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Good timing is always a travellers blessing. The proud owner of a 1972 VW van, Dave, had checked in to the brewery a couple of days after me and was now, just like me, heading for Nicaragua. A small crew rapidly formed and we were of towards the border after 6 days at the brewery. The van was obviously fourished for one person, but we managed to fit 4 people in it, myself, Dave, a canadian traveller who goes by the name Kyle and a german girl I just can`t remember the name of.
Our plan was pretty much to drive towards Nicaragua and see what would happen. Since Dharma, as Dave had named the car, was almost 40 and therefore not the quickest on the road, we didn`t get further than Tegucigalpa, the capitol of Honduras, the first day. Our lack of speed also caused us to arrive way after nightfall, which is not a desirable situation for this particular city. Nontheless, we had pinpointed some cheap accomodation and actually found the place without to much trouble. However, our locating skills didn`t help us to much since the place we were looking for had been out of buisness over a year: Lonely Planet win.
So there we were, late night in Tegucigalpa with a big van full of gringos, without any hostels nearby. After asking around for a while we just decided to f*** it, and checked in to the only hotel situated in the area, The Hotel America. Never have I ever stayed in such a hotel. Air - condition, LCD - TV, big comfortable beds and even a lounge in the room! In hindsight, worth every single penny.
The next day our german friend left us, and the three of us made an early escape for Nicaragua. Dharma still not looking like a formel 1 racing car we staggered up the mountains, through the two hour long border control and into Nicaragua. I had read about a couple of towns up in the north I wanted to visit, or at least pass through. Esteli; known for its world class cigar - production, Matagalpa; a gateway up to the beautiful coffee-plantations covering the northern mountains and San Ramon: A small agriculture village where locals happily will show you around the coffee-plants and production sites.
Making better time than we dared to hope for we passed straight throug Esteli and made it all the way to Matagalpa on the second day. We had a very eventless night in Matagalpa at the cheapest hostel I`ve stayed in so far. Three bucks payed for a saggy bed, a tiny padlocked door and a leaking roof. Good value!
We aimed Dharmas nose for Sam Ramon the next day, eager to learn about the coffee-industry here in Nicaragua. This beeing off the gringo-trail, signs are abundant and finding your way is hard. We got a bit lost, and stopped by a big front gate and asked an elderly man for directions. Turned out the man was an american plantation owner and he ended up inviting us in for some home-grown coffee. Nicaragua is not yet as big in the international coffee - Marked in quantity, but is well known for it`s quality. Nicaraguan gourmet coffee. And sure enough, we were served the best cup of coffee I´ve ever had, hand picked and produced in the very same house we were drinking it in.
We ended up not going to Sam Ramon that day, but instead spending the whole day with the american couple, walking around in their coffee-fields, eating pancakes and meeting the local workers that were hired on the finca (farm). Even though we skipped the original plan, it was an amazing day, far better than what I was excpecting in San ramon.
We took of from the northern mountains in the afternoon, with our compass set towards the capitol, Managua. It is said that Nicaragua is the second safest country in the American continent, only trailing to Canada. This, however, does not reflect the situation in Managua. Pretty much everyone we met had a story to tell that usually contained teenage robbers with screwdrivers and knifes. We found our hostel, that luckily enough had parking, and had a tranquilo first night in the capitol with a couple of beers in a close by bar.
When we took Dharma out for a spin the next day, she broke down as we were parking next to the backpackers inn hostel. A flat tire and a torn component in the steering-system. The wheel was simple enough, but to find new parts for a 1972 VW in Managua wasn`t a walk in the park. In our search we ended up in the notorious oriental marked in Managua, which is the biggest marked in central - Amerika. We were strongly adviced against going, since it basically is a hub for smuggled and stoled goods, and therefore attracting the robbers and thiefs. Being accustumed to locals being way to overprotective of their tourists pretty much everywere, I didn`t really understand the graveness of the place until out taxi-driver, who also agreed to guide us around the marked, took out a sharply loaded gun from his car and shoved it in his pocket as he said: "Para los ladrones", with a smile no his face.
The market itself was an interresting place. Filled with telephones, ipods and cameras, all without chargers, that probably was stolen just a couple of days ago. It also has a reputation of being the place were you can find whatever you´re looking for. We heard stories about baby-jaguars, live hand-granates and other rarities. We encountered some strange stuff, but luckily none of the above mentioned.
My last night in the capitol and with the van-crew was spend with a delicous gourmet dinner coocked by Kyle, who works as a chef in Canada, that put me into a food-coma in front of a good movie. Me gusta mucho.
Next stop, Leon.
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