We have officially left La Mariposa and successfully launched into the outside world.  More about that tomorrow.  But yesterday, on our last night, was the excursion I was most looking forward to — a night tour of the Volcan Masaya.  Despite my high expectations, this trip still blew them all away.

Volcan Masaya is a national park, but down here that doesn’t mean the same thing as it does at home.  However, in this case we found that Nicaragua has really done a good job with this place.  Our first stop was the visitor center/museum, which was the equal of any I’ve been in in the US national parks — large scale models of the area, lots of interesting information about the volcano and the plants and animals that live here, and beautiful artwork.

But of course the real star is the volcano itself.  It has seven craters, of which only one (the Santiago crater) is still active.  And I read that this is one of only two places in the world where you can drive right up to the crater’s edge and peer into the depths, until you’re blinded and/or asphyxiated by the acrid smoke pouring from it.  Cars are instructed to park facing out, so a quick getaway is possible in case of an eruption, and people are advised to stay in the area for no more than 20 minutes, because of the fumes.  (Interestingly, a group of parrots has evolved to live inside the crater itself, undisturbed by any predators.)

We were able to hike around and even a little bit into the crater, and along a ridge that passed by two adjacent (inactive) craters.  Next we headed up to the highest point in the park, along a steep path covered in loose gravel.  (We thought getting up it was hard, but it was nothing to trying to get back down.)  The view would have been spectacular in any circumstances — from a narrow ridgeline, we could see for miles in every direction, chains of volcanoes and green valleys stretching to the horizon — but Richard had timed our trip so that we could watch the sun setting through the smoke of the crater.  Words and photos don’t do it justice.

A short panorama view:

http://youtu.be/dWcZHyHcXhs

Up, up, up the hill

As if that wasn’t enough, we were then equipped with helmets and flashlights and led to the nearby caves.  These are actually lava tubes, formed by rivers of hot lava coursing through the mountain.  We stood just outside the first cave (all three girls in front of the pack), turned off our lights…and watched some of the cave’s thousands of bats emerge in droves for their evening hunting. I must admit I ducked into a crouch (and was grateful for my helmet, lest a bat crash into/poop on me), but looking up I could see the bats coursing all around Bob’s head.  (Our guide helpfully explained that these are not vampire bats, but insectivores.)

The bats emerge:

http://youtu.be/NWd-DulWoh4

Finally, Richard had one more treat in store — we walked along a bit to another cave, where we were able to walk about a third of a mile into the mountain.  The cave formations were lovely, and there were plenty of bats here, too.  At one point, in the deepest depths of the cave (where indigenous tribes once prepared their victims for human sacrifice in the volcano) Richard had everyone turn off their lights and be totally silent.  I don’t think we’ve ever experienced such darkness before, with no sensory input except the soft flutter of bats’ wings.  (I ducked down at this point as well.)

Creepy looking things, aren’t they?

Our tour ended, we emerged under a blanket of stars brighter than I ever remember seeing.  There’s not much light pollution in Nicaragua.

This place alone is reason enough to come to Nicaragua, in my opinion.  Any one of our experiences would have made the trip worthwhile.  This would be an A-1 tourist destination anywhere in the world, but down here is still enough off the beaten path that we didn’t have to deal with crowds or the excessive levels of regulation that unfortunately must accompany them.  And the whole experience was $10 per person.  We won’t soon forget it.

We’ve been in a bit of a cocoon during our stay at La Mariposa, but during our various excursions (on foot and by van) we’ve seen a little of the country as well.  It’ll be interesting to see how similar the other regions are to this one.

Schoolwork with a view

One thing you notice right away is the weather.  I thought that the whole Northern Hemisphere would share the same seasons, but February is considered summer down here.  It’s the dry season, which means almost no rain.  As a result, there is dust everywhere.  All of our walks have resulted in very dirty feet, and Lanie (due to her constant contact with dogs and with the ground) pretty much walks around in a cloud of dirt, like Pigpen from Peanuts.  (Fortunately the flies have not yet appeared.)  When I wash my hands before dinner, I’m always surprised at the brown water coming off them, even if I haven’t been doing much of anything.

