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 Nicaragua - Part 1
February 12, 2005
Exchange rate: $1 = about 16 Cordobas
I last left you at the border of Honduras and Nicaragua while taking another step onward
in my six-week holiday loop from Guatemala south to Panama and then back. I was traveling with my friend Travis
(who I introduced in my last story) ) and our crossing was at Las Manas where we each
paid $5 to exit Honduras and $7 to enter Nicaragua - by far my most expensive emigration/immigration procedure
in the entire trip. During these travels I did a total of nine (!) border crossings with a total expenditure of
$37.50. Nicaragua (which I would enter and exit twice) was the costliest by far, with the tab for it alone being
$19.
Our "first port of call" in this new country was Ocotal, a city of about 35,000 that sits at the base
of Sierra de Dipilto, the country's highest mountain. This part of northwest Nicaragua where we spent our first
couple of days is pleasantly green, cool and seldom visited by tourists. The countryside and small villages along
the highway are filled with roadside stands selling colorful bundles of vegetables that flourish in the fertile
soil. Our stay in Ocotal was brief and largely uneventful - aside from a our visit with Sarah, a delightful and
unusually outgoing young Latino woman who, upon spotting Travis and I, instantly corralled us into spending the
next few hours with her chatting in English - first in the central square and later in a restaurant. While overtly
flirting with Travis she would periodically reassure me, "with much respect you for me is like a father".
(!)
After a couple of pleasantly scenic hours on a fairly crowded local bus the next morning (C15) we arrived in Estelí,
a larger city that's the economic center of this agriculturally rich region.  Physically it's unremarkable, but this
town did distinguish itself for both the cheapest accommodation of my trip (Hospedaje Chepito for C30, less than
$2 but very noisy) and for the most blatantly capitalist festival of the trip that'd been dubbed (with translation,
of course) "The Night of Christmas Shopping", which it turns out was actually eight nights - and this
particular Saturday evening (December 11th) was the first of them.
Up and down the main thoroughfare, which'd been closed off to traffic, all the businesses had pulled out all the
stops with loud music blaring from a considerable number of sound systems competing with each other with maximum
decibel levels. Booths were set up along and banners strung across the street, pretty girls were dressed up like
Santa (but with short skirts!) and wandered around giving out candy, raucously loud bands occasionally marched
about, and hordes of locals were crammed into the chaotic atmosphere, wandering aimlessly, eating "comida
tipica" (typical food) and perhaps actually doing some shopping here and there.
Before I spend much time in a new country I try to gain at least a basic comprehension of its history, since this
creates a helpful framework for understanding its people. In Nicaragua I found this to be especially true. Although
its culture and past are fairly similar in many ways to most other Central America countries, the remnants of what's
transpired there over recent decades lie much closer to the surface and to fully comprehend Nicaragua in the present
I believe it's imperative to grasp the events and consequences of its political past. I bring this up now because
Estelí has had particular significance politically. There was heavy fighting there during the revolution
and it remains a stronghold for the FSLN, the political party of the radical Sandanistas.
Nicaragua's early history is largely parallel to its neighbors: independence from Spain in 1821; incorporation
into the short-lived Central American Federation; complete sovereignty in 1838; power struggles between conservative
and liberal factions for decades upon decades; and periodic self-serving financial and political foreign intervention.
Both England and the United States targeted Nicaragua as a possible site for a canal to connect the Atlantic and
Pacific Oceans. And one component of this whole region's 19th century history of foreign intrusion is an unusually
heinous and persistent figure - a certain William Walker who you'll hear about later.
But let's jump to the 20th century where it really gets interesting. By the early 1900's Japan and Germany were
also getting into the power play for a trans-isthmus canal. The U.S. was eager to monopolize these proceedings
and have things go their way, so much so that 2,500 marines were dispatched in 1912 to quell a rebellion by opposing
internal forces. "For most of the next two decades the USA dominated politics in Nicaragua, installing
presidents it favored and ousting those it didn't, using its marines as leverage. In 1914 the  Bryan-Chamorro Treaty was
signed, granting the USA exclusive rights to build a canal  in Nicaragua and to establish US naval bases there.
