Normally there would not be much to tell about leaving a country and returning home, but I felt that in this particular case, it deserved its own post.

After a couple of days in San Juan del Sur, and another couple of nights in Granada, the three of us, Kenny, Dennis & myself, were all ready to leave Nicaragua and start heading home. Our little town of Playas del Coco was calling our name, offering our own beds, and familiar, safe locales. Before we could enjoy those creature comforts of home though, we needed to spend nearly an entire day stuffed into several overcrowded buses traveling between Nicaragua and Costa Rica.

The night before we left I couldn't sleep a wink. Not because I was excited about going home, but because I had picked up a stomach bug at some point over the previous couple of days. Before we left Costa Rica I had not researched the drinking water in Nicaragua, and as it turns out, it is not safe to drink. I found out the hard way, so considered yourself forewarned.

Back Street Nicos of Granada

Luckily there was a pharmacy attached to San Jorges, our $5 a night hostel. The gentleman behind the counter didn't speak much English, but knew exactly what we were trying to convey. Two pills was all it took to give me, and my travel mates, a safe and comfortable ride home over the next 10 hours.

The bus route home was a grueling trek across 150 miles of stop-and-go country roads. We first needed to find our way to Rivas, then catch a connector to the border town of Frontera, which in Spanish literally means "border". This is the same border crossing we visited on our way into Nicaragua, so we thought we were old pros at this point.

Wow, were we ever wrong. This time we did not have our friends with us to guide us through the mayhem. Left up to our own devices, we headed to the building where we received our entry visas for Nicaragua. It had only been a few days, but things had already been changed around. Rather than sliding our passports through a small opening, we now needed to enter the building to clear customs.

We approached the customs agent together, but he only wanted one at a time. At this point we made our first mistake, and split up into separate lines in an effort to speed the process. I had no idea what the man was saying to me, and in my typical fashion during these types of moments, I just smiled, nodded and said "sí, sí."

Loner on the edge of Lake Nicaragua

I maybe understood a little of what he was saying. He pointed to my papers, and in Spanish said, "where have you been in Nicaragua during your stay?" Well, at least that's what I thought he said. I replied that we had visited San Juan del Sur and Granada, each for a few evenings. He accepted that, stamped my passport, and I was on my way.

Traversing the border on foot between these two countries requires you to show your passport & papers to many different border patrol officers along the way. There were no less than three stations on each side which stopped us to verify everything was in order. We were just about to pass station number three in Nicaragua and officially enter Costa Rica when I was singled out and not allowed to pass.

As it turns out, the customs agent who stamped my passport had given me another entry visa, rather than the exit visa I needed. My friends explained that the agent was asking where I was headed, not where I had been. Just another case of being lost in translation.

The patrol officer turned me around, and sent me back from where I came. My friends were stuck in no-mans-land, men without countries as it were, while I fought my way back into the customs building. If our first encounter was confusing, this round was down right uncomfortable. I had to cut in front of everyone else, without explaining why, and argue with the customs officer until he understood what I was saying, and gave me what I needed. Not fun, but I got it done.

Now onto the Costa Rica side of the border, we again pulled our trick of entering the exit of the customs building, saving ourselves a few hours in the process. However, this time did not go as smoothly. In order to enter Costa Rica, you must have proof that you are leaving the country before your 90 day visa expires. Its called Proof of Onward Travel, and is a total pain.

Little Nica in Nicaragua

Not all customs agents ask for this proof, so we decided to try our luck, which we apparently had very little of. The agent asked, and of the three of us, only Kenny had the required onward travel documentation. Dennis & I were not allowed to enter the country until we sorted this out, and the agent provided absolutely no direction as to what we were supposed to do now.

Just outside the building we started asking around... After all, somebody had to know how to get around this, we just needed to find the right person. It didn't take long, and all we needed was a $20 bus ticket. The ticket is good for one year, and we were told this is sufficient documentation for the customs agent.

To our surprised it worked, and we were finally back in our assumed country of Costa Rica. It felt great, and we found our second wind. We needed the extra energy too, because the mix up with customs had caused us to miss our bus. The next departure for Liberia didn't leaving for another hour and a half, much longer than we were expecting.

Once again we turned to the crowd and just started talking. We found a guy that was dropping off his family at the border, then he was headed back to San Jose by way of Liberia. Perfect! We paid him $10 total, and off we went. This was an incredible deal, since the bus would have cost us $9, and the taxis all wanted $40 to $50 for the trip.

It was an express route, straight through to the bus station in Liberia, then onto our last bus directly into Coco. We made it back into town around 4pm that afternoon, just in time to catch to 4pm monkeys. After a monster burger & a basket of fries at Coconuts, I was ready for a two day nap.

