Sunburned knees

That´s what happens when you ride a motorcycle in shorts. Actually, a motorcycle is what it should have been, but Bob chose instead to rent a motor-scooter (thinking of my comfort as the passenger, and not having seen anything but pavement). The roads here on Ometepe are paved in parts, but mostly not, and in the unpaved sections they´re far worse than any Waldron road. The poor scooter made some bone-crunching contact with various ruts and cobbles, but we had a blast anyhow and managed to return it in one piece. When we rent another, it´ll be a regular motorcycle for sure.

Motorcycles are a pretty practical way to get around Ometepe, which is the largest island in fresh water in the world. About 30,000 people live here, ringed in small communities and fincas around the two volcanoes which make up the island´s twin centers. Ometepe just got electricity last year, and so services are few and far between. Buses run a couple times a day, moving so slowly that a ride across the island can take three hours or more on the bus. Taxis are also rare, and can cost $40 US to get across. Which is probably not unreasonable, considering the toll these roads would take on any wheeled vehicle.

We stopped today for a swim in a tropical grotto, where a spring is caught in a shaded pool before it spills over the far end and forms a little river. It´s called Ojo de Agua (“Eye of Water”), and it´s almost disgracefully picture-perfect, with parrots flying overhead and the trees alive with birdcalls. A few tables and chairs have been set under the lush greenery at the sides, and a little snack bar offers light meals and drinks. It might be the coolest body of water in Nicaragua, since it comes right out of the ground and hasn´t been touched by the endless heat. Although to be fair, Ometepe is cooler and fresher than the cities were. The lake is so huge that you can´t even see anything on the horizon — it´s like an ocean — and there is always a breeze.

It´s interesting to figure out how to penetrate into the farther reaches of the island. We decided to start out in the little port town of Moyogalpa, staying for two nights at a quirky but comfortable hotel run by an ex-pat American and his Italian wife. He´s a wealth of information, with an endless appetite for hanging out on the front step chain-smoking and chatting with his guests. This island is more touristy than most places in Nicaragua, but still so rough-edged that all but the most intrepid tourists would be discouraged. The vast majority of non-local visitors have sunbleached dreadlocks and sturdy twenty-five-year-old legs, and they come to hike up the volcanoes or work on the organic farms. Bob and I poked our heads into the hostel which is the center of their activity, and felt an odd tug from both the familiarity of the vibe and the realization of how out-of-place we would be there, now. It´s a dim warren of rainbows and beads and incense and reggae music … the sixties do still live on, in a few out of the way places.

Actually, one of the other places where we felt that old surge of brilliant-colored sixties energy was back in the city of Granada, two nights ago before we came down here. On Saturday night in Granada was a festival of street artists and musicians from all over Central America. It was entitled “Berrinche Ambiental”, which means something like “Environmental Tantrum”, and it was a passionate multi-media expression of Nicaragua´s need to protect its beautiful land. Children and teenagers and older people were clapping and singing along, and there were huge puppets and brilliantly painted-up dancers acting out all sorts of theatre pieces. We wore out after 4 hours or so, but it went on and on into the night, and it was good to be a part of.

Today on our travels, we came to the beach on the isthmus which separates the two round volcanic island halves from each other. It´s on the windward side, so the waves looked like they belonged on an ocean; still, charmed by the abundance of palm trees and flowers, we put a deposit down for tomorrow night on a little cabaña at the water´s edge.

Our internet access will vary in coming days, since we´ll be away from the only real town on the island. But we´re taking tons of photos, and trying hard to store up everything in our memories as well.