The USA had no intention of building such a canal, but it did want to ensure that no one else did." (Lonely
Planet Guide)
Soon, two figures of massive importance would emerge: Anastasio Somoza and Augusto Sandino. In 1933, US marines
were withdrawn, but left behind their highly trained Guardia Nacional (led by Somoza) whose primary task was to
put down a growing movement to resist US intervention and dominance…led by Sandino. Eventually Somoza would engineer
the assassination of Sandino (under the guise of peace negotiations) while consolidating his power base. Through
a fraudulent election he became president in 1937, initiating a four-decade long family dynasty - a right-wing
military dictatorship that resulted in ruthless oppression, murder and pillaging - all shamelessly supported in
one way or another by the US government.
In 1954, the US used Nicaragua as a staging area for its CIA led invasion of Guatemala which ousted a democratically-elected
president. In 1961, the disastrous CIA initiated Bay of Pigs invasion of Cuba was also based out of there. While
crushing any and all opposition and amassing immense personal fortune, Somoza made sure he stayed on the good side
of Washington. US president Franklin D. Roosevelt once commented about him, "He may be a son of a bitch, but
at least he's our son of a bitch!" In 1954 Somoza was boldly assassinated in Leon and his son took over, only
to die in 1967. Another son then took over and the family fun never skipped a beat.
Named in Sandino's honor, the Frente Sandanista de Liberación Nacional (FSLN) was formed in the early 1960s
in an effort to spearhead the overthrow of Somoza's brutal regime. Led by student activist Carlos Fonesca and taking
inspiration from and utilizing many of the guerrilla tactics of the successful Cuban uprising in 1959, the Sandanistas
(as they soon became called) would change history. Opposition grew, repression increased, assassinations resulted
on both sides and by 1978 there was a broad alliance that was getting support not just from the likes of Cuba and
the USSR, but also from many moderate American and European governments. (I use "American" here as it
should be, to include all of the Americas.)
The revolutionary forces took city after city and by July 1979 the Somoza family was finished and fled. On the
19th the Sandanistas marched victoriously into the capital of Managua. But they'd inherited a huge mess - a country
left in shambles with widespread poverty, illiteracy, unemployment and virtually no effective health care system.
Over 50,000 had died from the violence and about 150,000 were homeless. Soon the tactical alliance between moderates
and radicals fractured. None-the-less, the new government forged on undaunted.
Unfortunately for them the presidency of the USA changed in January 1981. Instead of Jimmy Carter, who'd sent US$75
million in aid, there was now Ronald Reagan who not only immediately suspended all aid, but who imposed a trade
embargo in 1983 and then began funding the counterrevolutionary group called the Contras - mostly ex-soldiers of
the former National Guard. As US tax dollars flowed in, the Contras became heavily militarized while training in
neighboring Honduras. In 1984, a CIA plot to mine Nicaragua's harbors was discovered and resulted in a judgment
by the International Court of Justice. In 1985, the US Congress cut off aid to the Contras, but the reactionary
Reagan administration continued by illegally selling weapons to Iran and funneling the profits back to the Contras.
The war raged on and the body count piled up.
 Meanwhile
the Sandanistas were making surprising progress in redistributing land to small farming cooperatives, improving
education (they lowered illiteracy from 50% to 13%) and healthcare (infant mortality was reduced by a third). However
the trade embargo and bloody war were taking their toll, plus there were many mistakes being made by the young
and idealistic upstart government. By the end of the '80s the Nicaraguan people were tired of food rationing, lack
of spare parts, censorship and political repression and losing their sons in war (conscription had been forced).
In 1990, an opposition party with the backing of Washington won the election, effectively ending the Sandanistas'
revolution.
The Sandanistas are still active in the political process, though little remains of their revolutionary fire. But
party loyalties within Nicaragua remain strong and in both Leon and  Estelí this is very evident, with large dynamic murals along
the street here and there celebrating the ideals and heroics of the Sandanistas and their followers. And nowhere
did the imagery, legends and mythology of the Sandanistas survive more vividly than at Rincon Real, a bar/restaurant
that's also a de facto museum to revolutionary history and sentiments. Travis and I knew we had to go there and
check it out.
