine for a while. Charlie collared us and asked when we’d like to eat tonight; I guess they try to stagger the guests and arrange the maid evening service. I noticed that the Coffee Family had opted for a 6:30 dinner, so I suggested 8:00 for us.

Soon we realised that the beauty of our own shady terrace would be great in that middle part of the day, ahead of our 15:00 hacienda tour.

Our guide for the hacienda tour was Herlon and our driver Eddy. The latter seemed better at spotting the fauna, even though he was driving at the same time. Both were good guides, in fact. We saw some birds, quite a few howler monkeys, a capuchin monkey so much in the distance you’ll have to take our word for it because the dot on the photo is unrecognisable and some two-toed sloths, who resolutely refuse to show us their faces.

Daisy was especially excited when we saw three macaws at the chicken and cow farm section of the estate. These birds have been introduced on the estate – they are not indigenous to the area, but they live wild and we had only ever seen a macaw in a cage before (in Guatemala all those years ago).

We also saw a viewing point from which we took a couple of good pictures and ran into Charlie with an American named Mr Mike on horseback. Then on to see the shrimp farm and a sighting of a mother and child two-toed sloth at the end of the tour; I am hoping they’ll still be in that tree when we walk that part of the trail tomorrow morning.

Home in time to shower and get ready for dinner before dark and implement my master plan for the evening; avoiding the sound and trajectory of young Master Coffee’s coughing by taking dinner relatively late. We hear the Coffee family leave for dinner, as arranged, at 6:30 (a door banging and then an absence of coughing). We sit out on our lovely terrace in the breeze, reading. We hear the return of young Master Coffee at about 7:40 (a door banging and then the presence of coughing). The master plan surely has worked.

Five minutes later, we have both finished our reading and we decide to go down to dinner a little earlier than announced, confident that our mission has been accomplished.

Daisy choses a recently vacated table right at the front of the restaurant and the waiters hurriedly start making up the table for her…but…horror of horrors…right next to us is the Coffee family complete with young Master Coffee coughing away with abandon. He must have simply returned to his room briefly to get something a few minutes ago when we heard him coughing. I suggest that the front table is a little too breezy, so we retreat to a table towards the back of the restaurant. In fact, not much more than five minutes later, both of the Coffee children go off to their bungalow leaving mum and dad behind.

I have a salad starter with cherry tomatoes, asparagus and avocado (Daisy takes a little of mine but has no starter herself). I then have the chef’s special seafood pasta, while Daisy has curried shrimp with mash and zuccini. We both try the Nicaraguan trio of deserts; I liked both cake things but not really the fried cassava thingie in syrup. I have a glass of chilean sauvignon blanc and Daisy finished off the bottle of pinot noir, with a little help from yours truly.

Nicaragua, Jicaro to Morgan’s Rock via Mombacho, 13 February 2016

An early start this morning, as we have an 8:45 boat to meet our guides and transfer. Our 6:30 coffee comes with the spice cake again – hurrah. We finish our packing and take quite a light breakfast; smoothies again (those are good) and a banana pancake (which seems more like a bun) for me, while Daisy just has toast and banana.

We say goodbye to Jicaro and 15 minutes later are greeted by Edgar and David at the Bahia de Asese and off we go to Mombacho Nature Reserve; the top of the same volcano we explored lower down yesterday.

Soon three of us (leaving Edgar behind with our vehicle and baggage) transfer into a vehicle I can only describe as a decommissioned miltary-style mass transit truck or bus, which didn’t please me at all as we had been led to expect a private vehicle. This truck thing was incredibly uncomfortable too. David promised to try and arrange something better for our downward journey.

After a couple of minutes to take water and gather ourselves (in truth, for me to gather myself), we set off on our hike.

Not as atmospheric as the lower plantation walk; also more touristic, but there are some beautiful vistas up top and some geological features such as hot holes and a wonderful crevice to walk through and see some craters. Very little wildlife or bird life, which was a bit disappointing, but several species of orchids to keep Daisy happy.

David and Edgar arrange for a private park ranger vehicle going down, which also includes a stop at a small coffee plantation. Down the bottom we see some zip liners before heading off towards Rivas.

On the Pan-American highway, just after Rivas (where we get some surprisingly good local chocolate) we see a couple of howler monkeys on the roadside. Then a little further down a whole colony of howlers. They show off for the cameras.

Then to Morgan’s Rock, where Charlie shows us around and introduces us to several members of his family. They are Caribbean-side Nicas – the first we’ve met.

