"Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get."...or get stolen

We arrived into San Carlos, Nicaragua at 5 am just in time to see the sun rise over the Rio San Juan. It had been a smooth ride, but we had gotten little sleep-- the old school Sylvester Stallone movies dubbed in Spanish didn't help. We found a hotel room at 6 am, ate breakfast, and set out on a walkabout around the town. It had a bit of a border town feeling, but was nice enough. Leah wasn't feeling well, so she slept for a good part of the afternoon and evening and I dined alone in the bus station "food court" (a bunch of people yelling at you, "What do you want my love? Come here, we have what you need.") As soon as you pick a place, their heads turn, arms go down and their eyes search out the next hungry victim. I ordered gallo pinto and huevos (beans and rice mixed with eggs on the side) and the young girls next to me shyly tried out their English on me as I ate. On my way back to the hotel I stopped to buy some baby wipes (aka showers when we have no other option) and got a 30 minute lecture from the store clerk with his bible in hand about how I need to return to the bible and subsequently Jesus. He asked if he could give me a bible and I told him that I travel on bike and don't have space. He tried to tell me they are plenty small, so I told him I can get them for free when I get home. I went back to the hotel and joined Leah in slumber. After 3 hours I woke up with a bloated belly...uh oh. I took myself outside to the railing over the river, stuck my finger in my mouth and pulled the trigger. Gallo pinto and huevos hit the water in the moonlight and I watched the little fish go nuts on a midnight snack. I didn't feel any better in the morning and my appetite was gone. We caught the 10:30 am boat that took us from San Carlos, Nicaragua to Los Chiles, Costa Rica via the Rio Frio-- we were leaving Nicaragua for good.

saw a bull shark fin (the only type of freshwater shark in the world and it lives in Lake Nicaragua). Once we entered Costa Rica we started seeing another kind of life we hadn't seen since Belize, conventional tourists. They were on tours of the river and we were quite shocked by how many we saw in this out of the way place in the low season. We arrived in Los Chiles, Costa Rica, got our passports stamped, and made for Upala via a dirt road "shortcut" throughAlong the river we saw some crocodiles, caiman, many river birds, howler monkeys, and I even the Caño Negro wildlife refuge. After about 30 km of very loose rocky road, I had to stop. I wasn't feeling well at all. We found a house with a yard to camp at and I went to bed without dinner. I hardly slept, donning a fever throughout the night and waking up sweat drenched (despite the cold wet socks and tylenol dose after dose). In the morning, the diarrhea hit-- it was on. We set our sights for Upala and got a hotel room where we holed up for the next couple of nights. Leah took care of me during my high fevers and in between running to the bathroom. Finally, after two days of fevers, she decided it was time to break out the secret weapon from our arsenal a.k.a. pharmacy-- the antibiotics. Meanwhile, Leah being Leah was praying that the antibiotics would work, thereby quelling her fear that I had dengue or the big M, malaria that is. Just a couple of hours later I started feeling much better and in the morning I had my appetite back. After one more day of rest, we decided that even more therapeutic than a "habitacion con ventilador" in Upala (although it was a nice town and we didn't see another gringo there) would be the hot springs near Volcan Miravalles.