Adorning the inner walls of Rincon Real are many photos, hundreds of them, mostly of Che Guevara. If you didn't
already know, Che's legend and prominence are beyond gigantic in Central America! In the minds and hearts of many
people Che was, and most certainly still is, the absolute personification of all that's noble and righteous…not
to mention cool. "He's my hero!" How many times have I heard that since moving to this hemisphere? His
image is everywhere.
 There certainly is
much to admire about Che. (I just finished his lengthy biography by Jon Lee Anderson - amazing book!) He was bold
and courageous, brilliantly analytical and articulate, unswervingly loyal and committed to his revolutionary ideals,
passionate and charismatic and a lifelong romantic. His self-sacrifice and will power were legendary and he lived
out his life in absolute congruency with his ideals and goals. Che Guevara was the consummate leftist revolutionary
guerrilla, devoted to the plight of the "wretched of the earth", and his inspiration to many others fighting
oppression has been immeasurable. Consequently his name remains synonymous with the struggle for freedom and self-determination
in many parts of the world.
Che was also self-centered and verbally caustic on a personal level, politically self-righteous and often stubbornly
dogmatic, arrogant and sometimes cruel and even bloodthirsty, at times. He virtually worshipped violence and warfare
and had no qualms about employing terror as a means to an end when he felt it necessary. His goals were crystal
clear and he was  uncompromising
in his mission.
Che's handsome features adorn t-shirts, posters and virtually anything else an entrepreneur can adorn and sell.
At a weekend festival I was at in El Salvador later in my trip, one of the booths selling stuff was devoted solely
to Che paraphernalia: hats, shirts, jackets, pens, key chains, tote bags, buttons, you name it and they had it
with his face emblazoned across it. Che truly lives…in mass consumerism! But I can't help believing that no matter
how much Che's memory continues to embody and symbolize defiance to injustice and tyranny, if he'd looked like
Charles DeGaulle or Lyle Lovett he wouldn't be quite the cult figure he's become and we wouldn't be seeing many
t-shirts with his face on them! Let's face it: Che is chic…James Dean with a beard and beret!
Once Travis and I'd scanned over the hundred or so photos of Che in the main bar area, we were invited to enter
another room where there were four walls filled with many more, including Marx, Engels, Lenin, Mao, Ho Chi Minh
and a host of other pinko-red commies, as well as an extensive section dedicated to Sandino, Fonesca (who was murdered
in 1976) and others who'd been instrumental in the internal revolutionary struggle. One wall had a display of guns,
uniforms and miscellaneous items once carried by slain Sandanista rebels. It was inspiring and also somewhat romanticized
and over-glorified. In addition to the museum there was supposed to be a group from Managua performing rebel songs,
but they never showed up and finally the owner turned on dance music and strobe lights. It was then time for us
to hurriedly exit.
When hungry in Estelí make sure you stop at Cafetín El Recanto, one of the very best restaurants
I've found in Central America…and well-priced.
We paid C42 each the next morning for an express bus to Managua. Once at Mercado Mayorco terminal we then needed
to get across town to Mercado R Huembes for another bus eastward, so we hopped into a taxi for C30 each. Rather
than have one terminal in the center of town for all buses going everywhere, it's common (and annoying) in Mexico
and Central America to have them perched on the edges of town, thereby requiring a cross-town trip to travel onward.
The taxi drivers love it! For C14 we left on a shuttle bus to Granada, which took about an hour.
Granada is the country's oldest Spanish city, founded in 1524 by the Franciscans. It sits at the foot of Volcác
Mombacho on the shore of Lago de Nicaragua. Due to its access to the Caribbean Sea via the lake and Río
San Juan, the city became an important trading center, rich in colonial character. It still has many old homes
with stuccoed adobe walls, large wooden doors and regal courtyards, plus several important historical buildings.
