Last Week in Exile

Traveling alone is a bit like being in exile.

I boarded a 12-seater puddle-jumper in Managua bound for San Carlos. A town which serves as a border crossing between Costa Rica and Nicaragua, San Carlos lies at the bottom of Lake Nicaragua at the mouth of the Rio San Juan. After a breathtaking flight over the lake, the largest body of fresh water in the world after the Great Lakes of North America, my little plane landed on a strip of red mud in the middle of the jungle. A quick taxi ride brought me to the docks and a two-hour wait in muggy, muddy, buggy San Carlos, from which my boat for Sabalos departed. Like most border towns, the transients, drifters, and hustlers give one a bad first impression and while I'm certain it has much to offer, San Carlos was like a layover in hell for me. I pondered my situation, was the $120 flight worth the trip down here to spend a few days on a river? I started to question just what exactly I had gotten myself into.

Eventually, my departure time approached and I loaded onto the lancha which would deliver me to my destination. The collectivo, or public boat which heads down the Rio San Juan, is a low-lying, long, narrow motor boat which sits about three passengers across. It is covered with open sides. We chugged away from the docks and headed down the river. Within moments of leaving San Carlos, I found myself surrounded by absolute beauty. The river is wide and lazy this time of year as the rainy season is just beginning. The shores are thick jungle, canopies of green broken here and there by fields where cows graze. There are more birds than I could keep track of, the most common of which was the garza or white heron...there were hundreds of them. I also saw some spoonbills, which are about the size of a heron, white, but they have these delicious cotton-candy pink wings and beaks which end in a flat spoon shape. The sky was filled with towering cumulous clouds, dramatic and breathtaking. Little islands of water hyacinth float along the river...down here they are called lechugas. Sometimes you'll see 10 or 15 of them floating down the river at once (or one really large one), herons sometimes catching a ride on them. The lancha stops along the way to let passengers off or pick up new ones. Every once in a while the shore is lined by a handfull of open air huts and you can see children and horses and chickens milling about, women waist deep in the river scrubbing laundry on rocks. Often there is only one lonely shack, or no homes at all but someone waving down the lancha for a ride. Every so often, the boat was swarmed by these tiny green flies, forcing everyone to take cover under shirts, hats, bandanas. Thankfully they aren't biters, but they get everywhere and are certainly annoying. The boat would speed up in attempt to shake them off.

About two hours later, I mistakenly disembarked in the pueblo of Sabalos, but was offered a lift to my actual lodge, where I was greeted by a staff of young Nicas, once again the sole guest. I took a bed in La Cabina Aventura, which is sort of the backpackers quarters, which means no frills and a shared bathroom (with the staff since I was the only guest). The other cabins are a bit more fancy with their own decks and hammocks right on the river, but too much for just one person. After a tour of the quarters, my host Maria Los Angeles invited me into town with the staff while they ran some errands. Maria, a 25-year old Managuan with a degree in tourism, Isa, an 18-year old from Sabalos who was in charge of the boats, Don Juan, our escort, probably in his mid-fifties, and I, charged up the river in a motorboat to Sabalos. The phones were down at the lodge and Maria wanted to call her mother from town. It was Mother's Day in Latin America, the 30th of May. In Latin America this day is treated much more like a national holiday than what we celebrate in the states. Everyone gets together with their families with food, music, flowers, cakes and more. Anyway, while she called her mom, Isa gave me a tour of Sabalos, a tiny little pueblo split in half by the Sabalos River, which feeds into the Rio San Juan. He pointed out the new water system which was in the middle of construction as well as three health centers, new to the town as well. Later we stopped to pick up a Mother's Day cake. Cake's in Nicaragua are all homemade. They come on pieces of cardboard wrapped in foil, not boxes. One of my favorite things is watching folks walk around town with a cake balanced on their palm. It's a real test of my self-control to not dip my finger in the frosting as they pass by. Before we returned to the lodge, Don Juan treated me to two deliciously cold and satisfying beers. Once again I found myself in Nicaraguan paradise after a long day of travel.

When we returned to the lodge I was once again included in the festivities as the staff celebrated Mother's Day with their resident "mother," Suzana. We had cake and soda in the dining area and I made everyone's acquaintance, striking up a particularly good conversation with Luis, the cook. It was about that time that some other guests arrived, a Swiss couple who were spending three years in South Carolina (?), on a two-week vacation to Costa Rica and Nica. Although it was short lived, it was nice to be treated like one of the staff for a while...reminds me of home.

I spent the next three days swinging in a hammock, watching the river float by. One of my favorite past-times was watching Los Sabalos Real, these gigantic fish, jump out of the water to munch on bugs. Some of them were probably 3 feel long...and those are just the one's I saw. They get much bigger than that. There are caymans as well floating in the river, but most of their activity is nocturnal. I also saw these funny little iguanas who run across the water at a breakneck speed, defying gravity. The birds were spectacular as well. At night I slept in my cabin room on the second floor of the lodge under a mosquito net, safe from the little green flies. It was a bit disoncerting to hear the bats swish by, inches from my head, thankfully outside my net. And the howler monkeys! While there are lots of monkeys in Nicaragua, they are a bit rare to see as I think they are less accostomed to humans as the ones you find in popular parts of Costa Rica. Although I never saw them in person, I awoke every morning at the lodge to the horribly disturbing roar of the howler monkeys. Although they are only a few feet tall and probably weight about 10 pounds, they sound like 10 foot tall monsters. My food a la Luis was unbelievable. I had curried chicken and fresh river fish, yucca and bean soup, fried eggs for breakfast and always jugo (juice) with every meal.

I don't know if I am able to properly describe the way it felt to be on this river for a few days. I have not had many experiences in my life that were more memorable, more beautiful. The pace and the wildlife and the people all slow and easy, tranquilo. Sabalos was a magical place for me to spend the last of my days in Nicaragua. It is virtually untraveled as of yet, but I'm certain this will change rapidly in the coming years as more and more people discover this paradise. I am thankful to have spent some time there when I did and will defintately go back if I have the chance.