Tuesday, June 12, 2007 (Little Corn Island)
When LP says the spine-crunching journey from Big to Little Corn takes about half an hour, they're only wrong about one thing: it took 40 minutes. There's nothing to hold on to, you have to sit down, and the speed is incredible. I hated it. I mean really hated it with every fiber of my being -- at least by the end. The first few minutes were actually kind of fun. But then it kept going and it went to tolerable. By the 20 or 25 minute mark it was excruciating and hellish and I was cursing the thought to even come out here. It was probably made worse by having had only ~4 hours of hot, fitful interrupted sleep. Then, I get here and find that the clink I heard was not my water bottle, but my flashlight. It's gone, lost to that damnable boat. Fuck it all.

I've also learned now why all the locals didn't put on their life vests when handed out. They were sitting on them as a cushion. I made note of this for the return trip (which wasn't nearly as bad, partly because we were going with the waves instead of against them).

This place seems pricy. I don't like that. If this island isn't the best fucking place in the whole of creation then I'm afraid I may be stuck in this dour mood for a time. I don't like that. iw ant to explore a bit, but then I just want to be left alone on the beach.

As it turns out, everything we'd read about the islands was a big fat lie! Not only were they not the best place in the whole of creation, they weren't even great...not even good. They were lame and...well, I say more on that later.

...we decided to walk and see the lighthouse, then loop the island, getting in some good exercise, too (in flip-flops, amazingly).

This whole experience is going to become something we just don't talk about. It's not like the hellish boatride (will I ever laugh at that? unlikely), or thinking a boat was a whale [something I did by accident on the way over on the boat], or the canoe, or the guy that overcharged us, or a host of other things....

So what happened at the lighthouse? Partway there we met a guy (a local) named Frank who asked if we were going to see the lighthouse. I hate this scam. Cristine said yes and he said he'd take us. We didn't ask him to. And he set a faster pace than we wanted. I suppose we could have said no, thanks, we'll find it ourselves. But like the reserve tickets [I have forgotten what this is in reference to], it was so fast, it was almost as if we couldn't resist....

So we went, Frank convivial and waving his machette around (a warning we should have heeded). I think it was because of that that I didn't want to just leave. I mean, I didn't want to be rude, but that knife was just more incentive. So he leads us, branching on this crazy-ass trail that we may or may not have found alone, and which was much longer than the map made it seem. On we went. C protested three times, but I couldn't think of a good way out and she wasn't offering. Plus, F circumvented us (and threw us off balance) by saying he was a safe man, no one here isn't (bullshit, I say). Maybe if she'd used our phrase, "broken toe," I'd have done something. Maybe it'd have even have [sic] given me the idea I had shortly after: fake an injury, like a twisted ankle, or hurt knee. I should pause here to add that some of the blaming creeping through is very unfair to both of us and totally unproductive. I'm editing some parts of it by not including all of this journal entry, but some of it does help tell the story and I think still gives an idea of the frustrating (and terrifying) experience this was.

But we pressed on, got to the lighthouse at last, and it was not only an unimpressive metal tower, it was an unsafe and monstrous looking exposed ladder and C was getting very inssistent to leave now. So I got insistent with Frank and said we were going now. Back we went, Frank in the lead (probably best with that blade). At the bottom we said we were headed back to town and he said, "what? You got nothing for me?" Ah, the moment I expected. Okay, I can give you whatever loose change I have. A few córdobas, less than I'd thought, but still four; but that wasn't enough. He rejected the 2 50-centavo pieces and then said it wasn't enough to buy rice with. (Bullshit) Unfortunately, my only bills were 50's and 100's. C, getting more and more panicky, finally said to give him a fifty so we could leave. So I did....

On the way back I saw again a boat named The Hard Way. Fitting, I thought. And here's the lesson learned the hard way:

Wednesday, June 13, 2007 (Little Corn Island) After talking this morning with Phillip (one of the managers here) we decided to stay an extra day here rather than go to Big Corn this afternoon as planned. He said that Big Corn was like Little Corn, but without the charm. What charm, I wondered? Perhaps case in point: the only charm is here at Casa Iguana. He recommended either staying another day on Little Corn up at Derrick's, or cutting our Big Corn stay short. We decided because of our flight to San Salvador that cutting anything short wouldn't work, plus we did like this place (and Phillip and Margo), so we'll just stay an extra day. It was easy, sine most people have checked out today.

Nonetheless, resort area aside, this isn't exactly a "tropical paradise." The wind it great, and it is beautiful, but there's this weird vibe off the people, like they want us, but they don't. Or maybe that they don't want us, but if we're going to be here they'll make do by getting from us what they can. This seems exacerbated by being the low season and having few other travelers here.

