Boat, taxi, bus, bus, taxi, hotel, taxi, bus, missed bus=taxi, Granada. My epic thirty-seven hour journey to Granada was a lesson learned about many things, including my physical limits and my travel savvy. My journey began early and solo, knowing the next 2 days would be in solitude brought mixed emotions; a part of me was excited for the time to think and reflect, while my other more social/practical half was considering how boring and expensive solo travel is.
Day one although, long boring and very hot went well. I made it to Tegucigalpa without a problem. I decided to treat myself to a more expensive air-conditioned hotel with a big bed and a hot shower. I fell asleep at 8pm and got some much needed rest. I woke in the morning to a call from the front desk, my cab was over thirty minutes early to pick me up! I rushed to pack, get dressed and get my cab. The taxi went across town to the bus station barreling down alleys and almost hitting several pedestrians along the way. I arrived at the bus station in one piece but so early, it was not open. I reluctantly got out of the cab and the drive proceeded to demand I pay him twice the agreed price. "What?" I said, then in my best broken Spanish I attempt to negotiate the price once again. He finally agreed to $13, five more than we originally agreed. I paid him with $20 and asked for change, then rather than give me change he drove away!!! What a creepy, nasty jerk.
Sitting in a very sketchy part of the city I sat and waited for the bus station to open. Not two minutes after I arrived a strange drunken man was pushing himself against me and asking me if I wanted to have sex. A bit worried, but mostly disgusted I began knocking very loudly on the gate of the bus station. Luckily, someone came to the gate, told the creepy man to go away and let me in to the bus station ten minutes before opening time. I shook it off thinking, I'd rather that creepy old man than someone with a knife or gun.
On the bus I found myself very uncomfortable, the seat was not at all supportive and my lower back was throbbing. I remember thinking, "I must have slept funny last night." As we made our way towards the Honduras-Nicaragua border the amount of pain in my lower back and left leg was increasing. I kept getting up to stretch but it did nothing to alleviate the pain. The border crossing took forever, the lines were very long, but over all it was a simple hassle free crossing.
Back on the bus I realized the time spent at the border was going to make the bus arrive late and make me miss the last bus of the day to Granada. After debating the pros and cons of staying in Managua vs. taking a cab to Granada; I decided my exhausted and sore body needed a cab to Granada that night. My feet barely on the ground in Managua, I was surrounded by taxi drivers fighting to take me to Granada, I went for the least creepy for the best price ($25) driver and jumped in the car. The one hour drive was spent chatting with my taxi driver, Raul, in Spanish. Raul said I spoke Spanish very well, but I think he was being nice; the two weeks I spent in Utila not speaking Spanish were catching up with me, my grammar was terrible. At some point during the taxi ride the pain in my leg went away and left a numb feeling in its place, I mistakenly assumed this was "healing".
As I limped into my hostel I noticed the numb feeling was now turning to a throbbing feeling, shooting from my lower back down my left leg to the heel. I checked into my hostel, hoisted myself into the assigned top bunk and passed out, hoping I would wake up in the moring without pain. Around 3am, I woke up in extreme pain, my leg felt like it was on fire. That's when I noticed I wasn't alone in my bed, there were at least six bed bugs feeding on me while I slept. In sever pain and disgusted by yet another hostel with bed bugs, I painstaking climbed out of the bed and went to lay in a hammock.
When I got in to the hammock, I began to cry, I had no idea what was wrong with my leg and in my middle of the night-quasi dazed state, I started worrying. Crazy, crazy thoughts went through my head. "What if something bit/stung me?" "What if they have to cut my leg off?" What if I hurt like this for the rest of my life?" Now hyperventilating from pain and panic, the hostel security guard came over to me. As I tried to explain in Spanish why I was freaking out, he started giggling, he said he knew what was wrong with my back, my leg was not falling off, his mother has the same problem and if I wanted he would help me find an English speaking doctor in the morning. He then got me some ice for my back/leg and a pillow for my hammock.
Early the next morning (I didn't really sleep), I went to see a doctor for what I now know was a pinched sciatic nerve. The doctor didn't do much but verify my nerve was pinched, tell me to ice my back, stay off my feet for three days and give me some wacky Nicaragua pain killers. Expecting a sizable bill I was shocked my doctor visit, including the pills, was only $8. Yay cheap healthcare!
Back at my hostel I was presented with a challenge. I told the reception, my room had bed bugs and they said, "still". This made me very angry , "still", implies they knew the room had bed bugs but put people in there anyway. Had I been able bodied I would have looked for a new hostel but unable to walk, let alone carry my bag, I opted to stay; although they did give me a new room and an easier to access bottom bunk.
I spent the next three days watching movies and laying on my back. Had I not overheard a negative sounding conversation about lobbyists, I might not have met anyone at my hostel. Two American guys, Tyler (Ty) and Cameron were speaking poorly of lobbyists and I couldn't help myself, I felt the need to remind them some lobbyists, lobby for good things and the many horrible aspects of politics were not solely the result of lobbying. Our conversation then took on many forms and we spent a great deal of time talking politics, history and travel.
Finally able to limp my way through the city, I went for a small walk. On my very short walk, several Nicaraguan men called at me, yelled at me and chased me down the street. Dressed conservatively and limping; I was horrified at the intensity of their behavior. That's when a jerk on a motorcycle pulled up next to me and grabbed my backside, my still throbbing backside!!! What is wrong with Nicaraguan men? Women are not yours to grab, hiss at or cat call!!!! Arrrggghhhh!
I rushed back into my hostel, and one of the men who was following me for several blocks, followed me inside. The woman at the front desk greeted me by name and then told the man to leave. Two hours later, when I tried to leave my hostel again, standing directly outside the door, was the guy who had followed me in! Now calling me by name and chasing me down the street as I tried to go to the ATM. I stormed back into my hostel (without going to the ATM); angry, frustrated and feeling like a prisoner. I saw Ty packing his things and asked where he was headed. Then packed my things and informed Ty and his four Belgian travel mates I was going to follow them; I couldn't spend another minute in Granada.*
*please do not let this discourage you from visiting Granada, it is a beautiful city. It just happens to have some very ugly citizens.
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