Compounding the dirt is the shortage of water here.  The dry season is always a challenge, and climate change has made things worse.  Although we have a free-flowing supply of water in our bathroom, we’re asked to conserve as much as possible.  We know we’re in a place where a lack of water can lead directly to families going hungry, so we have been minimizing our water usage as much as possible — which means brief and infrequent showers.  “Clean” is relative here, when it comes to us and our clothes.

This monkey really wants to bite my finger off.

The region where we’re staying is mountainous and mostly rural, with occasional villages dotted along the roads.  These are filled with various storefronts, as it seems that most people are selling something from their homes to produce or supplement their incomes.  For instance, one home in the nearest village has four TVs with video-game consoles in the main room, and these are rented by the hour to the local kids.

Some of the shells we found at the beach.

Most of the houses outside the village center seem to have animals in their yards — bulls and cows, chickens, pigs.  And dogs are ubiquitous.  Most of them are running free through the town, so it’s fortunate that they generally seem to be well-behaved.  Life is mostly lived outside, at least in the summer.  Cooking, laundry, and lounging are all done in the outdoors.

We’re very happy with our decision to avoid renting a car here.  The roads are narrow, vary widely in quality, and have random speed bumps in the middle of towns.  People seem to drive as fast as they can, tooting the horn and weaving in and out amongst pedestrians, bicycles, the three-wheeled motor taxis, and livestock.  And they have a very different idea of the maximum carrying capacity of a vehicle.  The other day on our trip to the beach, the van filled up and so the driver put stools into the aisle for people to sit on.  Others perched on a ledge behind the driver’s seat, facing backwards.  I’ve heard that the buses are even worse (I guess we’ll find out on Wednesday).  In Masaya the other night, I saw a whole family — mother, father, young child, and infant — riding a single bicycle.

A walk through the hills behind La Mariposa

Though many of the houses here would barely qualify as shacks at home, we haven’t noticed a great deal of extreme poverty (or extreme wealth, for that matter).  La Mariposa is essentially a non-profit and donates a lot of goods and labor (as well as providing jobs) for the local community, so that may be making a difference here.  It’s inspiring to see the many young guides we’ve had at various locations, who are so enthusiastic and well-versed in the area’s flora, fauna, and history.

The smoking crater of Volcan Masaya, as seen from the top of the hill at La Mariposa.

The rock walls had several political paintings. This was an active area for the Sandinista rebellion and there are still strong loyalties.

Yesterday was Sunday, when we traditionally have a choice between a guided hike and a horseback ride.  Nadia and Lanie really wanted to ride again, so Bob took the hit and went with them while Zoe and I went on the hike.

We weren’t sure exactly what it would entail, but we met up with our guides (and a translator from La Mariposa) and headed a couple of villages over.  We found ourselves walking down a steep track that had been blasted out of the sheer rock that rose on our right, with a steep drop into a valley on our left.  It turned out that we descending inside one of the (inactive) craters of the Volcan Masaya.  (We learned that it has seven craters, only one of which is active.  That’s the one we see smoking in the distance whenever we drive or walk anywhere.)  In the distance was a beautiful lake, the Laguna Masaya.

We got to ride in the back of the pickup!

Laguna Masaya in the background

Eventually we came to a sign saying we were entering the Volcan Masaya National Park.  Not exactly like what you’d see at a US National Park — there was no entrance kiosk, no rangers, no parking lot — just a dusty track continuing down the trail.  It wasn’t totally clear what the boundaries of the park were, but even after we passed the sign we saw a man tending bulls, pockets of agriculture, a tiny two-room school (that holds the village’s 14 children) and the ruins of an old house near the lakeshore (that had apparently been built by someone who was president of Nicaragua for three days).  There were no other tourists that we could see, just a few Nicaraguans working, fishing, or doing their laundry.  (We’ll be visiting the more-touristed Santiago crater for a night hike tomorrow.)