There might have been more of it all if the city hadn't once been torched by an infamous invader named William
Walker, a power hungry American adventurer who once decided to subjugate no less than all of Central America!
In 1855, with 56 followers, he invaded Nicaragua and conquered Granada and "elected" himself president
of the country (his "government" was instantly recognized by the USA). Three months later he instituted
slavery, made English the official language and secured a massive loan from the US - putting up the country as
collateral! (This guy sure had some "huevos"!) He was eventually defeated in 1857, but left much of Granada
in flames. He was subsequently repelled in another invasion six months later and then in 1860 was captured in Honduras
and executed.
Travis and I checked into the Hospedaje Central where we shared a room for C112.50 each (about $6), which included
breakfast and thirty minutes of onsite internet. We were discovering how much more expensive Granada was. Another
popular choice for backpackers is the Bearded Monkey, which I looked at and found to be even pricier. Since being
there I've heard good things about the newer Oasis, though I guess it's not cheap either….by Central American standards.
I don't smoke tobacco and Travis seldom does, but while in Nicaragua we were on a mission to find, buy and smoke
homemade cigars. After the Cuban revolution in '59, some of the wealthy tobacco growers fled to Nicaragua with
bags of seeds from their finest crops. And it's now confidently claimed that the cigars they make are of the same
famous quality Americans are not allowed to buy in Cuba, due to the forever ongoing US trade embargo there. Supposedly
there're widely made in Estelí, but we'd searched in vain. Now in Granada, the quest continued and finally
we were told of a factory we could visit and roughly where it was.
Companía Nicaragense de Tabaco, S.A. was shut down for vacation that week, but there were a few employees
lounging about the place when we strolled in. They slowly ascended from various stages of proneness and indolence
and kindly offered to show us around. There was one guy who appeared to have an element of authority and he sort
of guided our tentative meandering. First we were taken into a tobacco storeroom, but they couldn't figure out
how to turn on the light so we had a dark and slightly abbreviated tour of that. From there we moved through some
other rooms that contained various phases of storage for either the tobacco leaves or the finished product. We
saw huge boxes wrapped and ready for shipment around the world. It smelled nice.
A large area of the facility was filled with many tables custom-made specifically for the hand rolling of the cigars
and at one of them sat a woman - for no reason I could glean since the place was basically shut down. At the boss's
behest she demonstrated how a cigar is created…a private showing. With nimble fingers she deftly rolled, trimmed
and produced a beauty. She didn't seem be too thrilled about being put to the task, though I think she did actually
smile once later in the demo. No doubt she gets paid diddly squat for her countless hours of monotonous work and
didn't feel inclined to perform on command for the gringos. Of course, we each bought some of their product - they
were about a buck each and I felt a little like a colonialist when I smoked it later.
 Granada is one
of the most highly touted cities in Central America and most people who've been there really talk it up. It didn't
do anything special for me. I didn't deem it to be all that attractive, the square was mediocre (I could never
get a shaded bench spot there.) as was the mercado, plus there were very few cheap eateries. The only inexpensive
food I could find was yucca, a commonly grown and pretty much tasteless vegetable, and chicharrón: crispy
fried pork rind which is just about the most revolting thing I could ever imagine eating! Also, a lot of people
hassled me for money either begging or trying to play me for a chump with some obviously phony hard luck tale.
Plus, it sure didn't help that my traveling companion was more or less publicly assaulted!
Travis and I were sitting with some acquaintances at a sidewalk café and a sorry-looking derelict came stumbling
along, picked up the bottle of salsa picante (hot sauce) off the table and violently hurled it at Travis. He then
wandered off mumbling something unintelligible. Fortunately, the bottle didn't strike Travis in his face, but rather
hit his shoulder, then glanced off to land almost completely across the street. "Ouch! That really hurt!"
was Travis's sole response. In all honesty, I'm not sure I would've been so calmly non-reactive.
I would leave Nicaragua and move on south to Costa Rica and Panama, only to return later and spend more time elsewhere
in the country.
Hasta la Rasta…mon,
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Peace,