With no other western faces evident in the city at all, it was amusing to bump into Kerry, a native Canadian who had recently made the bold decision to leave family and friends behind in Vancouver to retire in Central America. She was in the process of signing a long term lease on a property n Granada, and planning to live there for the majority of the year. She epitomized the Ulysses Club motto of 'growing old disgracefully', having ridden a large motorcycle from Vancouver to Nova Scotia over her 60th birthday, and then deciding to be living in Nicaragua before she turned 70 later this year. What started as a passing nod in the street ended up as coffee and conversation for a number of hours in a nearby cafe,
One of the delicious features of Granada is knowing that behind every door grill lies a different shaded courtyard and living quarters. The homes in Granada have a different perspective on security and design, focusing on protecting the external walls of the property but leaving homes open and airy. This typically means a 3-sided structure that is open to the elements on the inside edges. Rooms have 3 walls, and the remaining 'wall' is actually open to the courtyard.
They also take a different approach to strata living, although this style of residence is not very common. Where is does exist, the kitchen and laundry are actually large communal areas, and then people have their own private quarters. It is a very social and noisy lifestyle, but lots of fun.
Heading back to the parija, we decided to take advantage of a special deal offered by the hotel on a massage at a nearby salon. For the equivalent of $23, they offer a one hour massage and a lunch at the nearby restaurant. We were initially a bit skeptical about this deal, as it is quite expensive for central American standards. We were certainly not disappointed though, as we were treated to hot stone massage, then deep tissue prodding to relieve those aching shoulder muscles. The lunch was served in a secluded courtyard that encourages guests to relax in a series of nearby hammocks whilst the order is prepared. I could get seriously used to this sort of pre-dinner ritual.
The afternoon was spent wandering through local food markets and looking at the different produce on offer. Many of the fruits are difficult to recognize, even if we do have them in Australia, because the soil is so fertile here and all of the colours are incredibly vibrant.
It was about this time that Ty disappeared...
We detoured enroute back to the hotel to have a quick game of two up with some local kids in the park, then stopped at a small outside bar for a drink or two. This was Gary's first foray into Mojitos. He knocked them back like cokes (cola cola, not the 'other' central american coke) without realizing their potency. With quite a few of these under his belt, it wasn't long before he was feeling no pain.
There wasn't much left of the day, so we opted for a quick nanna-nap then went n search of Ty. No luck. We had pre-dinner drinks nearby, then went in search of Ty. No luck. Giving up on the old boy, we decided to leave a message with the hotel reception and head out to dinner.
As we walked up the main promenade looking for a suitable restaurant, who should we spot but the missing person himself. Ty was propped outside a sidewalk bar (and I do mean propped) with two new coronas opening in front of him. His eyes were literally spinning in his head, and he had lost count of the beer tally. He figured at about 6 an hour over the past 4 hours, that added up to ... lost the rest in slurring. There was no way we could tempt him off the bar stool to dinner, so we agreed to get him (carry him) back after dinner.
Dinner at the Dario in Grenada is a grand affair, with glass top tables that have intricate patterns made from coffee beans underneath. The humidor has a selection of some of the finest Cuban cigars (urrgghh) and the cellar is well stocked. Opting for the pollo con jalapeño was not my smartest move. I had figured that the jalapeños could be moved aside to make a nice and lightly spiced chicken dish. When it arrived, there was not a jalapeño in sight, so I tucked in with gusto. Within minutes I realized that the chilli's were crushed into a fine powder that was a component of the creamy sauce. Even through my pain, I managed to offer Gary a mouthful to help him 'share' the pleasure.
After eating we are heading out to join the party. Nicaraguans really know how to let their hair down, and it's a real party town. That's NOT me in the white trousers, we are the crazy gringos who wiggle like epileptics on the edge with no discernible sense of rhythm (compared to these guys).
It's going to be a tough gig to haul out of bed tomorrow as the spell checker is working overtime on this blog post. The iPad keyboard is tricky enough without being inebriated (try and spell inebriated correctly when you are pissed as a cricket). ...
Off to the volcano tomorrow. First time any of us have seen a live one, whoo hoo.
Location:Grenada, Nicaragua
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