After this the short-lived president’s mysterious departure, the house was bought by a German who lived there until the 90s.  He set up a zoo on the premises.  We saw the remains of a large round enclosure

Inadequate crocodile enclosure

near the lake, and were told that it used to hold his crocodiles.  However, one day in the rainy season the lake flooded, and you can guess what happened.  And so to this day, there is a small colony of crocodiles that lives in the lake.

We were also brought, in groups of five, into the “bat house” — the crumbling remains of the oldest house in the village, which now houses a colony of bats.  They were flying around much more than I expected, but luckily none of them came too close.  (Many of you have heard my traumatic bat-in-the-bedroom story and I’m still not fully recovered.)

A fisherman shows us his catch

A scenic spot for laundry

We walked a fair way around the lakeshore, with our guides pointing out various birds, trees, and other natural features.  It was incredibly beautiful, though sadly rimmed with trash.  Trash is a big problem here.  Much of it is burned, but you see it everywhere.  The city of Masaya is on the far side of the lake, and when Zoe and I were there we saw drainage canals (dry at this time of year) full of trash.  When the rains come, it will all be washed into the laguna.  So this was not a place for swimming (though we did see a couple of Nicaraguans in it).

Bob finally gets his turn at the pinata.  The dancing ladies would have been proud.

This afternoon we split up again.  Bob walked up the steep hill to the village of La Concha to try to catch a baseball game.  The rest of us worked on schoolwork and then treated ourselves to ice cream in the village of San Juan (downhill).  We also got some more candy for the final pinata, which we dispatched (unfortunately without the festive music) when we got back.

Bob and I spent some time post-dinner down on the terrace having a drink with several of the other guests, in honor of our friend Sekar from San Francisco who’s leaving tomorrow (but were still in bed by 9:30).  Back to class tomorrow morning!

Crew at La Mariposa. There’s a real diversity here — people young and old, from various countries of origin.

We’ve settled into a nice routine here at La Mariposa.  It’s been an extremely easy way to get our feet wet in Central America, since all our needs are taken care of and we pretty much just have to show up.

The food here is great, and this is probably the healthiest we’ve ever eaten.  Lots of fresh fruit, vegetables, and (of course) beans and rice.  The other thing Bob and I are noticing is we aren’t snacking, and we aren’t missing it.  Out of sight is out of mind when it comes to junk food, and this confirms that most of our snacking is probably due to cravings or boredom rather than actual hunger.  (Of course, the girls are still the first ones to race out during the occasional visits of the ice cream man.)

Monkey at La Mariposa. He grabs us when we walk by if we’re not careful.

Our day begins with breakfast at 7:15.  Well, except on the days when Lanie drags us up with her to do her “morning rounds”.  She does several laps around the garden, stopping frequently to pet some of the many dogs and cats that abound here (and for some reason infuriating the monkeys, who reach out and bare their teeth as we barrel past).

I think that Bismark did not feel that I was very talented at coffee-making, but was too polite to say so.

Anyway, back to breakfast.  Every day there is a huge platter of very fresh, ripe fruit — bananas, watermelon, cantaloupe, papaya — most of it grown in the gardens here.  The coffee is grown here too.  (The other day I walked to the gardens with my teacher and was able to try my hand at crushing the shells off the beans.  They do it old-school here, with a big stone bowl and a very large wooden club.  I appreciated the coffee more after I gave it a try.)  There’s also granola, cornflakes, and bread.  A little later the kitchen ladies bring out a hot breakfast too.  This varies quite a bit — scrambled eggs with tomatoes, rice and beans, crepes, oatmeal.

At 8am they sound the chimes for the first class.  We meet with our individual teachers and scatter throughout the grounds to various nooks that hold our outdoor classrooms.  We each have one two-hour grammar class and one two-hour conversation class per day.  Today in my grammar class I had to take a 1+hour-long test of regular and irregular verbs (conjugations, and using in a sentence).  By the end I was exhausted and desperate to be finished.