Home, sweet, home...

Street Market
     I left my camera dangling around my neck, set to record video as I walked through the street market in Granada, Nicaragua. Its a little jumpier than I would have liked, but at least you can see the market's interior shenanigans.

Swinging Baby
     This mother was working with one hand, and swinging her baby with the other. I stopped and motioned for permission to take her picture. She smiled, and I captured this short clip...

Street Performers
     My friends & I were at the Road House Cafe eating dinner, when we heard loud drums playing outside. I ran out with my camera, amazed at what I found. What is this?

Break Dancing
     Hip hoppers break dancing in the street...

On November 21st we left San Juan del Sur headed for Granada. Getting around in Nicaragua is fairly easy using their public bus system, if you keep an open mind about your comfort level. We needed to catch a bus from San Juan del Sur back to Rivas, a main hub for the Nica buses. Quick note: locals in Costa Rica are called Tico/Ticas, and local Nicaraguans are called Nico/Nicas...

It seemed as though each transfer station was about an hour apart from one another in any direction. Each time we boarded a bus, we knew we had at least an hour, sometimes a little more, before reaching our destination. I found this comforting, since we would usually know what to expect going into the deal.

We had a short break in Rivas before our next bus departed. I had brought a bag that was already stuffed to its brink, and set out to find a slightly larger backpack for myself. Kenny took off in the other direction in search of a belt, and I'm not sure where Dennis went. Rivas is one of those small towns in the middle of nowhere, but if you know where to look, you can find just about anything. We all agreed to meet back at the bus in 10 minutes.

While we waited patiently for our bus to depart, we were constantly harassed by local vendors selling everything from biscuits, to watches, to sacks full of some type of brown and orange juice. The juice was in a sandwich bag with a twisty-tie and a straw, and was very popular among the nicos. We didn't have any desire to test our stomachs on this particular day, so we passed on the juice bags.

Along the route to Granada we came across a very distinct smell that we all immediately recognized. A sly grin crept across our faces as we looked first at each other, then scanned the interior of the bus. We undoubtedly smelled marijuana, and figured someone had lit up a joint. However, a little further down the road our questions were answered. Villagers were burning huge piles of pot on the roadside, and the smoke was wafting down the highway. They were burning marijuana along with all the other weeds they had pulled from around their homes. Just another day in Nicaragua...

From asking around in Playas del Coco, I got a sense that Granada would resemble an old European city. I was even told that it possessed a quaint, colonial feel circa 1700. I had high hopes for a clean, safe, beautiful town full of culture.

I was shocked when I stepped off the bus. Perhaps the entire town of Coco had conspired against us. Maybe we had all fallen asleep and missed our stop. A thousand scenarios scrambled through my mind as I stared down the long line of dilapidated shacks, haggard umbrellas and piles of rotten food in the street. I knew one thing for sure... I needed to use the bathroom.

Actually, I knew two things. I also knew how to ask "where is a bathroom" in Spanish. For whatever reason, nobody could understand me, and we had to ask several different people. Finally we were pointed to a nondescript door and told to go inside. Knowing nothing about what we might find, we braved ahead.

It turns out that this was a family's home with a basic general store in their living room. Grandma, swaying in her rocking chair, smiled and pointed towards the backyard, knowing exactly what we needed. She charged us five cordobas, which is twenty cents in American money. We walked through their kitchen, tried not to step on any children in the dining room, and couldn't help but silently laugh at this unique experience.

Back on the street and heading into the thick of it, we were quickly spotted by a local hostel owner. He was offering "the deal of the week," as he puts it, which was a room for US$5 a night per person. Tempting as that sounded, we felt obligated to take a look around instead of settling on the first room presented to us. A futile effort apparently, because we ended up back at San Jorges, for five dollars a night. What a country.

We asked around and discovered that the place to see was the town square, which happened to be directly on the other side of the long strip of vendors. This was not a walk we were looking forward to, but for a reason you might not expect. It was not our safety we were overly concerned about, it was the smell. Each vendor would throw their leftovers & scraps of food into the middle of the street where it would sit, rotting, baking in the hot sun.

Plaza de la Independencia

The town square was a pleasant surprise, and was what we had been expecting from Granada. In the middle of the square is a large gazebo, surrounded by lush trees, fountains, statues and lots of park benches to relax while taking in the goings-on. Street performers infrequent the area, but we did manage to find a talented juggler.

Along one of the bordering streets was a long line of horse drawn carriages which added a feeling of old world France to the scene. The facade was complete when coupled with the nearby french-quarter-esque buildings. Just as I was about to take a picture, this horse bowed its head, as if to accept applause for its appearance.