We choose some light touring for the next couple of days and take a fine dinner comprising chicken and meatball soup for me, celery soup for Daisy, surf and turf special main for both of us and a rum cake desert for both of us too. A nice Chilean Pinot Noir washed that down and might help us to forget about the bugs we’ve seen in our room.

Nicaragua, Jicaro, 12 February 2016

We rise early today, as we have our walk/hike through the plantations at the foot of Mombacho, arranged for an early start to avoid the heat.

We are brought coffee and a delicious spice cake in our casita at 6:30, then go down for breakfast at about 7:20. Or rather, I go down and order a simple breakfast for both of us. Smoothies for both, yoghurt, fruit and granola for Daisy, oatmeal for me.

Even then, we find it hard to get away bang on 8:00 but I think we really are away by 8:15. Our guide is Eduardo,who actually works at the resort.

We start off by looking at the lagoon, which is warmed by hot springs. Then we go for a short hike through the dense woods below the cloud forest around to the other side of the lagoon. We see termite nests, birds (but far fewer than on the water) and some amazing butterflys. We also see a large rodent, aguote, that Eduardo assures us tastes delicious; like a cross between rabbit and pork. It’s just as well we are walking this trail quite early; it must get well steamy in the hottest part of the day.

On the other side we can see the hot springy part of the lagoon and sense that the water is incredibly hot. People swim and kayak there at times, but currently the water is too hot for swimming and too shallow for kayaking. The fault of El Nino, we are told.

We meet some of the farmer’s security folk down there with guns and machetes. We don’t argue with them. Nor, mercifully, do they seem to want to argue with us. Eduardo explains that we are invited and welcome visitors. They give him some alternative trail advice for future reference.

Then we head uphill a bit, towards the plantain and cocoa plantations. This uphill bit is the hardest part of the walk, especially where there are long stretches without shade, but it is all beautiful.

We see the plantations, then hike back down, with some difficulty as the stony trail seems a bit more slippery when you are hiking down it. A good discussion about Nicaragua’s revolutionary history and remaining political problems makes that part of the hike pass quickly. Then a celebratory soft drink while waiting for our boat in a shady pavilion at the end of the walk.

It was a super hike; not quite as photogenic as the boat trip but in many ways more atmospheric and wonderfully peaceful.

Back early enough to shower and take lunch; I started with a chayote greek salad while Daisy started with a red bean hummus. Then Daisy had the Jicaro burger (which was basically a cheeseburger) while I tried some garlic prawn tacos. Good shrimp, as everyone seems to say about Nicaragua.

Then a restful afternoon; short siesta, writing, playing with photos and reading.

Dinner comprised:

carrot soup for Daisy;
quesillo (a type of cheese) tortilla with sour cream for me;
Spicy shrimps with brown rice for Daisy;
Fish (I had asked for guacote, which I think it was, as it was earthy, but I was told it was tilapia again);
chocolate cake for Daisy, passion fruit sorbet for/me.

We were both tired and ready to sleep early.

Nicaragua, Jicaro, 11 February 2016

We have opted for a mostly relaxing day today, with just a bird-watching boat trip late afternoon. It dawns on me at dawn that the volcano hike I booked, for tomorrow, sounds eerily familiar; indeed when I check our itinerary I realise that we are being taken on that walk as part of our transfer to Morgan’s Rock on Saturday. Five minutes at the reception/activities desk and it is no problem to switch to a plantation hike/walk for Friday instead.

Meanwhile Daisy toys with the idea of joining the 8:00 yoga class…and then decides that an earlier breakfast is a more enticing idea. Daisy had an omelette while Ged, feeling just a little icky, had a variation on French toast. We both had some crispy bacon on the side.

We relax by the pool after breakfast; everyone else seems to be checking out or off doing morning activities, so we really have the place to ourselves all morning. It is easy to find sunny and shady spots; from around 10:30 shady is the order of the day. Good chance to read, drink some king coconut water and generally rest up.

We weren’t very hungry for lunch, but managd to force down some gazpachio soup (cucumber in my case, tomato in Daisy’s) followed by a small plate of vigaron (pork with yukka) for Daisy and a chicken sandwich thing for me. Then a short siesta before our bird boat tour.

The bird boat tour around the islets was a real highlight – even my dislike of boats was mitigated by the extraordinary sight of so many exotic birds in those wetlands and the lake, I’ll upload some photos, a link to many photos and a scan of the birdie leaflet when we get home.