The unfinished pinatas

The finished pinatas (yes, “angry birds” theme)

We have a brief break around 10am, then begin our second class.  For our conversation classes, we sometimes walk around the grounds or into town to talk to people.  The girls have had a week-long project of making pinatas.  Today was the culmination, and most of the school ended up gathering around for the festivities.   We were given a dance lesson and then attacked the pinata in turns.  (Apparently here you’re supposed to dance while doing this.  Below is a video where Heidi demonstrates the proper procedure.)

Folklore show at the Mercado Masaya.

Lunch follows around noon.  (Interestingly, there is fresh fruit juice at lunch and dinner, but not at breakfast.)  After lunch we usually have some free time, and then an optional excursion.  We’ve gone on most of them, but have skipped a few that don’t return until late at night.  Last night was one such trip, to the famous (but in my opinion rather disappointing) markets of Masaya, and Zoe and I went along and left the others at home.  Overall it was not the most exciting of excursions, but Lanie and I did get new dresses:

Lanie made it a project to take photos of every animal here. I have a lot of these.

Dinner is at 6, and usually includes some kind of dessert.  Afterwards we read or relax, and generally head to bed fairly early.  (We’ve grown accustomed to the roosters/dogs/etc. and are sleeping much better these days).

The weather here is beautiful — around 80 and sunny every day, with no humidity.  To our surprise, mosquitoes and other bugs seem to be quite limited.  (Our beds have mosquito nets, but we haven’t had to use them — except Lanie, who considers hers a canopy.)  Most of our living is done outside, as seems to be the case for the country as a whole.  Our meals are eaten on a terrace overlooking the gardens.  We read and work on our balcony.  This is our de facto living room:

The best thing about this place is the freedom we all feel.  The kids have the run of the place — the abundant greenery makes it feel large, but it’s small enough that they’re never far out of our sight.  There are no other kids here (except a 1-year-old who arrived yesterday), but the other guests have been very welcoming (and our kids, perhaps desperate for conversation with someone who (a) is not in their family and (b) speaks English, are often ready to talk their ears off).  Lanie has taken up busking after dinner, and has gathered up several coins in her violin case.  Zoe loves to do laundry.  And Nadia has made several friends here, whom she regularly chats with about horses and what we’ve done that day and horses.

It will be tough emerging from our cocoon here, and having to deal with our own transportation and meals and entertainment (and without Richard the head guide to translate for us and tell us what’s what).  But I think we’re feeling ready to face the wide world again.

The kids’ side of our family room is painted with beautiful murals

The girls’ Spanish class

We’re back in the thick of our Spanish classes again, and they are proving to be challenging. Today, one of my teachers gave me the terrifying news that tomorrow she and I are going to walk into town where I can practice by talking to random people.  I know from experience just how this will go: after much thought, I will slowly manage to put a sentence together (most likely in the wrong verb tense and with incorrect genders), and then I will nod, smile, and stare blankly as I listen to a reply that I don’t remotely understand.  I also discovered that apparently yesterday, while I was smiling and nodding, she was telling me that on Friday I have to give some kind of presentation.  I haven’t yet figured out what this entails, but I’m hoping to get some hints tomorrow without having to flat-out admit that yo no comprendo.

El mono!

This afternoon we traveled to a nature preserve, El Chocoyero.  (After initially seeing it on the schedule, we were a bit disappointed to realize that in fact it has nothing to do with chocolate.)  The ride was beautiful — we’re in the mountains here, with steep green hillsides rising and falling to the horizon, and an active volcano smoking in the distance — but we now understand why in Central America it can take an hour to travel a few miles.  After leaving the main road, we were on a rutted dirt track that descended steeply into a sharp valley — so sharp that at times we felt like we were driving through a tunnel, with almost vertical dirt walls pressing in on either side.  After bouncing around in the van for what seemed like forever, we arrived at El Chocoyero.

The holes where the birds nest

This place’s claim to fame is its bright green parakeet, the chocoyo.  They travel in large packs, and live in tunnels in a rock wall beside a waterfall.  We had a guided tour through the reserve, timed so that we would arrive at the waterfall to see the birds returning to their holes for the night.  During the walk, we also saw (and heard) our first wild monkeys!  There were also many interesting trees and plants, but I didn’t get to hear much about these because for some reason Lanie became obsessed with discussing the theme of her next birthday party (in September) and could not be silenced.