The inscription on this statue reads Devotion to the Mother of All Love. Considering that Granada is the oldest colonial city in Nicaragua, as well as the entire Western hemisphere, this statue is in surprising good condition. There were several other statues around the town square, but this one stood out amongst the rest. Other statues had graffiti on them, or were simply covered in moss.

Also within the square were lots and lots of vendors selling bottles of water, candy, sodas, small snacks and much, much more. They seemed to be fairly popular, and remained in the park until well after dark. We weren't sure about the drinking water in Nicaragua, so it was nice to be able to find a quick bottle of water when we needed it.

We caught a taxi from Sapoa over to the coastal town of San Juan del Sur in Nicaragua, a beach community that was recommended to us by several people in Playas del Coco. This is the go-to fishing spot for many locals & foreigners alike, and has a big surfing culture as well.

We were dropped off at the beginning of town, and walked the rest of the way in. Dennis knew of a cheap hostel just up the street from Hotel Estrella, so we headed there first. We settled on a room with two bunk beds for $15 a night. It was private with its own shower, so what's not to like?

The hostel was less than a block from the beach, and we could smell the saltwater at night. Unfortunately the walls & doors were not in the best condition, and mosquitoes easily found their way into our room at night. At least we had air-conditioning...

Since none of us had eaten anything after breakfast, we wasted little time getting down to the main drag and finding a restaurant right on the sand. We landed at Iguanas which we would become very familiar with over the next 48 hours. Even though there were dozens of places along the coast, we always seemed to end up back here for breakfast, lunch & dinner.

San Juan del Sur is a half crescent cove on the Pacific coast of south-west Nicaragua. It remained a sleepy little fishing village until 1851 when, of all things, the California gold rush would transform her to become part of a transit route between the east and west coasts of the United States.

Prospectors would leave the east coast, sail to the Caribbean side of Nicaragua, then navigate up the Rio San Juan. From there they would cross Lake Nicaragua, disembark their vessels and catch horse-driven buggies across the 10-mile stretch of land until they reached San Juan del Sur. After all this, they would finally set sail for California.

Look closely at this picture and you'll see a large figure sitting atop the distance hill. Instead of building an ocean-view home for himself, a local land owner recently commissioned this statue of Jesus Christ to preside over the Bay of San Juan. Finished in May of 2009, this statue is the second largest statue of Jesus in the world, second only to the famous Christ The Redeemer in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

After lunch, Kenny, Dennis, Marta & I all took a stroll amongst the surf to see what we can find. At the far end of the main strip, there is a suspension bridge which spans the Rio San Juan and leads to the other side of town. Oddly enough, only Dennis & myself made it across. Kenny & Marta turned back after just a few feet, fearing the whole bridge would collapse or that they would fall off the side. I can certainly understand this from my scare back in Coco during the last zip lining tour I took.

That evening the sun slowly set behind a beautiful array of clouds, giving me the perfect opportunity to test a new technique I've been waiting to use. I removed my sunglasses, and shot this picture through one of its lens. It may be a bit of a goofy trick, but it was worth a try. I have tried this before with mixed results, but I think this one came out pretty well considering its a single shot, not a bracketed, three exposure HDR image like a lot of my other photos.

In the morning Dennis & I ventured a few miles down the beach to a surfing competition between Nicaragua, Costa Rica, El Salvador, and Guatemala. I must say that I was expecting a bigger turn out, seeing as how I am from Huntington Beach, a.k.a. Surf City. Neither Dennis or myself recognized any of the surfers, which was not all that surprising. We stayed for a few hours, met a few of the locals, then headed back to our hostel to pick up Kenny.

We had another travel day ahead of us, but one that was not nearly as grueling as getting into town from Coco beach. We were headed to Granada, a city that had been on my list since I first starting thinking about moving to Costa Rica back at the beginning of the year...

On November 19th, it was time to renew my passport visa for the second time since I arrived in Costa Rica. I wasn't actually required to leave the country until December 4th, but some friends of mine had to renew their visa also, so we all decided to go to Nicaragua together.

I woke at 6am and knew I was in for a long day. I had some last minute packing to do before I met my friends Kenny & Dennis downtown for breakfast at 7:30am. After a quick meal of bacon & eggs at a local soda stand, we caught the 8am bus to Liberia, Costa Rica.

For as early as it was, the buses were surprisingly full. When we arrived at the central bus station in Liberia, it was nearing pandemonium. Most ticos where going to work, some ticas where just headed home, and the gringos just didn't know where they were going.

