Nicaragua Border Crossing

To wrap up our lovely week (our favorite still, and its June as I write this!) with Sean and Joanna, someone (I) got the hair brained idea (sorry) that we should drive to Nicaragua and back, by ourselves, in one day.

Don’t get me wrong, going to Nicaragua, specifically Granada, and back in one day it totally doable. They sell tours all the time for just that. Tours that cost $165 apiece. Well, I (or was it Justin?) decided that this obviously wasn’t worth the cost and we were fully able to take the trip on our own. No guide, barely a map (do google screenshots count?), and no idea what to expect at the border.

Joanna and Sean by Lake Nicaragua

Well, first things first, we learned that you cannot take rental cars across international borders in Central America. No problem we’ll get a cab! It won’t be so bad—just wait, you’ll see. 

The day started uneventful enough. We got up early, left the house (I think it was, I don’t know, 6am…), and were on our way. Other than a pit stop to the side of the Pan-American highway for me to pee on the side of the road (yeah, that happened. Bucket list: check!) the two hour ride to the border was relatively uneventful.

Enter: nearly two mile long line of semi-trucks. Were we supposed to wait behind them, go around them? Over them, perhaps--who knew? Ultimately we followed a pickup around the line and for the length of the semi-truck train, we drove up the freeway going north in the southbound lane. We only encountered a few cars barrelling full speed toward us, but no matter, they didn’t seem to mind veering around us when we stared ahead wide eyed, saying our final prayers and crossing ourselves (are any of us even Catholic?).

Speaking of being Catholic, here we are heading into the Granada Cathedral

After that trauma, we made it to what seemed bordery-enough. We parked the car. Then got back in, thinking we’d parked in the wrong spot, drove in a giant circle around more bordery official-looking buildings, then ended up eventually parking in the same spot we started in. Waving off the guy that insisted he’d “watch car, keep safe, only twenty dolla” (and then attempted to “wash car, five dolla,” when we said no) we attempted to sort out the confusing mess that is the Nicaraguan/Costa Rican border. No signs marked anything, anywhere. Not in Spanish, not in English, not in any ish. Nothing, nada. We probably walked in and out of Nicaragua without knowing it at least six times before we figured out where the hell we were supposed to go. After about twenty minutes of wandering, Joanna announces “I am not comfortable with this! I want to leave, we should have taken the tour!” All I could think was “I hear you, sister” combined with “Justin (or was it I) got us into this. We are doing it come hell or high-water.” Saying neither of these things, I attempted to ease Joanna’s discomfort by trying to figure out where to get our entry stamps after we finally got our exit stamps.

Needless to say, you have to walk about a half mile to officially enter Nicaragua, pay a random $1.00 fee (we still aren’t sure if that was legit) and then go far to your left through a little, random, totally-not-noticable double door in a wall (seriously, you can’t make this up) and them blamo: you’re in Nicaragua!

Well, welcome to the country north of Costa Rica. Suddenly we are thrust into a taxi cab that is all but falling apart and paying a nominal fee (I think it was $40) to drive for TWO HOURS to Granada. Joanna, if I didn’t say so then, I’m really sorry about that! The airconditioned tour bus would certainly have been more comfortable than being smashed into the backseat of a car with no seat belts and a speed crazed driver. 

So, we were on our way. By the time we made it to Granada, we were all in such sour moods, it didn’t seem to make a real difference. A shame really, because the little colonial town really was adorable. 

See, look at this cute main square!

We were also all famished, so we stopped at the first restaurant we found, right off the main square. Now, having five solid months on travel under my belt, I can tell you now with confidence that you NEVER do this. KEEP WALKING! These places are tourist traps and often serve the worst food. Justin is still complaining about the "turkey sandwich" that he was served. It would never have occurred to him to order it sans ketchup, because, well, it was a turkey sandwich. Alas, it arrived with the lovely red stuff, and yellow mustard to boot (the only food Justin actually hates) so he munched on his french fries instead. The only redeeming quality was that the Pepsis were about $.50 each, compared to $2.00 in Costa Rica. Once we’d filled our gullets we wandered around the square a bit, took a look at the church, and then took a stroll down the main promenade—only to find ALL of the other restaurants. Irish food and Chinese food and American hamburgers, steaks, Brazilian Rodisio, three star Michelin sushi (ok, I may have made that last one up). As we continued walking (the street was cute, after all--see below) Justin just got angrier and angrier. We’d settled on the worst food in the whole city, as far as we knew, and now there was nothing to be done. We settled on getting some gelato from a fancy looking place in the end and tried not to be too bitter.

Guadalupe Church, near Lake Nicaragua

Granada's lovely restaraunt street

Another reason you should take the tour, as we learned, is that your travel is taken care of and you have longer than, say, four hours in the city. We actually spent longer driving to and from Granada than we did in the city. So, so lame. After we each bought a painting (Justin and I are trying to get one piece of art from every country we visit) we met the cab driver again and piled in for the long drive to the border. Much to our pleasure (and chagrin, I think) about half way through the drive home and promptly after Justin was serenaded by a crazy homeless person at the gas station, our cabbie asked “you want air?” to which we mentally replied “as in, AIR, air. As in, 'we’ve had air-conditioning this whole time and you only just now thought to mention it?!' YES, we want air!” No, we didn’t really say that. We said simply “si” and exchanged incredulous glances at each other in silence. It was so hot, any relief was welcome.

Crystal and Sean outside Guadalupe Church

Justin at Lake Nicaragua (looking a WHOLE lot like his dad!)

In the end, we made it safely back to the hotel, toasted with much needed beer, and laughed over our ridiculous day. Only then did I tell Joanna that I completely understood how she was feeling when we entered the border the first time. We looked at the four new stamps we each got in our passport (two exit, two entry) and slept pretty soundly that night, indeed.

The next day, we had to bid adieu to Joanna and Sean. It was incredible to have them visit us, to go on adventures, and have a little taste of home in Costa Rica. After we dropped off Rudy Bego (sniffle, it was soooo nice to have a car) and waited an hour for the bus to pick us up, it was back to reality. Albeit, a pretty awesome reality, but one unfortunately devoid of home, which we miss tremendously. As I said before, Joanna and Sean’s visits remains our favorite week on our trip so far. Come back and see us again in Europe, guys! We miss you already.