The 50 km ride took us on dirt road out of the Northern lowlands and into the Cordillera de Guanacaste (Guanacaste mountain range). We skirted around the north and west sides of Volcan Miravalles, gaining a couple of thousand feet of elevation which wasn't easy considering we still aren't back in pre-Managua climbing shape. At the peak of our climb in Armenia, we met a man who shared some agua manzanas (water or mountain apples) with us and a woman staring at us from a nearby store followed his lead and provided us with some much appreciated refreshement in the form of more agua manzanas. We rode toward Aguas Claras enjoying the mountain roads and vistas. We were in the land of fincas (small farms or ranches) and as we passed one dairy, I noticed they were milking so we stopped to have a look. We met Elfin, the owner, and he told us about their family farm. They had 35 milking cows and sold their milk to Dos Pinos, the largest seller of dairy products in Costa Rica and other parts of Central America as well (ice cream, cheese, milk, cream, you name it, if it's from a cow, they sell it). It was really neat to find out that such a large corporation buys primarily from small farmers. Hopefully not just a romantic concept. He proudly showed us around his barn (including the wild "forest turkeys" that had taken up residence) and how his milking operation worked with the machines. I asked him if we could try it "a mano" (by hand) and he smiled. He found us a good cow (long teets- easier milking) and he showed us how to do it. It looked easy and I squatted down with confidence. My first squirt had 1/4 the power of Elfin's, not to mention I missed the bucket. The subsequent three tries were a repeat-- man I really suck at this. Finally, I hit the bucket twice in a row and then missed again. I felt bad wasting the milk and gave Leah a shot. Leah was better than me and hit the bucket every time minus the time she squirted me on purpose. Elfin took over and showed us how it was done. His squirts had the power of a super soaker and the accuracy of a summer water fight sniper. When he was finished, he filled up a glass with the milk we had just "made" and gave it to us to try. It was frothy, creamy, thick, sweet, warm, and delicious! Leah said something interesting, "This sounds stupid, but I'm actually amazed this tastes like milk." We said goodbye and when I shook his hand it was obvious that he had milked a lot of cows, he was STRONG.

After leaving the dairy, were we aching for some hot springs action. Finally we arrived at the hot springs and thought we had died and gone to heaven. There were three pools, warm, warmer, and hot-- there was even a water slide if you were feeling too relaxed. The price was right and the camping was free! This was a place where only locals go-- tranquilo and with great vibes. Every person we talked to explained how nice and safe the area was and how there were never problems there. We finally felt relaxed after the antics of the wild west (a.k.a Nicaragua and Honduras) and let out a big sigh of relief. The pools felt great and we found a place to camp away from all the excitement (really there was hardly anyone there), off in a corner and across from the warm stream. We slept like babies that first night and got up early the next morning and hit the water, followed by a full day of relaxing, card playing, reading, and talking with the locals with not another tourist in sight. This was not the Costa Rica we had anticipated as everyone kept telling us how overrun with tourists the country is, a nice surprise.

That night I cleaned up after dinner and loosely put things away. Everything was under shelter and the according to everyone the area was safe, nothing to worry about. We took almost all of our usual precautions by bringing the money belts with passports and cameras inside the tent, I didn't take my handlebar bag in as all it had were a couple of things no one would want but me anyway (ie. compass, analog altimeter, bike computer, some locks and stinky biking gloves, etc.). I joined Leah in the tent and slept soundly until midnight or so when I woke up for my usual midnight pee. After peeing, I stumbled under the shelter for some water and I noticed that my bike (10 feet away from the tent) had fallen over. Now, picture this going through my groggy brain...¨Weird,¨ I thought, ¨I didn´t hear it fall. Huh, some things fell out of the panniers. Wait a minute they weren´t open last night when I went to bed, did an animal get into them? No they would have made more noise.¨ My heart starts pounding, ¨Shit, we got ROBBED!¨ All the panniers were open, everything was taken out of them, things taken out of plastic bags and the plastic bags gone, full of the stuff they wanted. Gone is the stove, water filter-gone, Leah´s shoes, Enrique´s camelback we were borrowing, compass, altimeter, bike computer and the list goes on $1,000 long. They really must have worked up an appetite because they even had time to open and eat one of our cans of tuna and toss the empty can aside!

