sue_n_julia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sue_n_julia) wrote2005-06-18 06:25 pm
sue_n_julia) wrote2005-06-18 06:25 pm
And wow! Julia speaks!
As Sue said, I’m in Granada, in southern Nicaragua. But it’s been quite a trip.
More details below - maybe more than you want to read.
We started on the right foot: the plane was an hour late boarding, due to mechanical difficulties. But I had hours to wait in Phoenix, so that was fine. The trip was otherwise uneventful, though on the way from Phoenix to San Jose, I got to sit with a Tica (that´s a female Costa Rican), and was reminded that I really do speak “Tico.”
I got in as scheduled at 9:30, and was pleasantly surprised that taxis from the airport were actually cheaper than they used to be. Wow. Unfortunately, that´d be my only pleasant surprise for a while. I went to the Hotel Johnson, one of Sue and my old haunts that ´s been remodeled and reopened after a long closure. Well, sort of. The only thing that’s actually been remodeled is the front desk. The rest of the lobby was just stripped. The rooms don´t seem to have changed a bit. I mean, they polished the wood, but the bathrooms are the same, down to the lights that take over a minute to come on. The carpets are, I´m quite sure, the same ones that were in place in 1998, the last time I stayed there (when I was in Costa Rica in 2002, they were closed).
Actually, one more thing is different – the sagging beds have been replaced with typical Costa Rican beds, which are a mattress on a wooden platform.
Friday morning brought with it a minor crisis. It started well, with me up and out and *shopping*. I went to the best bookstore in San Jose (not counting the little place over by the university, ‘cause that’s in San Pedro, you know?) and spent about $90 on books. Then I left them at the hotel for safekeeping (for which read, so I won’t have to haul them to three other countries). But then I went to the bank to get a cash advance on my credit card.
This is actually a really easy way to move money around, and doesn’t present the “who´s spending what” problem that using the debit card would. But I only carry one credit card, so that if my wallet were stolen we’d only have to deal with one issue. The first bank wouldn´t take Mastercard, but they sent me to a different one. They didn’t open for another half-hour, so I´m left waiting. When I get in, the lady first throws a fit because my signature doesn´t match what’s on my passport, and makes me do it again. Then she calls it in and it´s denied. After I pull my jaw up out of my lap, I then realize that I could be in real trouble.
I’m not entirely unprepared. I travel with cash and traveller´s checks and a credit card and a debit card. But I promised Sue I wouldn´t use the last. And while I can change traveller’s checks, I’d have to change colones to cordobas when I get to Nicaragua tomorrow at a ruinous rate. And I still don´t know what’s up with the credit card, though I suspect that they think it’s being used fraudulently.
So, I change just a little bit of the now precious cash I have and figure out, if I can’t find a place to change travellers checks into dollars, I essentially have $20 a day to make it through the weekend. It´s not impossible, but not the easiest when one is crossing borders. I finally discover that I´m saved: unlike Costa Rican banks, Nicaraguan banks have Saturday hours. This means that I can change money in Nicaragua tomorrow. So, giving up on going to places that will cost me money in Costa Rica, I hop a bus to La Cruz, the last town before the Nicaraguan border.
Now, here´s the punchline. I couldn’t call the credit card company until today. But it turns out that the card was rejected because she gave the wrong expiration date. She gave me this song and dance about how phone verifications are “mas seguro” when I observed that the card had been accepted about an hour before. She was so snotty about it too, when I said that there had to be some mistake, telling me to “call the company.” Idiot. I almost want to go back there to rub her nose in it. But the problem that panicked me yesterday isn’t a problem at all.
Back to La Cruz: Sue and I had been there in 1995, so I was looking forward to a little reunion. And now I´m going to break Sue´s heart: the Mirador, that lovely restaurant where we had so many drinks, is out of business. This place is a restaurant on the edge of a cliff overlooking a stunning bay below. The view alone is worth a small fortune. But apparently the owners ran it into the ground. And it was good – I chatted with a guy on the bus about it, and he too remembers the ceviche.
The night was quiet, though the lights went out for about half an hour, apparently par for the course in La Cruz. In the morning, the owner took me to the border (not out of the goodness of his heart, but because I was paying him the going rate for a taxi). The wait at the border was interminable, because the lights there had been out even longer, and all the equipment was having issues. But finally I crossed over.
I went on to Rivas, the small town where William Walker, the southern expatriot who took over Nicaragua in the 1840s, was turned back by a legendary Costa Rican drummer boy, who set fire to Walker’s command center. He died, of course, but the airport in Costa Rica is named after him, if that helps. I was sort of surprised there to discover horse-drawn taxis. Not the fancy “ride around the park” kind, but the everyday “get you where you need to go” kind. And that’s how I went to the bus station.
BTW, Sue, I owe you thanks. The wheeled luggage has been brilliant. Some places are uneven and it won’t work. But I’ve been able to haul it behind me for long distances.
I finally got to Granada around 2 pm. I’m in a great hostel that has free internet connections, hence my ability to write this screed. I’m going to use this as a home base for my time in Managua. Then I´ll head north.
Granada is a lovely city, though not as colonial as it´s billed. It turns out that William Walker burned it on his way out of Nicaragua (driven out by the people he had ruled), and wrote on the ruins “Here was Granada.” It´s still here, though many older buildings are damaged. It sure isn´t Mexico, or Guatemala.
Tomorrow I’m going to try to multi-task, both play tourist a bit and get to Managua and some libraries. School is in session, so the university libraries ought to have Sunday hours, I’m hoping.