Upon our return, it was time for dinner and a small celebration.  Today being Bob’s birthday, I had asked the kitchen ladies if it would be possible to buy a cake.  One of them agreed to go home and make one during the day, to be ready for after dinner.  I was expecting something small and modest, but when it was unveiled it was quite impressive:

It fed the whole compound here, with plenty left over.

Granada cemetery (that’s a real bird!)

On Saturdays La Mariposa offers up full-day excursions for those with enough energy to take them on.  Accordingly, yesterday at 8 am we were piling into the butterfly-festooned van for a trip to the city of Granada.

The trip took about an hour in the van, but the girls kept themselves entertained by playing “Stop the Bus” through the whole alphabet.  (This game involves thinking up three categories, then picking a letter and seeing who can first think of something in each category that starts with that letter.)  Before long the whole back half of the van (none of whom were under 50) were playing along.  The nice elderly British gentleman sitting next to Zoe got quite enthusiastic and won several rounds before his wife told him to cut it out.  (His entries for “book character” were things like “Agamemnon” and “Beowulf,” while the rest of us were basically coming up with Harry Potter characters.)

Granada is a lovely Colonial-era city, with palm-lined boulevards and brightly-colored houses.   One side is bordered by the enormous Lake Nicaragua, so big that it looks like an ocean.  Another has the Mombacho volcano looming up over it.   Almost every building seems to have a beautiful open-air courtyard at its center, filed with greenery and sunshine and blue sky.

Bell tower at La Merced

It’s probably the most touristy spot in Nicaragua, and accordingly has a lot of tourist activities.  For the first part of the day, Richard from La Mariposa showed us some highlights — a gorgeous cemetery where the rich are buried (“mucho dinero”), an old fortress, the Colonial Merced church, where we could climb up in the bell tower and see sweeping views of the city.  Our family almost decided to skip out on the cigar factory tour, but in the end it was lucky we didn’t.  The “tour” consisted of a quick stop to watch two people rolling and wrapping cigars, but Lanie managed to charm the workers enough that when she noticed a huge parrot in a cage in the courtyard, they took him out and let him sit on our shoulders (adults only, sadly).

We did break off before the next museum, choosing a horse-drawn carriage ride around the city instead.  Our driver initially stopped at most of the places we’d already visited with Richard, but the girls just took the opportunity to get out and pet the horses (who incidentally were named “Mercedes” and “Benz”).  He also brought us down to the shore of the lake, where powerful winds swept into the city and whipped the water into whitecaps (making me glad we’d decided to skip the rather expensive boat tour later that afternoon).

We met up with the group again for lunch, and the restaurant did not seem well-equipped to deal with a group of our size.  Our food came at wildly varying times, and poor Lanie (who’d ordered the simplest of meals, pancakes) didn’t get her food for an hour and a half, after everyone else had finished (and I had reminded the waitstaff three separate times).  However, it was popular with Zoe, who’s grown a bit tired of rice and beans and greatly enjoyed her bacon cheeseburger.

Batta batta chocolatta!

Friday I googled, “what to do in Granada with kids” and one thing that kept popping up was the Choco Museo.  We mentioned this on the van ride in and many in the group seemed very interested in the idea.  In the end, Jane from Colorado decided to skip the boat ride and join us.  We arrived just in time to join in the 1.5-hour chocolate-making class, and soon we were wearing aprons and dancing around a fire chanting, “Batta batta chocolatta” (or something along those lines) while we stirred the roasting beans,  After we shelled them and ground them to paste with our mortars and pestles, the teacher used the paste to make two drinks — one like the Aztecs used to prepare (with honey, hot water, cinnamon, and chili pepper), and the other in the Spanish tradition (with sugar, hot milk, cinnamon, and vanilla).  And the crowning glory was when we were each given a bowl of chocolate and allowed to pour our own bar, mixing in our choice of a wide range of ingredients.  (Lanie went with peanut butter/marshmallow/sea salt, and Zoe and Nadia had some sort of concoctions involving coffee and cinnamon.)  The variety of chocolate down here is different than what we’re used to, but very good.  Even the roasted beans plain were pretty tasty.

