2014 - Day 20 - Third USA Trip - Nicaragua

*Today was just simply not funny.  I can’t even pretend to try and write funny today*

Thank heavens.  Today we arrived in San Juan Del Sur, Nicaragua.  I was fairly sure the ship had taken a wrong turn, and we would end up in the same place as Malaysian Airlines MH370. Too soon?

This was the biggest load of bullshit of a day that I have ever experienced.  First of all, it was a matter of getting 2000 passengers across to the mainland, all in time to start their respective tours.  This meant collating them in one area on the ship, where we had stickers placed on our shirts (I wanted one that said “Number 1 Princess” but had to be satisfied with one that said “Brown 3”. Not happy Jan) like kindergarten children and told to sit in rows in one of the theatres.  We had to stay there until our “sticker name” was called. 

A shower of rain went over whilst everyone was waiting in the theatre, and apparently that meant that all transfers to shore had to cease for the time being.  This meant being stuck in the theatre for an extended period of time, with me sitting right beside a lady who was wearing copious quantities of “Essence of Garlic”.  I had to appear deeply engrossed in my passport in an effort to shields my nostrils from the revolting smell.   Given that I can only flick through the pages of my passport 1000 times before it starts looking suspicious, I thought I would try to buy myself time with some clean air and went in search of the closest loo.  I know that clean air and loo do not go together, however I decided that it might be an idea for me to go before going ashore.  The weakened bladders of the elderly are very contagious!

At the bathrooms there was a large line up, no doubt due to the fact that most of the public restrooms on board were broken.  It might have seemed more simple to come back up to our stateroom however if my sticker number was called telling me that it was time to go, and then I would be unable to hear it.  That meant….I had to stand in the line.  By the time I got to the top of the line I was actually busting to go.  As it turned out, there definitely were a few toilets not working hence our delay.  I was very relieved to finally be at the top of the queue and to see a cubicle become vacant.  An elderly woman around 80 years old walked out of the cubicle and hobbled cross legged past her.  Slamming the door I spun around…….and stopped.  There on the toilet seat, was a decent sized nugget.  And when I say nugget….I don’t mean of the gold kind.   The dear (?????) old thing had left a deposit on the toilet seat…..and her used toilet paper was on the floor. 

To say I was disgusted would have been a gross understatement.  I briefly toyed with the idea of leaving that cubicle and waiting again at the back of the line.  This thought was quickly dispelled given that I was on the verge of peeing my pants, and also because the person that walked in after me would think that I was the grub that did it.  This left me with only one choice – I had to clean it.   First though I filed a mental image in my head of the woman who had left the cubicle before me so that I could absolutely throttle her if I came across her again. I am assuming she wiped her butt and thought she flicked the paper in the toilet however given that the paper did not make it in, a piece of the Polly waffle has landed on the seat. I mean seriously, how does a person do this?  I grabbed a good 6 rolls of toilet paper and took care of the issue before taking care of my own tinkle, and washing my hands 3000 times at least.   I could not believe it.  I could not….believe it.

I took my place back in the kindergarten, in between the Bear and Garlic Breath and waited patiently for “Brown 3” to be called.  When this was eventually called we lined up in a way that Old MacDonald would have been absolutely thrilled with.  We were not cows and sheep anymore.  We were one big melting pot of the whole barnyard going through the line single file without having to be poked with a cattle prod.  We are not on the Island Princess.  We are on the frigging Ark.  We took our places on the tender taking us to the mainland, and looked forward to our day in Nicaragua.

The buses (rusted metal on bald tyres) met us at the pier and we were introduced to our tour guides.  I have no idea what the name of ours was because I couldn’t understand a word he said.  I am sure it would have been something like Manuel, Jorge or Carlos though.  The bus stunk horrendously of mould however we managed to overcome this smell by taking up the only seats left on the bus, those right next to the extraordinarily revolting loo.  This was made worse by one old guy who obviously felt the need to take the dump from hell not long after departing (the tour guy then told the bus that you are not meant to do “Number 2s” on the bus but that ship had already sailed) however it did relieve our pain for just a little while as it literally knocked us out.   This was going to be a dreadful 2 hour journey to Grenada chockers full of the nearly departed.

