Nicaragua Part 2 & Costa Rica

At noon, my flight to the Corn Islands departed. When I saw the plane, I couldn't help but smile. I have always wanted to take a scenic flight on a small Cessna over Bielefeld. Since that has not worked out yet, I was now on a similarly small aircraft heading to the larger of the two Corn Islands. The first stop was in Bluefields on a gravel runway; during the second landing, we almost touched down in the grass before the runway. The pilot had to land very early because half of the runway was closed for construction. After an hour and a half of flying, my hands began to dry out again. I generally enjoy flying, but small planes feel a bit suspicious to me, especially when they are older than I am.

Afterward, we continued by boat to the smaller of the two islands. Shortly after boarding, my shoulder bag tore; thank goodness I was already on the boat, or else my phone, passport, and e-book reader would have gotten soaked. I knew it was the off-season, but I was still surprised at how quiet it was here. Only about 30% of the shops, restaurants, and 'hotels' were open, the rest were closed, and even the ones that were open had only a sparse number of visitors. I didn't mind; it gave me time to read, dive, and swim.
Diving, as always, was a dream. I saw nurse sharks, giant lobsters, large crab species, reef sharks, and eagle rays, to name just a few. In the far north, there was a pretty large beach where I spent three afternoons. At times, the diesel generator failed, and the whole island went without power for two days, but that was no problem here at all. We cooked and ate by candlelight. By the way, there has been a solar power system in place for three years that could supply the entire island with electricity; unfortunately, it has not been connected to the grid to this day because a part was missing during installation, and no one has felt responsible for it since... And there it was again: Is that Sparrenburg, do you come from Bielefeld? Yes, and yes, as it turned out, we live just five streets apart; the world is that small.

After 8 dives and 8 nights (the plan was four dives and 3 to 4 nights), I have to say goodbye to the little Corn Island. I find it a bit hard to leave. My host Grace took excellent care of me, providing delicious coffee every morning, mending my bag, and grilling tasty fish for me. However, she, along with the entire island, faces an uncertain future.

In the photos, the beaches look fantastic, but the truth is that just a few years ago, there were significantly larger beaches. Until a few years ago, two more huts stood in front of my cabin, and a volleyball court was right there as well. Unfortunately, nothing remains of that now, and sadly, one can no longer go directly into the water at this location because concrete and stones are supposed to protect the property from further erosion. The same can be observed on almost all sides of the island. Each hurricane takes a little more of the island due to climate change and the rising sea level.

For the first time, I felt like I could have stayed longer, but I’m glad I have appointments, so I don’t get stuck on the island. My dive instructor told me that most people stay for 5 days, and if someone is still there in the second week, there’s a high risk of them getting stuck there. You can really see that many people have been living here for a long time, and the alcohol consumption here is quite high as well…
I didn't need to be brought back to reality; I was regardless. When you pass by the tin huts and see the dirty furniture and dusty mattresses, it does give you a bad feeling. I can imagine how damp and clammy it must be inside the huts. Nevertheless, everyone is friendly and courteous and always greets you. In the evening, children go swimming or try to catch birds. They throw a stone, a piece of wood, or some other object in the direction of the bird. As long as the bird is confused and disoriented, it is captured and examined. If it survives, it is released back into the evening sky, although some looked quite unfit for flying. I don't know what happens to the specimens.

Big Corn Islands is the right place if you want more beach; however, I don't like it here so much, which may also be due to the weather, which has become noticeably more changeable. Everything is more sprawling and not as nice as over there. Therefore, my highlight was also my visit to the hairdresser. In a small shed by the roadside, I tried to explain to my counterpart what I wanted. So far, so good. The machine initially worked reliably until it started acting up; at first, a screwdriver helped, but when that no longer worked, they generously sprayed some WD40 on the cutting head, and afterward, the machine ran perfectly again! The scissors, which would more likely be found in our kitchen than at the hairdresser's, were quickly sharpened with a glass bottle (I have no idea how that worked). Since the handling with comb and scissors did not look very professional, I became a bit nervous when the colleague inserted the razor blade into the holder. But what can I say, I made it through without injury, albeit with a somewhat unconventional haircut, and for that, a decent splash of Eau de WD40!
I'm too old for a dorm room. While two of my roommates and I went to bed relatively early around 11 PM, we had not seen the fourth person all evening. Until I woke up at night because my bed was shaking and I heard a bang. Apparently, the person beneath me fell into bed drunk. When the performance repeated itself half an hour later, he ran against the bathroom door multiple times and had to gag. I expected the worst. Eventually, he found the door, and at the same time, you could hear the splashing. I didn't smell anything; at least he made it to the bathroom. Accordingly, I had a bad night’s sleep because the noise from below didn't really cease. In the morning, I went straight to a shared bathroom to brush my teeth; I met the other two from my room in the hall, who also just laughed and didn't want to look at the mess in the toilet. Well, it's off for 5 hours by bus to the next hostel in San Juan del Sur; hopefully, I'll have better luck there. I'm already looking forward to the time with Lippe and afterward with Fina without a dormitory :)
A cool little town, especially if you like to party. Since I prefer riding a scooter and exploring the area, I rented one of course. You shouldn't expect picture-perfect beaches here, but you can spend your day alone on very secluded beaches. In San Pedro itself, the beach was full of trash, but from up at the Christ statue, you can't see it.