Disaster threatened when he told us to return for the bars in an hour and a half, and we needed to meet our bus in 20 minutes.  Luckily, a quick trip into the freezer allowed them to expedite the process for us.  We made it back to the van only a few minutes late (and considerably stickier).  The boat trip people all regarded us enviously.

The girls head down the stairs from our room to explore

As peaceful as this place seems in the daytime, after dark the volume goes way up. Our first night’s sleep was repeatedly interrupted by birds squawking, dogs barking, and a rooster who crowed repeatedly ALL NIGHT LONG. (Last night we were smart enough to crank up the fan, not because it’s hot but to create some white noise.)

Despite this, Nadia and Lanie were up at 6am, clattering around unpacking their suitcases, looking out the windows, and talking in what they may have mistakenly believed were soft voices. Eventually we couldn’t contain them anymore and they, followed closely by Zoe, headed out to explore the gardens outside our room. There were large wire enclosures holding rescued birds and monkeys, and friendly dogs everywhere. (There are a lot of stray dogs here, and this place takes them in.) The grounds here are very secluded and private, and the kids have the run of the place. They were in heaven.

Bob is dutifully doing his homework right after class ended. The rest of us procrastinated.

At 7:15am we were called to breakfast. There are no other kids here at the moment, but in general everyone was very welcoming of them. (At breakfast time we were looking around for Lanie, to tell her to come and eat, and eventually found she was already at the head of the line, being helped by some random other guests.) Then it was time for Spanish class. The classes here are one-on-one, and we were each assigned two teachers — one for two hours of conversation practice, and one for two hours of grammar lessons. Then off we went with our teachers to separate corners of the compound. Our “classrooms” were little nooks with chairs and whiteboards tucked into the balconies and treehouses scattered through the grounds. The sun was shining, a breeze was blowing, and it didn’t feel much like work at all (except when I had to take a test that I’m sure I failed pretty miserably).

Not a bad life.

Fresh bananas for the taking!

The girls’ lessons were well tailored to their ages. Lanie played Uno with her teacher to learn colors and numbers, and they all got to walk around the grounds during their lessons as a break from sitting still. I think they’ll be happy to go back for more tomorrow.

Yesterday afternoon we signed up for the day’s excursion — a trip to the finca de pina (pineapple farm), a beautiful place tucked into the mountains. It was a far cry from the industrial farms of the US. Along the dirt track beside the field there were plantain, mango, and coconut trees, one of which held a nest with a mother bird and her chicks. Tomato plants grew in between the rows. When asked about pests, the farmer mentioned that foxes sometimes eat the pineapples — and when asked if he did anything to control them, the he shrugged and said, “Foxes have the right to eat too.” (Mind you, all of this was in Spanish. Bob was the only one in our group who appeared to understand most of what was being said, but fortunately the guide from our school provided some translations.) The girls were starting to drag a bit by the end, but were quickly revived by bowls of fresh pineapple. It was a different variety than we typically get in the US — paler, softer and juicier.

The next stop was what they were really waiting for — dinner at an open-air restaurant that had a pool. Our group from the school had some moments of confusion about the proper procedures, since our guide disappeared when we went in, but we soon sorted it out and had food ordered (and kids in the pool). We were all confused by the menu, so our family just ordered a “family platter” with some things that sounded vaguely familiar. It turned out to be delicious, and a great sampling of Nicaraguan cuisine. (All the meals served at the school are vegetarian, so this may have been the last meat we’ll have for a while.) Bob and I ordered local beers, which turned out to taste pretty much like Budweiser (but since they cost about $1, we didn’t complain).

Then back to La Mariposa for some family reading (Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban).  Bob made note of the fact that the temporally-challenged rooster did not start crowing until 10:14pm.  Tomorrow I’m tempted to continually poke him with a stick during the daytime so that he’ll sleep at night.

At the finca de pina