We left Guatemala with heavy hearts. Lovely Mario our pick up truck driver from before, collected us from the top of Earth Lodge’s barbaric hill we had to tackle in the rain… at 4am. We had an early flight leaving from Guatemala City (a couple of hours away) to Nicaragua. The drive back down the rolling mountainside toward the urban sprawling centro seemed completely different to the one we had embarked on a few weeks ago. Or maybe it was us that had changed. Filling our minds with as much of the magic as we could out the window, we had soon arrived at the chaotic city airport and bid farewell to this treasured chapter.

G R A N A D A

The convoluted process out of the Nicaraguan airport wasn’t helped by the only good looking guy around for miles standing directly opposite us as Sam dropped all of her worldly possessions all over the floor, and I walked the wrong way through the security doors. The two of us scrambled out of there as fast as we could, only to be told our immigration forms were filled out wrong and were sent to the back of the long line of impatient holiday makers. Finally through to the other side, we somehow ended up again next to beautiful man waiting for our luggage which of course didn’t come delicately off the conveyer belt. Instead I managed to take out two people as I tried to pull the thing off and swing it around onto my back.

Stepping out of the airport, our luck continued to dwindle as we were cornered by a stressful choir of local voices harassing us for our business. To put a stop to the shrill noise, we agreed to catch a taxi for the 45 minute leg from Managua to Granada costing us $50 USD instead of a $5 bus ride. However, we both agreed that old mate ‘beautiful’ would have known to catch the bus for sure, and at least we could sit in peace in the back of our luxury private transfer we couldn’t afford, instead of face him again.

It seemed that right from the beginning, we were just slightly out of synch with Nicaragua and continued to be until we flew out of her grasp a couple of weeks later.

The drive through the city and out into the bleak, flat countryside put us head to head with ox carts every now and again or another taxi rearing to overtake us. Apart from drivers of vehicles, we passed half empty houses sitting on wilting crops, shoeless boys playing basketball in driveaways and occasionally silhouettes of tired looking women leaning in doorways.

As dirt roads began to mix with bitumen we turned into a sudden pop of colourful houses and fruit vendors singing out specials on bananas. The more colour we passed, the more chaotic the roads became which we now shared with people, stalls, cows, music, pubs, pokey machines, bikes and the sweat of workers. There was a similarity to Antigua in the original architecture, towering volcanoes and tumble down charm, yet Granada had a much more grittier feel about it.

Once dropped off on the street of our hostel, we tripped on broken sideways, and adjusted to the faint smell of manure and diesel exhaust as we waddled into our home for the next four days.

Upon entry, the bohemian lace hammocks and lap pool surrounded by lush gardens gave this place a very tranquil first impression. The two receptionists were taller in stature and rougher in approach than the Guatemalan demeanor we had grown used to, and as they shrugged and pointed to our room, the tranquility quickly dissipated. We had booked a cheap dorm for our time in here, hoping to level out our spending. The 8 bed dorm was certainly not up for any awards with an open top bathroom plonked in the middle of the room and two large windows of fly wire facing directly into the common area. Realising we had no sheets, Sam went to trouble the girls on the front desk for some, only to return with an oddball assortment of Mickey Mouse, Racing Car and Barbie linen. We both took a bottom bunk so as to barricade ourself in for the night as we weren’t sure what our stranger roomates were going to be like tonight.

After spinning our cocoons, we decided to dunk ourselves in the pool to disguise our sweaty hair and hot red faces and headed into town to explore. We were surprised to find most of the eateries were fairly expensive so we settled for cheap Italian on the La Calzada served by a nice old waiter with blue eyes who sung “Skippy” everytime we made eye contact.

We retired to our fortress about 9:30pm. Once in bed, four or five times after we had turned the lights off, they were switched back on as by other bed dwellers! By 1am I woke to the light blaring in so got up to turn it off again, only for someone else to walk in 5 minutes later and ping it back on. A few hours later, we were woken by the delightful smell of morning bowel movements floating through the air from our open toilet.

Banana pancakes did salvage the morning, and after eating my body weight in them we took straight to the streets on a new hostel hunt. Finding a much vibier establishment with the added lure of a private double room, we eagerly jumped at the slightly higher charge and the freedom from toilet smells. This one also had much more information for backpackers as well as daily shuttles to various sites dotted around its circumference.

Feeling more comfortable, we spent the next week immersing ourselves in the town and its surrounds. Founded in 1524, Granada is one of the oldest European settled cities in Latin America. Packed into a maze of narrow streets, we found ourselves wandering around the vibrant examples of Central American history with churches and bell towers on every corner to admire views from.

Shadowed by the yellow Cathederal was Parque Central, the main square and hub of Granada. Brightly coloured with market stalls, shoe shiners, street vendors and horse & carts, the cleanly swept facade did not mirror the rest of the back streets or outer corners of the towns web. So we didn’t spend much time here. We were more insterested in discovering Nicaragua’s true colours which were located deeper in it’s pockets and held a much darker past and rougher shell. It was here we found local eateries, beautiful old bookstores, crumbling historical buildings and bohemian jewellery stores to meander through. This painted much more of an authentic picture than the tourist hungry streets flashing layers of paint and prices to match.

Our upgraded hostel also offered pancakes for breakfast as well which I was not complaining about. After helping myself to my third serving one morning, we were then bundled on a shuttle bound for Laguna de Apoyo.

Originating about 23,000 years ago when a huge volcanic explosion interrupted a major underground water table, Apoyo now offers its guests the experience of swimming in a volcanic crater lake. Lazing out on the day beds on the gravelled mineral sand, we read books and chatted life and slipped in and out of naps as the sun gently lulled us into sleep. Wrestling with my subconscious to try and stay awake I tentatively peeled off the bed and edged myself toward the water. As I slowly submerged I was surprised to find the water so warm and salty. Volcanic minerals were at play against underground currents creating a strange sensation as I floated in the dark blue water. As we moved onto rubber tyres to help take the weight off and drifted out to the pontoon to jump off, the morning sun quickly turned to afternoon torrential downpour. The only way to avoid was to seek refuge under the bar shelter and order cheap beer. Sam and I ended up plonking ourselves down at a table already housing a German family. We were pleasantly surprised to discover they were also staying in hostels and following the same gringo trail we were. After they learned we were Aussie the two girls couldn’t stop raving about wanting to go there. To them, Australia was the true exotic land, not swimming in a volcano crater glowing from 1000 secret soils and minerals!

A few beers in we took a chicken bus out of town to the Masaya Markets where we were the only pasty skinned faces getting lost in it’s medina.

So many more adventures were had but all in all it was the first time we felt the stop didn’t live up to the hype nor the image we had conjured of this part of the world. Yes, you can go volcano boarding, hike lakes, find ancient buildings and laze on beaches but we just felt like we were out of rythym with the heartbeat of the place. We had already been exposed to such wonders already in a far more authentic manner without it feeling like a tourist trap. It may have just been our experience but we arent going to hurry back to this dot on the map again.