Granada made me feel. 3/5/15

I loved Granada! Perhaps because our tour guide Ramon is the #1 rated on Trip Advisor, perhaps because our group dynamics are just lovely, perhaps because, duh, Granada is steeped in cool geological and sociological history that morphs even today.

I loved hearing the story at the Handicraft market of how the locals in Mamaya celebrate October 17th commemorating the day that they demonstrated their resistance towards an oppressor by taking the cobblestones (that made up the streets) and making them into piles of rocks blocking the roads. Likewise, the locals in the town of Nindiri celebrate March 17th as the day that an eruption and lava flow bypassed their town when they asked a catholic priest to come pray with them. Oh, and who can forget the story about the building atop a hill that is currently being used by Boy Scouts of America… and previously was used to house prisoners of war before they were thrown into the mouth of the volcano as recently as fifty years ago. (Note to self: watch that episode of Ghost Hunters!)

Knowing Steve was going to spend Monday working, and very unimpressed with the guide who had been lined up while in Roatan (who pretended he didn’t speak English when it was convenient for him, and stood on coral reefs multiple times while “guiding” a snorkeling tour), I arrived late to Sunday’s planning meeting as I had no intention of doing any of the proposed activities. I think our entire group felt the same dubious hostility towards this stranger who walked in and tried to sell his tour, but like the professional that he is, Ramon sensed this and offered us a deal: “I really need to book tomorrow’s tour tonight to make everything optimal, but I want to prove this to you. So, look at TripAdvisor yourself to see if I’m lying to you, and let me give you a free walking tour of the historical city now, and if you want to come on tomorrow’s daytrip just let me know at the end of that.” Ten minutes into the walking tour, after seeing the burned façade of a church (one of Johnnie Walker’s offspring) and hearing my Great-great (x12) grandfather Francis Drake’s name dropped, and absorbing gossip about the richest family in the city while perusing a café with cheap “comida tipica,” I signed up for more.

So what would usually be an unappealling, day-long, exhausting trip was educational, fun, and even a bit relaxing.

We started with a quick stop at a grocery store for “whatever snacks you want,” which somehow really appeals to travelers who have been on the road for two weeks. I found a fresh, local goat cheese and some crackers… and a whole papaya (and learned you can eat papaya seeds, which are strong but not as spicy as a peppercorn, and are anti-parasitic). Then on our car drove, learning trivia and tongue-twisters and hearing local lore along the way, until we arrived at the Mamaya Volcan National Park — and Ramon enthusiastically rushed us out of the van when he spotted the national bird, Mamasa Superior (or something like that), otherwise known as the Motmot, with a beautiful green-gold tail that ticks back and forth like a pendulum in the wind. Approach for photo let to flight of bird, so onward to a visitor center we drove, where a very detailed geography lesson got interspersed with stories of virgins getting tossed into volcanoes and monks erecting crosses to stave off the “gates of hell.”

With winds blowing in the “right” direction, we were able to spend a significant amount of time looking into the smoky cauldron of a crater one active crater, and hike up to see another dormant crater.

The rest of the day is pleasantly fuzzy around the edges, since Ramon started serving out the “national drink of Guatemala.” We stopped for a “tipico” lunch where we shopped for local handicrafts (window-shopped in my case) at the market where the citizens were famous for transforming cobblestone streets into civil resistance roadblocks. I ate a dish of Vigoron, (steamed cassava, a cabbage slaw, and pork skins) which Nicaragua is known for, and I didn’t hate it but probably wouldn’t order again. I loved that Ramon ate with us, even showing his “real” side when he griped about being especially tired because of a window-changing home improvement project after the previous owner of his house built it poorly.

Then our group was shuttled to a crater lake, where we were welcomed into a resort with paddleboards, kayaks, unlimited coffee, and of course more cocktails. The views from above were majestic, and even despite some raindrops our group donned our swimwear and let energy loose in the choppy fresh water, shuttling coolers and even “La Reina” Wendy (who can’t swim) to the dock, which rocked vigorously in the shifting weather.

Somehow, Ramon coaxed us out of the water, back into the van, and onward to a sunset cruise around Lake Nicaragua, including an island where a veterinarian had dropped off three monkeys who excitedly swooped up the bananas offered by our guide (and whose dietary habits, Dr. Ru and I noted, were likely suboptimal as evidenced by protruding abdomens and rectal prolapse). There was singing, there was a sunset, there were many silly photos, and there was tree climbing, before the tour ended at our hotel in a happy mess of drunken gringos.

As I have often noted, people may not remember everything you said to them, but they will remember how you made them feel. And Granada made me feel.