Phillip syas the place only really started to develop about a decade ago. Before that there was no electricity (it's limited now) and only about 20-30 families making a living by fishing and lobstering. Subtracting the recent (and relatively sudden) appearance of a tourist industry, there is really no infrastructure here. The "roads" are really trails through the woods, the only real main road runs along the southwest portion of the island in "town" and is nothing more than a concrete sidewalk. The only "vehicles" are bikes and wheel barrows, and even those are few. It strikes me that with such a small population this place seems very sustainable with ocean hunting and subsistence agriculture (something Casa Iguana seems to be making strides toward). But there is very little in the way of fresh produce to be found, even of the produce that I see in abundance here (coconut, mango, papaya, banana, plantain, even pineapple, though only one of those per plant per year). But then, friend plantains are common and I see locals with mango a lot, so maybe most of the produce is just kept for the locals. Still, there's a lot of packaged processed food. I'm sure things could be set up differently

Is there a drug smuggling trade here? I keep hearing rumors of it and I don't doubt it. C and I went for a walk on the east beach today and saw a military guy on lookout. Was he watching for drug traffic? Is Frank involved? Where does it go down? There's plenty of hidden, remote, uninhabited (even temporarily) places it could happen on this tiny island that still seems so large. C thinks the people here are holding some kind of secret, or at least gets that impression from the way they act. Could drugs be it? Or is it nothing more than a wariness (even resentment) at this new influx of tourists and outsiders (ex: a few people in town have been generally nice to us, but only the people at Casa Iguana -- English and Spanish speaking alike -- been genuinely nice; I get the vibe that all other niceness is faked or forced or somehow a facade --> another thought: none of the poeple here are locals -- wait, I'll come back to this **)? Or is it something else altogether?

We went snorkeling this morning to see a sunken ship at the reef line, but the waves got too rough and the coral too high (plus, the fins hurt), so we didn't quite make it. I also learned of this ugly fruit called noni: it's a yellowish-green, dimpled, and with specks. Apparently, it's disgusting to eat and even animals won't touch it, but it's hailed as a miracle elixer and the juice or extract is sold in the U.S. (Whole Foods, even) at $60-70/bottle.

** The only people working at Casa Iguana are white Americans (the managers and...group leaders? assistant managers? whatever -- those in control) and dark skinned (Mestizo?) Nicaraguans, who pretty much speak only Spanish. There are no island locals (mainly blacks, who speak an English and English-Creole derivative) employed here. I can't tell why this is. Even among the Nica staff, they are really very nice and want to be helpful; I think this has to do with the fact that they are the highest paid on the island (according to Phillip, who says this is also why there's a low staff turnover).

(evening) There are crabs everywhere at night! I walked back to the room to get money to pay the bill (since we leave early tomorrow) and saw about fifteen just getting from the lodge to the cabana. I think they're rather afraid of humans, and not fond of light. They hear (or feel?) you coming and scurry away, often into holes or under rocks. In the light, they freeze, then try to inch away. And they walk sideways! So cool.

Our cabana

Thursday, June 14, 2007 (Big Corn Island)
Phillip was right: Big Corn Island is like Little Corn Island but without the charm. The boat ride back was much easier (and I also sat in the back and on a life vest). But there's really just nothing here. The beaches are ho-hum, nothing exciting seems to be happening, and it's muggier with less wind. I'm glad we leave early tomorrow; I'm really ready to be back on the mainland and on with this trip. Overall, I'm disappointed with the Corn Islands. They're a lot less than I'd read and less than I'd hoped they'd be.

Side point: C and I keep getting mistaken for a couple.

Friday, June 15, 2007 (Managua Airport, Nic)
I'm in an airport that is smaller than McGee-Tyson in Knoxville (only six gates plus an outdoor loading for domestic flights) yet is an international airport. And part of ti seems closed down for renovations, I think. Somehow, though, the lure of "cosmopolitan" shopping drew me in here and I bought a stick of Toblerone for $5. That's a dorm bed, you know....

We found out the international phone mom and dad got has the wrong plan that AT&T can't fix. This explains why it's been getting no reception anywhere it's supposed to. So it's good only for a time piece for C for the rest of the trip and mom and dad are getting a full refund. So much for technology. At least I have a phone card we can use now.

The owner of the hotel on Big Corn is so nice. She's such a sweet lady, very friendly and offering all sorts of amenities, including the use of a DVD player and movies (we watched The Last Castle and Gangs of New York), free coffee this morning, and a free ride to the airport. Considering there wasn't much else of Big Corn we liked, I'm especially happy about all of that.

Fiber. Back from the islands it's time to get fiber back in my diet. I started getting kind of irregular near the end there and I think it's because there was no cheese, no fresh fruit (or any, really), no whole grains, I haven't touched yogurt in a while, and even the beans have been scarce. I downed two rather ripe bananas straight off the plane today. I'd love an apple or a loaf of whole grain bread, or even white bread and cheese. I had not thought of my diet in this way at all with respect to coming here.

Ever onward, ever upward (literally: we took a plane out of there) to El Salvador!

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