I'm sure that the thief didn't even know what some of the things were, but they looked fancy enough to take. The stove is worthless to them because they left the pump and fuel bottle. The altimeter, if they figure out what it is, is in feet. The bike computer is worthless without the mount that is still on my bike and the locks that they took were combination locks. Lucky for us though, they left all of our panniers, dry bags, and bikes and most importantly left us safe and sleeping soundly. Worse than losing our stuff though, they stole our innocence and violated our space and trust, a very depressing and angering feeling. We woke the manager and told him what happened (although a little unsure if the manager was actually the thief, skeptical of everyone at this point). He was very sorry for us and we could tell it pained him (well, he told us so too). He said it was the first time anything like this had happened there. We took all of our stuff under the restaurant roof and tried to go back to sleep, awaking and looking out of the tent with every little noise, sorry that we felt we had to do so. In the morning, we took everything apart and made a list of everything that we lost and we still add to it now and then. We rode to the police station to file a report and on the way we encountered Victor, a man that we had met the day before at the hot springs who we chatted with and who kindly bought us each a drink as well. When we told him what happened, he was very sorry and embarrassed, a reaction we got from the police chief as well. "This NEVER happens here," he said. Unfortunately, this is a problem that has been on the rise here in Costa Rica for awhile and it seems that no area is impenetrable. They insisted that it must have been someone from outside of the community that had come to the hot springs and seen us there. Our bad luck persisted and the police didn't have the capacity to issue an official police report there, something we wanted just in case we could get some money from insurance. So, we checked into a hotel, stashed our bikes, and made our way to Liberia, the closest big city. However, the bus schedule didn't allow us to go there and back in the same day, so we stood outside in the rain hitchhiking until Miguel Angel picked us up and kindly delivered us to the main bus station in Bagaces, half way to Liberia. The irony did not escape us of the fact that we were hitchhiking the morning after getting robbed, but we were desperate and quite simply still had faith in the goodness of the locals (which Miguel Angel clearly reaffirmed to us). Our trip to Liberia was successful and we left the next morning with slightly higher spirits and still a warm place in our hearts for the area and locals we encountered.

Hasta Luego, Managua

After almost two months of living with Enrique in Managua, we decided it was time to pack up and leave. But first, Enrique got a taste of bike touring around the neighborhood on my trusty bici I have recently named "Blackie." Pronounced, Blah- KEY, as every single black dog is called on the Atlantic coast of Nicaragua (not joking). Our time there was filled with two weeks of awesome Spanish lessons, weekly movies at the cinema, cooking in a real kitchen (and even baking!), card games galore, witnessing first hand the labor unions and goverment duke it out (in a developing nation nonetheless), and numerous side trips to other cities, sites, and markets in Nicaragua. Gone are the days of hot showers, a comfy bed, and anything routine. Back to the life of bike adventurers going where the wind blows (hopefully the same direction), sometimes a bit stinky and tired, but always ready for anything.

Our first destination after Managua was Isla de Ometepe, an island in Lake Nicaragua. We woke our leg muscles back up on the 45 km ride to Granada where we caught a boat to Altagracia- one of the biggest towns on Ometepe. In our one week on Ometepe, we circimnavigated the island (all 100 km that is) and even climbed a volcano.

From Altagracia, we rode down to a small town named Merida. From Merida there is a trail to climb to the top of Volcan Maderas (one of the two volcanoes that comprise Ometepe. It´s inactive, but the other, Concepcion, is still active). While taking a break in Merida at a comedor, we encountered another bike tourist, Sam. Sam has lived in Costa Rica since he was 8, but his Dad is American and Mom is Swiss. He just graduated from high school and was taking one week to tour Ometepe. He´s also hoping to ride from Costa Rica to the States in the future, so we chatted for a bit about our experience so far. Later, we also decided to climb Volcan Maderas together the following day. We found ourselves a guide through the hostel we were staying at (guides are required) and set out at 7 am the next morning, hoping for a cloudless view from the top. The hike was classified as a "very strenuous 8 hour hike," but we thought, "Ah, they always exaggerate so people are over prepared, it´s probably not that bad." Holy cow were we wrong. The hike took ALL of our energy and 8.5 hours. We climbed from about 150 feet above sea level to about 46oo feet in roughly 4 miles or so (guessing) and the worst part was that there wasn´t really a trail in some spots. We were using our arms and legs to scramble up some rocks and tree roots and praying that we wouldn´t lose our footing in some very slippery and steep mud. The scenery made up for it though. We passed through coffee land, then into the forest, and later rainforest near the top. The views were incredible of the lake and other parts of the island. But unfortunately, when we got to the top the clouds rolled in and we didn´t get the spectacular view we had hoped for. David and Sam continued on a bit further to a laguna in the crater up top, but I stayed at the top as my legs seriously needed a break. (This actually wasn´t the best idea as I froze my butt off in my sweat drenched clothes with the wind whipping. I ended up sitting in a puddle of mud, scrunched up in a ball, behind a small tree for protection. Not my favorite moment). On the way down, we saw more howler monkeys and also capuchin monkeys for the first time (little white and black monkeys, like the ones in Africa that carry Ebola). Prior to this trip, I didn´t realize how populous monkeys are down here, a nice surprise (considering they don´t have Ebola of course). After a very large dinner that night, we slept like logs and woke up practically paraplegic. I guess that´s one way to jump start getting back in biking shape.