So, all is well on my end. Dunno when I’ll be able to write again, but here it is.
More details below - maybe more than you want to read.
We started on the right foot: the plane was an hour late boarding, due to mechanical difficulties. But I had hours to wait in Phoenix, so that was fine. The trip was otherwise uneventful, though on the way from Phoenix to San Jose, I got to sit with a Tica (that´s a female Costa Rican), and was reminded that I really do speak “Tico.”
I got in as scheduled at 9:30, and was pleasantly surprised that taxis from the airport were actually cheaper than they used to be. Wow. Unfortunately, that´d be my only pleasant surprise for a while. I went to the Hotel Johnson, one of Sue and my old haunts that ´s been remodeled and reopened after a long closure. Well, sort of. The only thing that’s actually been remodeled is the front desk. The rest of the lobby was just stripped. The rooms don´t seem to have changed a bit. I mean, they polished the wood, but the bathrooms are the same, down to the lights that take over a minute to come on. The carpets are, I´m quite sure, the same ones that were in place in 1998, the last time I stayed there (when I was in Costa Rica in 2002, they were closed).
Actually, one more thing is different – the sagging beds have been replaced with typical Costa Rican beds, which are a mattress on a wooden platform.
Friday morning brought with it a minor crisis. It started well, with me up and out and *shopping*. I went to the best bookstore in San Jose (not counting the little place over by the university, ‘cause that’s in San Pedro, you know?) and spent about $90 on books. Then I left them at the hotel for safekeeping (for which read, so I won’t have to haul them to three other countries). But then I went to the bank to get a cash advance on my credit card.
This is actually a really easy way to move money around, and doesn’t present the “who´s spending what” problem that using the debit card would. But I only carry one credit card, so that if my wallet were stolen we’d only have to deal with one issue. The first bank wouldn´t take Mastercard, but they sent me to a different one. They didn’t open for another half-hour, so I´m left waiting. When I get in, the lady first throws a fit because my signature doesn´t match what’s on my passport, and makes me do it again. Then she calls it in and it´s denied. After I pull my jaw up out of my lap, I then realize that I could be in real trouble.
I’m not entirely unprepared. I travel with cash and traveller´s checks and a credit card and a debit card. But I promised Sue I wouldn´t use the last. And while I can change traveller’s checks, I’d have to change colones to cordobas when I get to Nicaragua tomorrow at a ruinous rate.
So, I change just a little bit of the now precious cash I have and figure out, if I can’t find a place to change travellers checks into dollars, I essentially have $20 a day to make it through the weekend. It´s not impossible, but not the easiest when one is crossing borders. I finally discover that I´m saved: unlike Costa Rican banks, Nicaraguan banks have Saturday hours. This means that I can change money in Nicaragua tomorrow. So, giving up on going to places that will cost me money in Costa Rica, I hop a bus to La Cruz, the last town before the Nicaraguan border.
Now, here´s the punchline. I couldn’t call the credit card company until today. But it turns out that the card was rejected because she gave the wrong expiration date. She gave me this song and dance about how phone verifications are “mas seguro” when I observed that the card had been accepted about an hour before. She was so snotty about it too, when I said that there had to be some mistake, telling me to “call the company.” Idiot. I almost want to go back there to rub her nose in it. But the problem that panicked me yesterday isn’t a problem at all.
Back to La Cruz: Sue and I had been there in 1995, so I was looking forward to a little reunion. And now I´m going to break Sue´s heart: the Mirador, that lovely restaurant where we had so many drinks, is out of business. This place is a restaurant on the edge of a cliff overlooking a stunning bay below. The view alone is worth a small fortune. But apparently the owners ran it into the ground. And it was good – I chatted with a guy on the bus about it, and he too remembers the ceviche.
The night was quiet, though the lights went out for about half an hour, apparently par for the course in La Cruz. In the morning, the owner took me to the border (not out of the goodness of his heart, but because I was paying him the going rate for a taxi). The wait at the border was interminable, because the lights there had been out even longer, and all the equipment was having issues. But finally I crossed over.
I went on to Rivas, the small town where William Walker, the southern expatriot who took over Nicaragua in the 1840s, was turned back by a legendary Costa Rican drummer boy, who set fire to Walker’s command center. He died, of course, but the airport in Costa Rica is named after him, if that helps. I was sort of surprised there to discover horse-drawn taxis. Not the fancy “ride around the park” kind, but the everyday “get you where you need to go” kind. And that’s how I went to the bus station.
BTW, Sue, I owe you thanks. The wheeled luggage has been brilliant. Some places are uneven and it won’t work. But I’ve been able to haul it behind me for long distances.
I finally got to Granada around 2 pm. I’m in a great hostel that has free internet connections, hence my ability to write this screed. I’m going to use this as a home base for my time in Managua. Then I´ll head north.
Granada is a lovely city, though not as colonial as it´s billed. It turns out that William Walker burned it on his way out of Nicaragua (driven out by the people he had ruled), and wrote on the ruins “Here was Granada.” It´s still here, though many older buildings are damaged. It sure isn´t Mexico, or Guatemala.
Tomorrow I’m going to try to multi-task, both play tourist a bit and get to Managua and some libraries. School is in session, so the university libraries ought to have Sunday hours, I’m hoping.
So, all is well on my end. Dunno when I’ll be able to write again, but here it is.
no subject
I knew the wheeled luggage would be handy -- I remember carrying 140 lbs (when they finally weighed it at the airport) and straining my back.
Too bad about El Mirador -- at least we have the memories.
S