Returned to dry land at sundown to shower and get ready for dinner. Dinner was excellent again:

crab soup with great chunks of fish for me;
Daisy can’t remember hers but it will probably come back to her – ah yes, a review of the menu reminds her that she had an eggplant parmesan thingie (normally a veggie main) as a starter-sized portion;
Daisy followed with a tasty chicken leg dish in a sort of caramilised rum sauce;
I had a spare rib dish, the pork had a sort of guava-based glaze;
I ended the meal with a sorbet, while Daisy declined.

Another very enjoyable day draws to its inevitable end.

Nicaragua, Leon to Jicaro via Granada, 10 February 2016

We rise and take breakfast a little earlier today, as Guillermo is due at 8:30 to take us touring and on to our next destination. Similar breakfast to previous days, with some convention delegates around us, replacing the large US tour from the previous couple of days.

Guillermo rings up before 8:00, which we try not to let faze us; in any case we are both ready around about 8:30, by which time I have chatted with Guillermo and also with Edgar and David who are there for other guests today.

First stop; a primary school just outside Leon where we meet teachers, the principal and of course loads of kids. There are just about enough pens to go around here; one per kid. Guillermo is involved with a charity, World Challenge, that has worked with this school before and he knows they need the pens!

Then a long drive to Masaya, a very pretty, colourful little town but what turns out to be an uber-touristic market. On the outskirts of town (before we reach the market) we stop at a viewing point for Laguna de Masaya and see vultures and also a Panamanian hostel proprietor, ex US military, on vacation himself. We see him again at the market and we debate who is following whom around. I defer to his judgment that we are following him around on the grounds that he’s much bigger than me and ex military. He says that I made a wise decision.

The market temporarily spoils my mood, as does the next viewing point in the “”white village”” of Catarina, overlooking Laguna de Apoyo, with its cafe touts and very touristic atmosphere. We (Janie, me, Guillermo) quickly take juice, Coke and lemonade respectively up there after seeing and photographing the view.

Then on to San Juan de Oriente, a very pretty village with beautiful nurseries which we view and photograph from a distance. We stop at a traditional pottery-making outfit and watch the son of the potter, who claims to be no use at pottery, start to make a pot. The master potter turns up towards the end and we buy some little nick-nack ceramic bird-whistle things for little Penny.

Then on to Granada, where we start at Le Merced but cannot climb the tower because it is closed, then on to and through some other historic buildings and round to the cathedral, where we see the new ceiling paintings being done, then (although we are pretty churched-out by now) on to El Convento San Fransisco where again (perhaps mercifully) almost everything is closed. Guillermo seems upset for us, despite our insistence that we really don’t mind. Perhaps he is upset for our souls.

Then we get hold of the final CD for my collection; to include some Nicaraguan/Carribean style music, in particular Dimension Costena, which Guillermo manages to source on the street for us. Then we stock up with water and down to the pier (or, as it turns out, the marina) to pick up our boat transfer to Jicaro Lodge and say goodbye to Guillermo.

We meet a quartet of young Americans on the boat; it seems that Jicaro is mostly populated with those (judging also by the friendly youngsters who greet us around the pool) so our role is to bring up the average age of the clientele and add a little English class to this English-owned property, not least through the dulcet tones of Benjy, my baritone ukulele, of course.

Jicaro looks lovely – Nubia spends about 45 minutes orienting us and we choose our sumptuous-sounding dinner. Sumptuous indeed it was:

chayote (a “cucumber-like thing” but with more flavour – transpires it is actually a water squash) & papaya salad with lime, dried fruit and mint starter for me;
fresh watermmelon with feta, balsemic and basil starter for Daisy;
baked tilapia with rice and vegetables for me;
seared red snapper with papaya and grapefruit compote with brown rice and vegetables for Daisy;
chocolate cake thingie for Daisy;
frozen banana with chocolate and cashew for me;
all washed down with a fine organic biowhateveryoucallit sauvignon blanc wine.

I give Benjy a good go, for a while before dinner and then a longer thrash afterwards, by the end of which Daisy has long since gone to bed.

Nicaragua, Leon, 9 February 2016

I was up earlier than Daisy again this morning and brought Ogblog up to date. While doing so I realised that my hat was missing and concluded that I must have left it in Cafe Taquezal. I’m making a habit of abandoning that battered old hat temporarily these days – must be a sign but I was hoping to get it back for a while longer – it makes a good talking point on this holiday.