From Merida, we said our goodbyes to Sam and rode around the bottom part of the island, skirting the base of Maderas and enjoying the views of each of its sides. As we rode, we noticed lots of campesinos (farmers) and coffee, plantain, rice, and corn fields. It seems farming and tourism really are the only industries on the island. We also noticed that they were installing more poles to bring electricity to the most rural part of the island where we were. Everyone on the island was VERY friendly and laid back and still excited to see and talk to tourists (the island hasn´t been overrun with tourists yet, thankfully). That night, we camped at a house full of women, literally. A mother with 10 kids, all daughters and a few grandchildren as well (although not all 10 were living there). They all had long strange biblical names, none of which I can remember (blame my heathen parents). They were very welcoming and excited to host us and we stayed up past dark talking and sharing a meal by candlelight as electricity hasn´t reached that part of the island yet. While we spoke, they explained that their house was donated to them by a German organization along with many others on the island (which explains why so many houses looked identical) and also that the electricity expansion project was also a donation. As usual, they simply stated these things nonchalantely. Still a bit unnerving at first to us Americans. But that´s how lots of things get done in Nicaragua-- the government would never fund those things and the campesino way of life is virtually subsistence living. To them, it´s perfectly normal for them to live off of donations, and who shows gratitude for what´s normal? I never showed any appreciation for many normal things in the States (which now I am SO appreciative for).

The next day, we continued on our circumnavigation and spent the afternoon at Ojo de Agua (eye of water) where we also ended up camping for the night. Ojo de Agua is a big pool of clear water from an underground spring. More relaxing was in order of course and we swam and basked in the sun. We had also hoped to go for a night swim after everyone left, but as soon as it became dark a ton of bats came out and fluttered all over the surface of the water. Dave was still brave enough to take a dip. From Ojo de Agua we finally got back onto paved road and cycled some rolling hills to Punta Jesus Maria, the westernmost point on the island with a big sandbar. We were treated to a great sunset and then an awesome view of a couple of lightning storms a ways away. That night, we sat in an old canoe on the shore and ate our favorite packaged Casera cookies while Dave attempted time and time again to capture the lightning with his camera, which was quite comical for me. A great memory.

We left Ometepe with a renewed realization of Nicaraguan hospitality, many photos to remember the amazing scenery as well, and of course sore legs. The overnight boat to San Carlos whisked us away from the Ometepe oasis and brought us back to border town Central America. Costa Rica or bust!

The Corn Islands, or Islas de Maize, Carribean Coast, Nicaragua

Our time at the Corn Islands was filled with adventure...ok, not really much adventure. After arriving we walked (from now on you can assume that anytime I mention going anywhere, we were either walking or running- the former, for the most part) from the leeward side of the island to the windward side, about a 10 minute walk. We found a place to camp in a very busy part of the beach where the cheapest cabañas were, and therefore the most backpackers. As soon as we started talking to some of the backpackers we had met, we were immediately glad that we had lugged our tent, some food, our water filter, machete, and camping stove because it turns out that everything on the island was much more expensive than we (and other backpackers) had expected. We camped at Grace´s Place and enjoyed a little bit of social life, good weather, great coconuts, sunrises, clear water, card games, reading, journaling and long walks on the beach. Our life rocks!

On one of our long walks on the beach, we found a sweet place to camp on a corner of the island where nobody was staying, and from the beach there you could see both the sunrise and the sunset, tell me how you can beat that! The place was called Casa Sunrise, the owner wasn´t around but the caretaker, Emilio, was there and over the next week we got to know him quite well. He was from Big Corn Island and was very Caribbean and very cool. We also made some friends, Brent and Emily, that were staying at the place next to us who just happened to be from Park City, Utah and we connected with them really well. That night, we celebrated by cooking dinner over a fire on the beach with our new found friends, staring up at the stars, listening to Emilio sing ¨My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean¨ and laughing at his seemingly endless sayings and stories. We all enjoyed it so much that it became a nightly event for the remainder of our time on Little Corn and quite possibly one of our favorite memories.