We found our bus, which was headed for a small border town called Peñas Blancas. This is the main crossing between Costa Rica and Nicaragua. Unfortunately, we were not the only ones who needed to cross the border this morning. From what I was told, commercial truckers must wait in line for up to three days before finally crossing into Nicaragua. Some trucks had hammocks slung underneath their containers, a perfect spot to take a nap.

You can't see it from the picture, but this is only a two lane road, one lane in each direction. When our bus hit the back of the truck line, we simply pulled into oncoming traffic, and continued on. A few times we had to squeeze past a semi-truck which was headed away from the border. As you can imagine, after waiting for three days, these trucks were not in the mood to wait any longer for some tourist bus.

After getting stuck behind a police barricade for a short while in a little town called San Dimas, we finally reached the border and were allowed to disembark. Dennis had just been through this way a few weeks before, and thankfully knew exactly where to go. Whether or not we were allowed to, we went in the exit...

The line to enter the customs building reached far around the corner from the entrance. It was estimated to take a few hours before we could get our exit visa from Costa Rica, and officially enter Nicaragua. However, we snuck around the back, and walked in through the exit doors and straight past a security guard. We were standing in front of a customs agent within five minutes.

Costa Rica has an exit tax of US$26 at the airport, which I had to pay when leaving for Panama a few months before. When walking across the border into Nicaragua however, it was only US$12, a welcomed discount. We all paid our taxes, got our stamps, and headed down a quarter mile strip of dirt to the entrance of Nicaragua.

Some friends of ours work at the border, and met us in no-man's-land to help guide us through the chaos. There is the weird gap between countries where you're not sure which one you're in, or exactly where to go. Had we not had help, this would have been a nightmare.

Our friends took our passports & paperwork, and politely filled everything out for us. As we approached Nicaragua, the turmoil started to increase. Huge trucks were driving every which way, in no apparent order. Helpers and street vendors were approaching us every few feet. To top it all off, there were no signs giving any direction as to where we needed to go. We were lucky to have our friend Marta and her sisters helping us at this point.

We were shown a small window, and instructed to slide our passports through a skinny horizontal opening, where someone on the other side would presumably finish our customs process and let us enter the country. This made me extremely uncomfortable, since I could not see into the building. However, I trusted Marta, complied, and to my relief all went smoothly.

Kenny, Dennis, Marta & myself all walked over to the taxi line, hoping to strike a deal and save some money. We were immediately stopped by a police officer, who was mumbling something in Spanish and pointing to a small hut behind him. Marta said that we now needed to pay a tax to the city mayor of US$1. Something about this didn't seem right, but when a cop tells you to pay a dollar to some guy in a booth, you just pay it.

Without any further interruptions, we found a cab, and started our second half of the day with a final destination of San Juan del Sur on the Pacific coast of Nicaragua. There was only one quick stop we wanted to make first, and that was to Marta's house in Sapoa. She lives there with her grandmother and five sisters, in a modest structure on the shore of Lake Nicaragua.

Lake Nicaragua is a fresh water lake with 3,191 square miles of surface area, making it the 9th largest lake in the Americas. What's really special about this lake, however, is the twin pair of volcanoes stuck right in the middle on an island called Ometepe, meaning two mountains.

The volcanoes are named Concepción and Maderas, with Concepción being the taller of the two at just over a mile high, 5,282 feet to be exact. Only one of the volcanoes, Concepción, is still considered active. After a long silent period, Concepción exploded back to life during a massive eruption in December of 1880. Today, the island has a population of 42,000, who, when the volcano last erupted in 2010, refused to follow a government order to vacate the island. Marta's house backs right up to this view... Not a bad place to live, as long as the volcanoes remain in repose.

We sat around on the shore for a while, admiring the island. At some point, Marta's little cousin jumped in the water and swam around for a while. It was very windy, and quite cold for Central American weather, but that didn't stop him. Nor did the presence of bull sharks, which are reported to live in Lake Nicaragua. Needless to say, none of us were considering a swim.

Jerod & Becky had been visiting for almost a week, and we were down to our last night together. After a long day of zip lining, we decided to take a walk on the beach and watch the sun set.

Unfortunately we did not get a chance to go fishing during their stay, but Jerod still managed to catch a fish. Before we even sat down we found several of these little guys flopping around in the surf, and Jerod quickly chased one down with his bare hands. That still counts, right?

We set our stuff down in front of the Pacifico Resort, an impressive hotel on the north end of the beach. The resort has a couple of infinity pools, which we desperately wanted to jump into, but were off limits to non-patrons of the hotel. No matter, we found plenty of ways to entertain ourselves sitting along the shoreline.

