Buena Onda Overload!!

One word to describe the last couple weeks in Nicaragua.. EPIC!

At last post I was rushing due-Caribbean for a week-long shamelessly gringo-fied week of beach bum indulgence.  Little Corn island was, in fact, all that AND a bag of chips (yucca chips that is).

From my first sniff of the Caribbean (first time in my life!) on arrival in the grimy port town of Bluefields.. I was digging the totally contrasting vibe to the spanish colonial towns and Latino culture which I have been immersed in for the last 6 months.  It was a refreshing and novel change to hear the super cool creole english mixed with some spanish floating around the town and to meet a variety of colourful (as in PERSONALITY guys..) locals inhabiting the strange and intriguing town of Bluefields.  This town serves as the jump-off point to the corn islands which are at 88km of the mainland AND just to get a bit MORE remote, Bluefields itself is only accessable by boat along the river from El Rama 2 hours away.

Our international gang of 14 travellers (USA, Canada, Australia, UK and Israel) gathered from all corners of the central american trail somehow magically all made it for an early morning twice weekly boat which transports at least double its capacity of travellers from cultural hub (haw haw) of Bluefields to Big Corn Island in 5.5 long hours and slightly less than ideal conditions (vomit, rain, wind-blown vomit, more rain).  I have since, somewhat philosophically, decided that the hellish boat journey which we endured in order to make it to Caribbean paradise acts a right of passage or something, ensuring that only the strongest stomached, most dedicated passengers will make it to our magical destination.

Little corn island still feels a little bit undiscovered, there are no gaudy beachfront clubs, big hotels or too many tourists.  The thatch huts at Cool Spot/Graces Place (yes that is actually the name) are basic, slightly worse for the wear and are home to many critters.. but they are literally 3 meters to the beautiful golden sand beach and crystal clear water.  Is it cliché to say it was paradise? Oh I don’t care… it was Paradise!  The gang of us spent our days swimming, sunning (I managed to get a sunburn in the shade), playing serious international volleyball,  snorkeling with sharks and stingrays and buying fish off the local fisherman as they passed by which we cooked up in the rustic (i.e. dirty and lacking in most necessary utensils) kitchen.  It became a sort of time passing obsession for us to plan ways to make new and amazing creations in the horrible kitchen.. and I have to say Team Israel impressed everyone. Shakshuka, shabbat dinners, bruschetta.. we were eating like kings.

Kobi saying the prayer at our friday Shabbat meal,

A highlight of everyone’s day on our beach was affectionately named ‘Mid-Degredation’ which involved thinking up

gross or degrading challenges to be attempted by one of our crew with a monetary gain based on success. We had Jonny attempt to drink half a gallon of water mixed with a whole bottle of chilli salsa in 10 minutes for $3, Selina agreed to let all of us squirt ketchup in her face and then be publicly humiliated in all her glory, Jack was due to eat a whole bulb of garlic (but somehow he got off scot-free..? and Andy was slapped in the face by a raw fish. You know, its being at one with nature that really brings you back to basics.

Any one fancy a spot of shame?

Food highlights on the island (besides our home-made creations) were the amazing fresh lobster at about $7 for a meal and the daily visit from our local patty man bearing spicy meat filled patties and the most strangest textured banana bread i have ever had.. the gringos went wild.  One day our world was rocked by the discovery of chocolate brownie cookies being sold up the road AND a lady selling fresh lobster patties.. all in one day.

I loved the cool creole chats with staff at our hostel (like Shako and some others whose names may or may not have been made up), it’s so amazing that on paper we are speaking the same language yet they have a lingo all their own which can make it almost impossible to understand each other.  Some basics you should know if you want to blend in with the locals here (hahahah):

Ho: How are you

Be cool: It’s all good, relax

Lend me a moment: Please wait

I got lated: I was delayed… I think this is my favourite.

And there are lots more but most of the time I couldn’t understand what was being said so I have no idea what they are!

After the stress of the days we found the best way to unwind was with a few litres of Nicaraguan Flor de Caña rum and cokes.. IF you haven’t come across this rum before, you must seek it out.. We worked out that drinking rum was technically cheaper than beer OR water. Easy decision. There is nothing more Caribbean than sipping a warm rum, digging your feet in the sand and swaying along to sweet reggae tunes (which became slightly less sweet after 8 days and the discovery that our bar had only one c.d. which was played on constant repeat from 7 a.m. to sometime in the late p.m.)

Reggae Nights..

I saw 2 sunrises in 8 days at Little Corn and they were some of the most beautiful I have experienced although my memories could be slightly hazy due to extreme… fatigue caused by partying to reggaeton for 8 hours.  There is no feeling in the world that compares to the sudden realisation that you are in the same clothes as last night, sipping the same warm beer you’ve had for the last 3 hours and now the sun is blaring at full heat with the arrival of daytime which snuck up sometime while you weren’t looking.  I can now relate to vampires with my sudden desperate need to dash for the cabin in order to shield my burning eyes from the abnormally bright bloody sun. Oh and the power goes off at 5 a.m., so no more fans. Alright, to hell with it, let’s swim off last nights festivities and let the day begin!

Departure from little corn was a sad day.  As we trudged to the dock in profuse sweat at 6:30 a.m I felt a sense of unfinished business, time had slipped away and there was still so much to do! I hadn’t freed the sad turtle caged up at Graces Place, I never managed to make friends with the bi-polar parrot and I hadn’t even attempted to circumnavigate the whole island!! This is, however, the best way to leave a place.. still with a craving for more and I expect that my small bite of Little Corn island will have me salivating for more for quite sometime…

Gang before the most hellish boat ride to Big Corn

Leaving the cultural hub of Bluefields

CHOO CHOO, all aboard the gringo train!!

Jack, in this Cool Spot

Andy the creepy fishmonger

caribbean waters, good for the soul

nurse sharks live below while we snorkel

Capn Willy here to take us snorkeling

An ugly bugger but very very very delicious hehe

getting ready for the big match…team Israel VS Team England

Kobi saying the prayer at our friday Shabbat meal,

Any one fancy a spot of shame?

Reggae Nights..

We arrived to our cozy hotel/brothel in Bluefields after an extraordinarily contrasting return boat journey! The sun shone, the sea was calm, we all had seats inside with a/c and slept like babies for the whole trip, having triumphantly conquered Madame Corny and all her secrets. Thus my theory has been proven, no?

The group split, some carried on south, some carried on north, some carried on home,  and some of us carried on in the Caribbean! Yahoo!

~ by lippygypsy on August 3, 2010.