One of our other favorite past times during our two weeks there was walking into town for some fresh coco bread or pan de coco. Coco bread looks like a hoagie but is sweet and is cooked with coconut flour. We found about four places on the island that sell coco bread and we sampled them all. Our favorite coco bread was made by a lady next to the school and Panchito, our favorite domestic spider monkey on the island. We remained faithful to her coco-bread for the rest of our time there. We would try arrive at her house between 3 and 4 in the afternoon, right when she was taking the bread out of the oven (you know, carribean time). We would take our bread and sit in front of Panchito who, unfortunately, was on a leash but friendly, especially when approached alone. We would give him little pieces of bread, watch him swing and jump around on his tree branches and ropes and when I was alone (and lucky) he would hold my hand (either with his foot, hand or tail) and hang on my arm. I could sit and watch him for hours, but Leah was generally over it after 15 minutes or so.

The island also happened to be a tropical paradise where fruit grew without needing cultivation, even in the tail end of the dry season. We were told that during the wet season the place is full of even more fruit! While we were there the most plentiful fruit was mangoes. We couldn´t walk from town to our end of the island (about a 30 minute walk) without stepping on at least 3 mangoes. They were littered everywhere. Due to the plentitude of mangoes we discovered a couple of things: 1) there are at least 7 different types of mangoes on the island, and 2) I just might be allergic to one or more of them.

One morning after we had eaten our breakfast of some bread that the local cat had gnawed on (we took off the bits where we thought her saliva was), Aunty Rich mangoes (which we had been eating) and something new, Sugar mangoes. I went to lie in the tent to have a rest but was too hot, so I went to lie in some shade and was still too hot, then I tried the hammock, STILL too hot. Meanwhile, Leah asked me, ¨Have you been crying?,¨because apparently I looked a little pink and puffy in my face. Didn´t think anything of it though. I then realized that I was starting to really itch everywhere, especially in the locations of my lymph nodes. DING DING DING!!! Bells went off in my head. Leah had experienced something very similar to this just about one year ago and it was an allergic reaction. Now, for those of you who don´t know Leah she tends to be a bit of a hypochondriac (being a nurse and knowing symptoms for tons of diseases doesn´t help her out much). And not only does she always wonder if she´s sick, she does it with me too, driving me crazy at times. Knowing this, I approached the matter delicately, ¨Leah, now don´t freak out, but I think I´m having an allergic reaction,¨ I told her. She looked up from filtering water, took one look at me and went into hyperaction-nurse mode. The whole situation may not have been too threatening had we been in a city, but we were at least a 25 minute run from the local health center, a 30 minute boat ride to Big Corn Island and then a 30 minute flight to Bluefields which is where the nearest hospital was (and getting these modes of transportation lined up to coincide quickly one after the other is impossible). She said my face was swollen and deep pink, I had hives all over, bloody scratches where I had been scratching my armpits incessantly, and worst of all a thick bumpy tongue. I guess it would have been obvious to anyone with a mirror that something was wrong.

She shoved two Benadryl down my throat, threw me my shirt and said, "Run to the clinic!" I headed off down the path with her close on my heels after locking the tent and she called me to stop. She caught up to me, took a quick look and shoved another Benadryl down my throat. She had the Epinephryn Pen in hand and really looked like she wanted to use it. I told her that I would rather wait until I actually felt my airway being restricted. We then took off running for the clinic and I was soon out of sight of Leah. The whole time I was running I was thinking to myself a couple of things, "Damn, I'm glad we've been biking and I don't feel too winded to run," and second, "Its a good thing this island is pretty flat." About half way to the clinic I encountered Emilio, who had left for town on his bike only minutes before the action had started and I asked him to show me where the clinic was and that I needed to get there fast because I was having an allergic reaction. I'm pretty sure he didn't understand the gravity of the situation as he rode slowly on toward town (almost walking pace) and stopped to throw a couple of mangoes to Panchito. Without trying to push too hard I told him that I could run pretty fast and that he could speed up. It didn't change anything. Then at the dock he stopped and pointed in the direction of the clinic, farther down the path into town, I should have figured. After a total of about a 25 minute run I arrived to find the young nurse, Efra, who it turns out was just out of school, in the yard doing a bit of clean up. I told her what was happening and she took me in and sat me down.

