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.