One-Sided Bus Conversation

Friday, February 01, 2013—Jinotega to Esteli

I’ve had to wear earplugs almost every night.  Last night was not an exception.  Sometime during the night, I pulled them out, but I had to put them back in at 5:00 when the roosters started crowing.  That made me a bit concerned that I might oversleep.  I knew I needed to catch a bus this morning at 9:00.  Fortunately, the sun shone through the curtain about 7:30, so I awoke without having to worry about time, at least temporarily.

I left the hotel at 8:00 and walked to the bus station.  There at 8:10, I wanted to confirm that the bus for Esteli left there at 9:00.  A man told me there was no bus to Esteli and that I would have to take a bus to Matagalpa and then catch a bus from there for Esteli.  Fortunately, a shoeshine man overhead and said that there is a direct bus for Esteli from Terminal Norte.  Well, I didn’t even know there was another terminal.  He gave me general directions, and I headed started walking fast knowing that the bus would load about 8:30 and that I might have to stand the entire way if I got there late.

Twice, I had to ask directions again to make sure I was going to the right place.  I got there about 8:25.  Again, I needed to confirm that I was in the right place for the bus to Esteli, since there were buses parked on streets a block away.  One family told me I wasn’t.  Another told me I was.  I just had to wait to see.  In the meantime, I was standing near a shop where they make saddles.  I took a photo, and when I showed it to the two men working there, I could tell they were proud that I had done it.

At 8:35, the Esteli bus pulled up.  Even the family that had told me I was not in the right place saw it and pointed it out to me.  I gave my bag to the man putting cargo on top, and I entered and got a seat.  Unfortunately, a very fat man wanted to sit beside me a few minutes later, and it left me with only a third of a seat to sit on, since these are old school buses with seats designed to fit two children.  A young man across the aisle and one row ahead was sitting alone, so I asked if I could move there, and he agreed. 

The bus pulled out on time with all seats filled and people standing in the aisles as I had expected.  It was the last morning bus headed that way.  As we went along the route, some people left and others got on.  The young man beside me left, and another young man took his place. 

The conductor came to collect for tickets.  I had read that this would be a 1 1/2 hour trip, so I expected to pay about 25 Cordobas, the price I had paid for a trip of similar length from Matagalpa to Jinotega.  Instead, he told me it would be 50 Cordobas.  That’s just a little more than $2, but I wondered if I had been cheated and that the conductor was going home with an extra dollar from me in his pocket.  Eventually, the trip proved to be 2 3/4 hours, so maybe the fare really was 50 Cordobas.

The scenery was nice along the way.  We definitely came through ranching areas.  There was a man on a horse herding cattle with his lasso.  There were other men in small villages with their horses tied up in front of businesses.  We passed an accident where a car went off the road and had its tail sticking up in the air; everyone on the bus stood to try to see it better.  We seem to have come down in altitude some.  The mountains aren’t as obvious as they were in Jinotega, and the temperature here seems to be a bit warmer.

The second young man who sat beside me started talking to me not long after he sat down.  I couldn’t understand anything he was saying.  He was talking fast, and he may have had a strong regional accent.  I listened for words I could recognize to try to understand, but there weren’t any.  He was smiling, and I could tell that he seemed to just be trying to be friendly.  I had to tell him I couldn’t comprehend, but that didn’t stop him.  He would just smile more, touch my arm, and talk more.  For about 2 hours, he talked off and on.  At one point toward the end of the trip, I heard the words “hotel” and “casa” in the same sentence, and I got the impression it was a question.  My guess is that he may have been inviting me to his home rather than my staying at a hotel.  But I will never know, because I just kept telling him I didn’t understand.  He got off at a stop just before we entered Esteli.

I am staying at a hostel for the first time on the trip—Sonati Hostel.  I’m in one of the two private rooms they have.  There are also some dormitories where most of the people here are staying.  I haven’t met anyone yet.  They seem to be mostly young Americans, and they seem to be friendly.  I imagine they are wondering why an older person like me is here.  The reason is that the only GOOD place to stay in town (a B&B and has only 2 rooms) was already booked, and all the hotels had negative comments in their reviews.  This hostel has only been open for about 2 years, so the beds are decent.  My room is large and clean.  So is my bath.  There is noise through the walls, but I have been having that everywhere.  It will be earplug time again at bedtime!

I went out exploring for about 2 hours during the afternoon.  Esteli is a bigger and cleaner place than Matagalpa or Jinotega.  Also, it is a popular place for expatriates to settle due to the cooler, dryer air.  Apparently there were some problems for them at first related to resentment from the locals, but that seems to have been settled.  As I wandered, everyone seemed friendly.  I spent part of the time at the park reading.  I also went into the local branch of La Colonia, the fancy supermarket chain that caters to the wealthier people and the foreigners.  I was so ready to have a cold Coke Zero, but they did not have it in the cooler.  That’s too bad.

Later in the day, I went out again.  This time I walked far to the north side of town so that I could see the houses of the expatriates who have settled here.  They are huge and nice.  I can see why the Nicaraguans are somewhat resentful.  It’s a compound of mansions with guards. 

From there, I walked far to the south of the city and found the Gutierrez Bakery that my guidebook recommended.  I bought 3 pastries for my dinner—one with a sweet potato-curry type filling; one with bacon, ham, and cheese; and one with pineapple.  They were more filling than I expected.  Then I stopped at Pali, the Walmart-owned supermarket chain, and they had cold Coke Zero.  I bought a 1.5 liter bottle and drank half of it almost instantly. 

Back at the room, I read for most of the evening.  Then I had trouble getting onto the Internet.