"Do you think you could wait just a little while?" were the first words out of Efra's mouth when we got in the clinic. "I'm pretty sure that's not such a good idea," I told her. She explained to me that there was no doctor there right then and that he should be arriving on the boat from Big Corn Island soon. I think Efra must have seen the disparity in my eyes and taken notice to all the scratch marks all over my body and she got on the phone to call one of the doctors to find out what to do. Leah showed up while she was on the phone and took charge of my care. Between the two of them (after Leah explained that she was a nurse) and the doctor on the phone they laid me down, took my blood pressure and pulse, got out an IV, found the correct steroids and prepared to stick me. Now, ever since Leah had been in nursing school she has always commented on my veins and asked me if she can practice starting an IV in me. I'm not really one that is keen on having track marks on my arms so I always denied her the privilege. As Leah was drawing up the hydrocortisone, Efra got the needle out of the package (thank God) and Leah said, "Do you want me to do that?" in the Leah tone that means, "Can I do that?" Efra replied, "No, I can do it," in a tone that sounded like, "No, I want to do it." I could see the look of disappointment in Leah's eyes and Efra went to work (without gloves and with alcohol only after Leah requested her to use some) getting my vein in one try. They pumped me full of steroids and by this time I was feeling pretty groggy from all the Benadryl. After all the action was over and Leah said I looked MUCH better than when she had given me the third Benadryl, the doctor showed up. He listened to my lungs and heart and played with his tuning fork for no apparent reason. He decided that I looked ok and that all there was to do now was to rub calamine lotion over my body and wait. No one would have checked my blood pressure or pulses throughout the entire time if Leah hadn´t been there, a little different than in the States. We left the clinic a little while later without having to pay a cent and headed for some coco-bread and to sit in front of Panchito for a bit (we really liked doing that if you can´t tell by now).

One day we decide that some "ron don" sounded pretty tasty. Ron don (actually "run down" said with the local Corn Island accent) is a sort of Carribean stew made with coconut milk, Yucca (cassava - a potato-like root), plantains, carrots, conch meat and or fish (whichever you are able to "run down"). Leah, I, Emilio and Brent headed out as a squad to scour the local sea grass for conchs. After and hour or so of looking we had found only three small conches and had just as many barracuda sightings, with one following Emilio for a bit salivating at the thought of some tasty man meat. The barracuda must of decided Emilio was too sinewy and turned away and kind of caused us to do the same. Our next approach was to send Brent out with the fishing pole and Leah and I to town to get the required veggies. We returned in time to watch Brent reeling in a good sized snapper. Just as he got it in front of him he saw the flash of a giant barracuda, a tug on the line, then only a slight dead weight. He pulled in one third of a shredded snapper and and had no more luck. That night we had very starchy ron don with extra plantains and yucca, each savoring a small piece of conch or fish. Emilio made sure that even if we couldn't finish our plantains that we drank the broth and doing more than his part to help finish off the pot telling us, "Better belly burst than good food go to waste." For the meat that was lacking from the ron don the company more than made up for and nobody went home with an empty belly or heart.

The remainder of our time on Little Corn Island was spent like you would probably expect time to be spent on s small tropical island: reading, journaling, eating coconuts and other tropical fruits (minus mangoes), practicing my coconut opening skills, talking with locals, hanging out on the beach with Brent and Emily, circumnavigating the island by foot, swimming/snorkeling, watching sunsets and sunrises from the same place on the beach, playing cards, filtering water, making our meals and just enjoying island life. We left Little Corn Island with new found friends, a new soft spot in our hearts for Carribean culture and slightly better tans.