Posts Tagged ‘ Nicaragua ’

Painting Nicaragua

January 14, 2010
Painting Nicaragua

The sun rises slowly but the noises of morning come suddenly. I'm used to hearing roosters alarm sleepers that morning has risen, but here a large community (or so it sounds) is quacking and twittering "get up, get up." As I stand in the yard a parade of animals make their debut, one at...
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Where my coffee comes from

December 23, 2009
Where my coffee comes from

"I tried to buy a ticket too, but they've run out of seats," says the only other Gringo on the bus. There has to be 200 of us packed into this former American school bus. And without a ticket, this means we'll be standing for the two-hour haul over the mountains to Matagalpa. This...
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Getting Robbed at Knife-point

December 16, 2009
Getting Robbed at Knife-point

It’s been one week since we were robbed at knife-point in San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua. Since then I’ve had a multitude of emotions and feelings: anger, frustration, forgiveness, vengefulness, regret. As a traveler or tourist you expect to get your pocket picked on a crowded bus, you expect to get your purse jacked...
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On to Ometepe

December 10, 2009
On to Ometepe

Emolyn´s Travel Snapshots We got a fresh start on December 1 out of San Juan del Sur, juiced up at Margarita’s restaurant and hopped on the chicken bus, like in the movies, right as it pulled out of town. We slumped into a sticky plastic seat and low and behold, our Japanese surfing friend...
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Where School Buses Go When they Die

December 3, 2009
Where School Buses Go When they Die

Blog of a Modern Nomad The border crossing at Peñas Blancas is the typical chaos: money changes with huge wads of cordobas, dollars, and colones, a mother and son beggar team, long lines of tired Nicaraguan laborers, and a nun asking for offerings.  Before and after the 200-meter Noman’s Land one tractor trailer after another...
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Friends and Foes

December 3, 2009
Friends and Foes

Travel Snapshots We have been lucky in many ways so far in Central America, the first being that my Costa Rican friend, Jorge, picked us up from the airport.  I guess because I was raised in a small town, I noticed quickly how houses had fences around the properties securing them from the street and...
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