Nicaragua is a poor, poverty stricken country that has yet to recover from its war.  They have only been in peace time since 1990 and I dare say it will take another 50 years at least to rebuild in full.   I cannot imagine living in a place like this especially given that war on their doorstep is a not too distant memory.  Like anywhere though, if you want to survive, you have to work.  I wanted to save every animal I saw though.  Dogs and horses looked very hungry and in fact, one sight (a dog on a rope) brought me very close to tears.  This was only stopped by the fact that I was in the company of a large amount of people.

On the way to Grenada we stopped on the edge of Lake Nicaragua to look at Mombacho and Concepcion Volcanoes. These are two active volcanoes which hold an almost perfect cone shape.   Its quite mind blowing actually being so close to an active volcano although I really hoped that I wouldn’t be seeing an eruption today.  My head had already had enough today and we were still an hour and a half from Grenada.  

The roads were not that bad although the lack of shockies in the rust bucket did some serious damage to our teeth.  It was ok for the old folk who had dentures as they could just put them in their pockets.  Those on the bus that still had their own teeth (and I could count those….on 2 fingers) became people that most dentists dream of.  Fortunately with very little more than 1 tooth left in our heads, we felt that we might fit in a little bit more than we have so far. That as well as the broken hips that we now had.

We arrived in Grenada after what seemed like a lifetime, and immediately went through a monastery which is now a museum of sorts.  Before entering we were swarmed by a stack of local children who wanted to give us a “free” gift – a flower made out of some plant like material – possibly dried palm frond or sugar cane.  This “gift” came with a trap.  You take it….you then pay for it.  They request money for food and will literally then follow you through the town until you give them money.  That is….unless you are the Bear and I. Despite the poverty in this country, the children showed obvious signs of not using the money for food so we were not going to part with our dollars.   There also were probably 50 of them begging, so even if we did fall for the scam, we could not have afforded it for each child.  Once you didn’t pay up to them, they snatched the flower back out of our hands (if we were stupid enough to accept one for fear of offending them) and went on to the next unsuspecting soul.   Pickpockets were also a problem and it was very evident when they were trying to “cop a feel”.   On top of this, we had people shoving their wares directly in our faces over and over and over as we walked through the old town and who also refused to take no for an answer.  This including one very feminine ladyboy who had the head of a woman, the chest of a man, and I am stuffed if I know below the waist.  He/she wore makeup with perfectly coiffed hair but a bloke’s tank top and shorts, with a black bra on an extremely flat chest.  He/she needed a shave though, so that was a bit of a giveaway. 

The tour guide was very clear when he wanted everyone ready to go by a certain time.  We were already an hour behind schedule due to the debacle that occurred this morning, and not only did we have to try and make up that time, we also had to try to outrun the obligatory storm that occurs in the afternoons there.   Between the begging children, the pushy vendors, the ridiculous humidity and the pending storm, my head was banging harder than it has in its life.  I just wanted to get through the long journey back to San Juan Del Sur where the ship was moored where it was cool and we could get something to eat.   

That’s when one of the old farts went missing.  *brain explosion*

We sat in the smelly bus whilst a search party was sent to find the missing old man, and after another 45 minutes or so, he was found.  No excuse given.   I have the strangest feeling that he went for a massage which included a “happy ending”.  We departed, now two hours late, for San Juan Del Sur, with the rain now pouring.    Just when I thought our day could not be any more uncomfortable, rain started pouring through somewhere above my head.  So this was why the place smelt like mould?  Because there was a damned leak that no-one had fixed?  The Bear and I had to squash together which, with his 6’3” height and my 5 foot roundness, made life evening more interesting than it already was. 

We finally made it back to the ship not long before it was meant to depart from the port.  We were glad to have seen Nicaragua however were even more glad to say goodbye to it.    I just hope to hell that Costa Rica is much better tomorrow.