One such activity was to chase crabs all over the beach. Just before sunset I was able to snap this action shot of Jerod & Becky trying to keep a sand crab out of the water. Jerod had just spent 15 minutes digging him out from his sand-cave, and they were not about to let him disappear into the waves without a fight.

It was a little too late in the day for snorkeling, but we still had enough time left for some good old body surfing. All we needed were some waves, which showed up just in time. After Jerod caught a few rides, other people along the beach started to join in.

Eventually though, the sun had retreated behind the hills, and we were ready to say good bye to the beach one last time. The moment was not wasted on any of us as we tried to burn these last rays of sunlight into our memories. It had been a wonderful couple of days together, but as is always the case, seemed to fly by far too fast.

In the morning we took a very early taxi over to the airport. Jerod & Becky had scheduled themselves to arrive home in the mid-afternoon, which meant they needed to catch one of the first flights leaving the Daniel Oduber Quiros International Airport. Their flight would take them back through Houston, a very common route for Continental Airline flights.

I can't thank them enough for coming to visit. Playas del Coco is a small little community, and I was happy we had a few chances to venture out a little bit. Almost as soon as they left, I was counting the days before we would see each other again.

When I returned home, I once again noticed how quiet the house had become without their voices around to break the silence... Jerod & Becky would be my last visitors to Coco before I left and returned home to California...

On our last day together, Jerod, Becky, Kenny & myself all went zip lining at a venue called Witch's Rock. Getting there was half the battle though...

We agreed to let the Witch's Rock company send us a shuttle for a small fee. Unfortunately, because of the way Costa Rica's streets work, it was hard for us to give them directions. My neighbor Anthony had setup the appointment for us, and he speaks fluent Spanish. Even with his help they still got lost, and we were left waiting for almost an hour past our designated meeting time.

Once on location, we were setup with our harnesses, and briefly explained the rules. This setup was quite different than the lines my Mom & I did over at Arenal. Here, we were given thick gloves and told to grab the line and pull in order to slow ourselves down. This was also how we would keep ourselves facing the right direction.

At first I was told that I could not bring my big camera along for the ride, only point-and-shoots were allowed. I can only guess, but think this was a ploy to make us purchase their pictures rather than take our own. We just so happen to be friends with one of the owners, and after a quick name drop, they agreed to let me bring it. I'm glad it worked out, because we saw the pictures at the end of our tour and I was none too impressed.

The first couple of lines were tester lines designed to let us get used to the setup. We started by climbing up the hill to the first platform. This was a process that would be repeated several times during our tour. Witch's Rock has 23 platforms, 8,156 feet of zip line, and 4 hanging bridges. Each line is slightly different, and each platform varies widely. The hanging bridges are a whole other animal, which in truth really scared me.

After a couple of lines we all became a bit more relaxed. For me personally, my heart was racing and I was a bit shaky for nearly the entire time. However, there were a few moments that were almost too much for me.

The first overtly intense moment was climbing a latter that went straight up from one platform to another. It took everyone else a matter of seconds, yet I was left standing on the latter for what seemed like five minutes.

Mixed in with the scary situations where some really incredible experiences. The 14th line took us directly over a waterfall. At the top of the falls was a lagoon which in turn was being feed by a slowly snaking river.

The guides gave us one important piece of information for this line: pay attention to where you are. If you let yourself become too distracted by the falls, you could easily overshoot the finish and crash into the stoppers at the end.

By far, the scariest part of the tour for me was the hanging bridges. Again, while the rest of my friends walked effortlessly ahead, I was left suspended with fear for several unnecessary minutes. My feet simply would not cooperate, and my knees trembled in imaginary anticipation of a long and fast fall to earth.

This bridge in-particular felt extraordinarily unsafe to me. The lines holding it together were very loose, and in my opinion wobbled more than they should have. The floor would roll to such a degree that I could have easily slipped off the side and through the draw-lines.

Had I been ten years younger, nothing could have frightened me this way. At this point, my friends were starting to understand just how scared I was, and eased up on the teasing. I know I deserved a good hazing for my silly reaction to a statistically safe situation, but appreciated the unspoken support just the same.

Before we knew it, we had traversed all 23 zip lines expect one, and were now facing our last ride. We asked one of the tour guides to snap a quick shot, for posterity's sake. It was a beautiful, sometimes frightening, but extremely fun way to spend a day.

We were all so tired from the climbing, descending, more climbing, and all the adrenaline pumping through our veins for the past few hours. A quick trip through the gift shop, and we settled in for a relaxing shuttle bus back to our beloved Coco beach.