With my scooter, I made it to La Flor, 25 km away, to a nursery for small turtles. Since it was clear that no one else was visiting, I got to release all the little baby turtles by myself. It’s sad that the beach must be guarded around the clock by park rangers and the military because there are still people who dig up the eggs and then eat them. One park ranger even asked why all the tourists are scared to drive in the dark. Back it went past construction sites, blinding oncoming traffic, and through small rivers, hence! And that’s why nobody comes here :) When you see only fireflies around you, you’re off the road...

We quickly headed to the island of Ometepe. 'Quickly' here means a 50 km drive and a short ferry ride taking 4.5 hours. After the last nights in the hostel, I treated myself to a cabin including breakfast for €18/night away from the small towns. Despite the gravel roads and the really small villages, buses run regularly here; one could definitely learn a thing or two from that. The next two days were spent exploring both volcanoes on the scooter. You have to be very careful and wide awake here, firstly not to brake too hard in the sand and gravel, and secondly to watch out for cows, monkeys, pigs, chickens, dogs, and horses by the roadside, as they like to cross the road without warning.

Over and over again, I am impressed and saddened by how simply people live here; you cannot really call it living. Life here is hard; in the morning, they head to the fields or plantations, and in the afternoon, they fix up the 'house,' the garden, or something else, and take care of the animals in between. I was happy to just ride around the island; that was impressive enough, and I also paddled a kayak through a small swamp, observing some animals, including a baby caiman. Another stop was a small park where I saw some howler monkeys, turtles, various birds, and thousands of large butterflies.

Costa Rica
The border crossing was 'on time'; since the bus from Ometepe arrived 1.5 hours late, I had to take a taxi to the border, which turned out to be just right. I didn't want to pay the tourist price of twenty dollars, so I opened my wallet and in my poor Spanish tried to explain that I only had 400 Córdobas left (€10). I had hidden the rest of my money beforehand, and so I found a taxi driver willing to take me quickly to the border at 100 km/h (locals pay €4, by the way). On the Nicaragua side, they wanted $1 to enter the building and another $3 to exit, just for foreigners, mind you. The entire exit and entry process took over 1.5 hours, and so I found myself sitting on the last bus 5 minutes before it was set to leave.
After more than 13 hours, I finally arrived in La Fortuna and left disappointed after 3 nights, although 'disappointed' is actually too harsh; I just didn’t enjoy it that much. I was aware in advance that everything was significantly more expensive, and that was okay. However, the type of vacation here is not what I am looking for at the moment. A sloth and 'jungle tour' costs at least €30, where you are taken merely to the edge of town and walk a 1 km loop in a small fenced-off forest (surrounded by fields and houses) over two hours, and that just really wasn’t worth it to me. I managed to convince myself to check out the so-called highlight, Parque Místico, to at least give it a chance. Since there were no reasonable bus connections, we had to rely on taxis. I found three female companions for the 20-minute drive to the park entrance. At the entrance, several buses and various groups were already waiting for a tour. The paths were paved and designed for large masses of tourists who cross a few hanging bridges, costing 30€. It was nice, and we saw some animals (coatis, tarantulas, snakes, and some birds), but if you have already seen a few square kilometers of jungle in Asia and traveled a bit around Central America, then it's simply nothing, or at least, nothing I want to do. From what I've read and heard, that’s how it is in most parks in Costa Rica. For beginner backpackers, a 3-week vacation where a car is rented, or a family vacation with children, I can definitely recommend it. Most people speak English, and many things are catered to package tours and organized, rather simple tours.
In advance, people living in Costa Rica even recommended that I quickly travel through here; in fact, that's what I'm doing now as I head to Uvita and then straight to Panama.

Uvita is okay, but not the kind of okay you'd find in East Westphalia, or else I would be thrilled. No, somehow I expected more. What I now notice is that here, like at home, everything is done by car, which also explains the large parking lots in front of all the attractions and supermarkets and why there aren't many bus connections.

On the last evening, there was a heavy tropical rain. After just 5 meters to the restaurant, I was already quite wet, and the weather report promised no改善. Therefore, I decided to eat at the most expensive restaurant in the village since it was directly in the hotel. I ordered a pizza for a sporty €18. When the pizza arrived, I wondered why other things were on it, but maybe I just misunderstood with my limited Spanish. In the end, the wrong name was over the ingredients of the pizza that I wanted. The pizza I received was already at €24 + €5 for taxes and service. Wow, the most expensive pizza of my life, so far! Next time I’ll probably throw on some swim trunks and go to a local restaurant. From the prizes that the cook allegedly won, I didn't taste anything at all.
Departure. As with every time, I take my passport out of the safe before packing it into my shoulder bag and putting my backpack on the floor to store the remaining items. I take a final look around, search the bed like every time, and check under the bed to ensure I haven’t forgotten anything. Then I take the bus from the beach to the main road, where my bus to the border is supposed to leave. An hour later, it arrives and goes back to the beach past my hotel. Great, I think, I could have slept an hour longer. I look in my bag again, but where's my passport? Panic sets in; where did I last see it? At the hotel! It’s definitely not in my backpack, and I don’t have time to search my bag, as we are already at the stop near my hotel. I ask the driver if he can wait 5 minutes; I forgot my passport. I leave my large backpack without saying anything on the bus. I couldn’t have run with that anyway. At a quick pace, I head into the hotel room; there’s no passport in sight. Towels are lying on the floor, underneath which is my passport. Back to the bus; the 5 minutes have already passed, but the bus is still in place. Breathe... When I stood my large backpack up, my passport must have slipped next to the cupboard along with the towels resting on my backpack...