I try some cornflakes this morning rather than the yoghurt, but the milk has a similar unreal taste to the yoghurt – perhaps they have milk fortification regulations here that make all dairy products taste that way. Toast and bacon was an improvement on the pastry things. Janie stuck with that from the previous day. The orange juice is very good here, btw.

We have a free day in Leon today and fancy only a light bit of touring. We go across to the next block to the Ortiz-Guardian Foundation gallery/museaum. Despite the proximity of this visit and my enviable track record as a guide, Daisy still stops on the way to ask directions from a bemused fellow who speaks no English and doesn’t seem to know where museums are in any language.

We get to see a Joan Miro exhibition and also the Ortiz-Guardian’s fine collection of Praxis Movement and other modern Latin American artists’ works. There was also some seriously old stuff of the religious iconography kind, which we walked through swiftly. Daisy noticed that the Ortiz family seems to have styled the garden of the convent hotel on the style of their old house complex, which this museum presumably is.

Next stop; again just a block or so away, the Ruben Dario Museum. Daisy wants to photograph me reading my Ruben Dario book in the inner courtyard, which takes a while to stage manage.

At one point Daisy complains that the signs are all in Spanish so she dosn’t understand, at which point I try to help by pointing out pictures of his two wives and explaining the story of his marriages. “Are you making this up?”, asks Daisy, perhaps unable to imagine that I might have actually taken in the stuff I read about Dario’s life in that book. I shouldn’t have dignified that remark with a reply, but I did.

Next we continue the search for CDs, by stopping at a musical instrument shop where a very helpful fellow takes great pains to show on a map and via Google traslate where a good possible source is located; near the Cathedral, where we are heading anyway.

Next stop, El Sesteo, where we take some refreshment (Coke Zero in my case, Carrot and Orange juice in Daisy”s case) and conclude that this place really does offer the homely local dishes we want to try, so we shall indeed return here tonight.

Then on to our hot lead for CDs, where we have certainly scored to some extent, not least because the CDs are so cheap. I buy four and we can see if Guillermo can help add to my collection tomorrow; I don’t think the Caribbean side’s musical tradition is much represented on the four I have bought. But we shall find out what Elvis Crespo sounds like, which is important.

Then round to Cafe Taquezal, where an inquisitive gesticulation towards my head soon leads to recognition and the production of my battered old sombrero. Sweet success.

We could have come straight home, but I suggested a quick look at an artesenal shop we passed near the Ruben Dario Museum which might have a suitable little ornament for Mandy White’s sand pit (long story). This proves to be a relatively expensive suggestion on my part, as Daisy spots some rather beautiful and well-made occasonal dishes, which should make nice gifts.

Then back to the hotel, for some beer and nuts. I earn my right to those after working out how to use the lightening adapter thingie to import our photos onto Daisy’s iPad, which is a jolly good way of looking at the pictures on a decent-sized screen, although perhaps not an ideal method for uploading pictures to Ogblog and making sure they look the right way around on all devices – we’ll live and learn.

Then we both feel sleepy so decide to take a siesta – Daisy clearly in more need than me as she has slept on long enough to enable me to write up the day so far and more besides.

Indeed, Daisy turns out to be so sleepy that I need to wake her up in order to have any chance of getting some dinner. She claims she is now refreshed and busily gets ready to go out for dinner. “Don’t let me forget my hat”, I say as we set off. “Do you really need that thing this evening?” asks Daisy. She has a point, unlike the hat which has a hole where the point should be.

So it is off to El Sesteo, where we try three massive dishes of local fare – nacatamales (a sort-of Nicaraguan pork and chicken cholent), a variation on vigoron (pork with yucca) and a mixed plate of shredded pork, rice, plantain etc. which I think is designed to give tourists a low-risk try of several tasty local things. It was all very enjoyable and of course far too much food.

A little boy hangs around, almost discreetly, outside the restaurant near our table. Daisy wonders whether we should give him some of the food. I wonder whether the restaurant would approve of that. Daisy asks a waitress, so after getting the nod she makes up a little food parcel for the kid before we send our plates back. The kid thanks her politely and skulks away to eat alone in a cat-like fashion.

Two glasses of wine, water, more food than we could possibly eat for $25, including a healthy tip which seems to please the staff. Great to try, but we won’t be rushing to try those local dishes again.

