The following day after visiting with the Moore's and saying good by to Ryan we headed off to the branch. I was a little bit nervous about getting around Managua because 1.) I hadn't yet occurred to me to get a map. I figured taxis, buses, little red three wheelers, etc. know how to get everywhere so I don't need a map. (In retrospect, I've seen the need to adjust this viewpoint.) 2.) Everybody says that there are many areas in Managua that are quite dangerous, especially for 6'7” white guys wearing a tie. I briefly considered removing my tie and smearing dirt on my face as an attempt at camouflage, but then realized I could do little about my height without inflicting great pain on myself and so continued on as I was. So I was a bit worried, in addition to that, many people warned us of the dangers of getting ripped off by taxi drivers. We don't yet have the handle on Spanish to haggle effectively (I.e. using insults about the cab drivers mother, etc) to deal with that situation. So off we went.

Unfortunately there is more to tell and I'm cautious about keeping these things too long. Maybe I'll post again this weekend. Hope everyone is doing well! As a side note, (and as an attempt to appease our offended congregation mates :o) ) Andrew and Jenny are going away to Esteli (poke around on the map you'll find it to the NNW of Managua) for pioneer school. We will miss them terribly. Though we'll be miserable without them, we hope they enjoy it!

written by  Shane Perry on October 2, 2008 from Managua, Nicaragua
from the travel blog: Shane and Vanessa's Nicaraguan Adventure
tagged Managua, Branch, AndrewAndJenny and Ryan
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°°°While on the plane, I choose to make an exception to an old rule as specified here. My golden tenet regarding breast feeding shall henceforth be altered as such: When trapped inside a pressurized tube soaring high above the cumulus line with no chance of escape, mothers can now whip out their teats to silence their unholy demon seeds under these dire circumstances. Your welcome.

°°°I arrive in Miami and feel like I’ve been hit with a jolt of the old Colombian marching powder. I’m beside myself with relief. It’s one thing to feel the warmth again after weathering months of spring but it’s quite another to go from minus two billion degrees to stepping onto the set of fucking Baywatch. I didn’t care how much exhaust I was breathing on the airport taxi stand…I felt like Tim Robbins at the end of Shawshank Redemption.

°°°After 3 hours at Miami international airport, I board my flight to Managua. Since I’m sometimes told (often by individuals belonging to a lesser God) that I tend to brood on the negative, here is a little nugget of gushy goodness to shut them up–Flying with Taca Airlines is the shit! The staff is so friendly, organized and the airline gives you free beer (or whiskey) and free food too. Sure, you’ll only stomach 3 bites of the meal, but it’s the thought that counts.

°°°Managua’s airport is like none I’ve ever seen. It kind of has this vibe of a renovated warehouse-cum-artists loft only without the artist or the art work.

°°°As I expected, when I stepped out of the airport I was the shit and the taxi drivers my flies. I’m well aware of their reputation for guileless scam artistry and resort to waving several of them off until I can back away and get a better idea of the action milling on the taxi stand.

Finally, I settle on a price and choose to go for it. I regret it almost instantly. The windows are so dark it’s like looking at Kitt from Knight Rider. I get in and look forward to tossing off the ruck sack and enjoying my first Nicaraguan meal. My driver quickly introduces me to a very different style of driving culture. We’re talking about suicide jay-walkers, who’s attempts are thwarted by furious honking and a show-no-mercy stomping of the gas pedal.

As we close in on town, the point of the tinted windows becomes clear. Kids were waiting at each street corner, cup in hand, and my driver made sure to keep my windows up to prevent them from approaching me.

At one stop, two boys no older than six each, approached a black jeep, just one car over from my cab. The man in the jeep said something to the boys and that’s when they started whistling towards the back of the traffic like crazy. Suddenly another runt materialized out of nowhere, brandishing a lead pipe, though he didn’t appear keen on using his weapon. Instead, he joined the other two boys in a chorus of whistling.

‘Oh shit,’ I thought, ‘That guy in the jeeps gonna get it’. I told myself that in recalling the time I saw a tourist get swarmed by gypsy kids in Brussels. Eventually, no mob showed up, just a middle aged woman who sold the man lemonade.

My hostel proves to have been the right choice. Swimming pool, close by to a supermarket and other goodies, I can’t wait to get the ball rolling.

--John Breese
NinjaHobo.com

written by  NinjaHobo on January 30, 2009 from Managua, Nicaragua
from the travel blog: Nicaragua is the Cure
tagged Nicaragua and Managua
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