Author: Guest Post

Isla de Ometepe, Nicaragua 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 was sitting across the aisle. ¨Hey! How have you been?¨ He asked. ¨Well….¨ We told him what happened during the twenty-four hours since we had last seen him. ¨Oh. I´m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Did they let you keep your memory card?¨ Somehow it´s so easy to cross between serious and comical and his comment was just enough to push us over into laughter. The memory was still too fresh in my mind and I flashed back to the terrifying moment the men advanced on us, covered their faces with their t-shirts, and flashed the foot-long butcher knives. ¨No, surprisingly they didn´t give us that option.¨ In Rivas we got off the bus in the middle of what I see as chaos, but is actually the open market. ¨¿Donde esta la iglesia?¨ The answer came in the form of “4 north, 2 east” which meant we responded by going in the direction where he pointed, and turning in the direction where he pointed. Once in front of the church we marveled at...