Nicaragua Dispatch 02/22/2012 or At the End of This Part of the World

The sun is setting next to the Concepción Volcano and Howler Monkeys are calling further up the slopes of Maderas, the inactive volcano that hosts this part of Ometepe Island in Lake Colcibolca. Breezes rustle in trees inhabited by the local Urruca (spelling approximate) or Magpie Jay, a bird that looks like a cross between a blue jay and a magpie which wears a hat designed by Dr. Seuss just as a finishing touch. The "normal" 60-cycle hum of electronic life is absent, and its lack is vaguely disorienting.

We are at Topoco Ecolodge, an environmentally self-sustaining tourist facility about a third the way up the slope of Maderas. Power here is generated by solar cells, and all the toilets are composting toilets, or  the high-tech descendants of outhouses. Still, there is Internet service here, albeit slow, and even Wi-Fi. There is a bar where I can get Victoria or the dreaded Toña beer and there is a restaurant that serves meals which may be more healthy than good. We shall see, as any ohe high-tech descendants of outhouses. Still, there is Internet service here, albeit slow, and even Wi-Fi. There is a bar where I can get Victher eating establishment is a long way away starting by going down a mile or so of amazingly bad brick road.

We arrived here after a long ride from Granada to San Jorge along the Pan American Highway which despite the name is a two-lane paved road. San Jorge announced itself with a statue of San Jorge slaying the dragon at the city gates. Gustavo drove us to the port where several "launcitas" we're waiting to pick up passengers for the trip to Ometepe Island. It was a good thing we were waiting for the Ometepe Ferry because some of these boats looked barely capable of making the crossing without breaking up into the scrap lumber from which they were seemingly constructed.

After a time the Ometepe Ferry came into sight, lurching around in the heavy waves on the lake and I frankly worried about its seaworthiness. We made the crossing successfully while watching the Nicaraguan equivalent of MTV or VH1, but I was somewhat relieved to be picked up by Luis, our driver from the Ecolodge. Topoco was yet an hour away.

It's an interesting drive, sometimes beautiful and sometimes depressing -- a combination I've found to be typical of Nicaragua. Small horses, descendants of those the Spanish brought in colonial times, run free on the streets. There are also large goats on the streets that could vie for the jobs of the horses. Finally we turned off the main road, paved with flat cobblestones, and unto a road heading up the mountain that was built from cobblestones that were now strewn in impossible ways. Was it rough? If I needed a massage I don't now.

So now I'm at the end of the world, or at least this part of the world. The sun has set and I'm contemplating a Victoria at the restaurant about 200 feet away. The Urracas have gone to sleep but I hear unfamiliar calls from the trees. I think I'll miss my bats tonight.