We get home, Daisy more or less immediately puts herself to bed despite her long afternoon sleep, but before dropping off says, “where’s your hat?” I suggest that she forgot to remind me; Daisy suggests that my stupid hat is my own stupid responsibility. She has a point again.

I offer to return to the restaurant alone, but Daisy insists that she is not letting me out of her sight. I wonder whether she is worried about me falling foul of the pretty Nicaraguan university student girls, but she says she thinks the greater risk is me falling badly in one of the copious potholes in the Leon pavements.

Anyway, it is but a short walk and of course, yet again, my hat is still there.

Nicaragua, Leon, 8 February 2016

Rose early (still a bit in lag mode), I wrote up Ogblog some more and fidded around charging up devices etc. We took an early breakfast. Daisy had bacon and eggs. I tried pastry things that are a little difficult to describe. Think infeasibly thick, heavy pastry, possibly the early efforts of a child and you are imagining along the right lines.

I read some Ruben Dario and also had a short go with Benjy (the bariton ukulele) as we had so much time before guide was due to arrive; pretty pleased with the results of putting pdfs onto the Kindle Fire for the ukulele purpose.

Our guide was named Danny Morales; very young and eager. He explained our itinerary. We were already aware that some of the smaller sights would be closed on a Monday, but he at least oriented us so we can go to those on our own tomorrow.

We started in Parque Central, looking at the various buildings, the Gigantona (gigantic facsimile of a Spanish girl) and especially the Cathedral of Leon, aka the Basilica de la Asuncion.

This is an enormous church, the largest in Central America. There was a mass in progress as we went in; the use of guitar as the accompaniment to the singing gave the service an immediate Latin feel. We saw all the bits you are supposed to see, such as the Black Jesus and the tomb of Ruben Dario, then climbed up to the roof and explored that strange construction barefoot, taking in the vistas and taking many photographs.

After the Cathedral, a few short steps to the market, primarily a food market, which was wonderfully photogenic and about as friendly as you’ll find anywhere. We treated ourselves to some king coconut water at the end of that bit; Danny tellingly lugged the coconuts around with him for the rest of the day.

We then looked at some murals depicting the Nicaraguan struggle. After finding and buying a clutch of just the right type of bandannas in the Parque Central, we then visited the rather depressing Museo de la Revolucion, where we met some of the FSLN vets.

By this stage Daisy was getting quite hot and bothered with it all, but we persuaded her to progress to our next stop; Al Carbon restaurant, where the definition of a light lunch turned out to be a huge platter of meats served with some beans, taters and fried plantain thingies.

Danny then went off to get what we thought was a driver but in fact was a car under his charge for the rest of the day.

Our next stop was an art school in the Sutiava district, where we got to try our hands at “carpet making”; a local art form using dyed sawdust to make artworks on the ground ahead of a procession which will then destroy the works. Traditionally these pictures are religious and fairly classic-looking in nature, but Daisy and I went uber-modern for our effort. I tried to get away with it by naming the piece “madonna and child”; indeed if you look carefully at pictures of our seemingly abstract effort, you can distinctly see all the religious faces, bodies and symbols required for that name to be utterly appropriate. Or perhaps you can see an image of me kissing Daisy at the bottom of the work. We eagerly await notification that our masterpiece has won a prize.

One of the art school boys then offered me the chance to play his guitar, which was quite a stretch from the baritone ukulele, but I managed to bash out all three chords of First Cut Is The Deepest and then La Bamba, the latter enabling the youngsters to join in. Funny that.

We were supposed to then see the house where they make the Gigantona, but when we got there we discovered that the man of the house is sick and it was all closed up. Instead, Danny took us to Radio Shack as I was keen to acquire some adapters for these US sockets (success) and also in search of some good music CDs (failure).

Back to the hotel for a while; Daisy was so tired she wanted to skip the evening, but I suggested she fight the lag by coming out again. We had hoped for some Gigantona/street parade action around central parque but it was all very quiet, as were the bars which we were told tend to have live music; but not on a Monday evening.

Daisy had a beer in Cafe Taquezal, before we hit on the idea of having a room service sandwich with our remaining wine back at the hotel. There is a lovely nook overlooking the courtyard garden containing modern portraits of famous people, so we enjoyed a light supper and the rest of that good bottle of wine in the company of Yasser Arafat, Princess Diana, Charlie Chapin, Pele, Sandino and many others. Daisy had brought a few little Valentines chocolates and decided (I think wisely) that they were unlikely to survive much more travel in the heat, so we did the sensible thing with those too. A very lovely evening in the end.

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