May pole is a big celebration on the Atlantic coast of
Nicaragua. May is also when the rainy season starts here. I experienced both
and it was wonderful!
According to my trusty volunteer sources, May Pole came to
the Atlantic coast of Nicaragua with the English and they turned it into their
own…I have to say I like their version a lot more!
First you should all know that the Atlantic Coast is the
Caribbean side of Nicaragua, and even though the country itself is about the
size of New York state, it is very different depending on where you are. On the
Atlantic Coast of Nicaragua, they speak Spanish, and Creole (which is a crazy
mixture of English Creole and Spanish words mixed in) I cant understand it, AT
ALL!, but it is probably the sexiest language
I have ever heard!
There are fewer volunteers on the Atlantic coast because it
has even less infrastructure and some parts are very dangerous. In general the
Atlantic Coast is much less developed, the main city Bluefields being the
exception. There is also a lot of racism within Nicaragua, and the rest of the
country does not have a good grasp of what the Caribbean side has to offer. The
volunteers who do live there have worked very hard to try and spread cultural
awareness between different parts of Nicaragua through national pen pal
programs and educational videos. They organized a fund raiser trip for May Pole
which I ended up going to and it was quiet an adventure!
Even though the country is not that big, transportation here
takes a lot longer, especially to Bluefields which only has one access road.
There are only two ways to get to Bluefields; pay $100.00 for an airplane or
pay $25.00 and take a 9 hour bus ride overnight, wait in a terminal for 2
hours, and then you are just a 2 hour panga ride away from your destination.
Guess which one I did? That’s right! I am still takin’ the long way round!
The bus was not so bad because a lot of volunteers went
(about 20 of us) so I felt safe traveling in numbers and I actually fell
asleep. The way back was way worse! Apparently there is an even longer way to
get back if you take a chicken bus (transformed from an old American school
bus) the whole way…and during the day…which means so much sun and people
selling stuff, and sweaty men sitting next to you lifting their shirts up to
expose their giant round bellies, and cool themselves off while dripping all
over you. Incase you have forgotten American school buses are not made for fat
adult men, and even for kids they have a limit of persons..well not here! As
many as can squish in-go.
Anyway, it was still a wonderful trip. Aftering waiting in a
boat terminal for the first “panga” or river boat to arrive, and fighting with
a large woman from the coast at 3am for trying to charge me double for the
bathroom, we slipped and slidded down the wet docks and got on our two hour
river boat ride…it is an understatement to say I was grumpy, from two hours of
sleep and an argument I never had a fighting chance at winning. But I got some
coconut bread and gallo pinto in my system, took a cold shower and rested for a
bit in the stifling heat that is Bluefields. The nights were much more pleasant
and we were supposed to go out for drinks and dancing but the electricity went
out so we all ended up just sitting around in the dark, but I think we all are
used to that, and it is a lot nicer to sit in the dark with company then alone!
My friend Molly and I, waiting for the Panga boat at 5am
I was only there for 4 days so I really had to make the most
out of it! The following day I took another panga to “El Bluff” which was just
a beautiful island off of Bluefields, completely undeveloped. When we got off
the boat we could not figure out where to go, and so one of the passengers
offered to show us (this is what I love about being a Peace Corps volunteer,
even when you are not in your community you are recognized as part of a
network, most Nicaraguans know someone from Peace Corps, and you are
automatically accepted as a non-tourist). There was not a soul on the beach and
we just walked up and down, after which the black flies chased us into the
ocean so we swam for awhile and then got back on another panga to go back.
The beach at el bluff.
When we got back in the afternoon the May Pole parade had
started each “barrio” or neighborhood had a different costume and a different
look. They were all dancing in the streets playing the drums, and it was by far
the best parade I have ever seen here (probably because there were no scarry looking
‘saints’ dolls being carries around) We sat on the corner, watching the parade,
eating a local dish called “Run Down” which is anything cooked in coconut milk,
but traditionally cooked with turtle meat, so ofcourse I had to try it!…it was
a bit chewy, but good and creamy. However, later I found out that turtle meat
is not exactly a sustainable fishing practice with turtle meat, and that it is
a bad practice, so if you go! Best have your “Run Down” with fish or shrimp
instead…but I am still glad I tried it. J As the parade neared
an end we just joined the party and started dancing with them. Men had spray
paint cans and lighters….it was like a super dangerous firework show…people
were dancing super intensely…grinding on each other, breaking it down, it was
mesmerizing. That night we had a big party and stayed out until the wee hours
of the morning. It poured down rain, but that did not stop us, we just kept
dancing, soaking wet and barefoot.
Above: My friend Molly eating Turtle Run Down. Example of some of the costumes in the parade.
Dancing in the rain after the parade. My friends Molly, Michaela, Elise, and I.
The next day I woke up feeling completely fine, which
greatly surprised me, since I had been drinking the local rum all night… but
perhaps dancing in the rain washed everything away??? Anyway we got up early to
go to the next adventure in Pearl Lagoon…just another panga ride away! It was
about a 2 hour ride in boat that kind of
looks like a long tail, we rode through the mangroves and it was quiet
lovely until it started to pour down rain, then out comes this big plastic tarp
and the people start putting it over our heads…and so we sat all 15 passengers
squished in this river boat, bent under a plastic tarp, listening to the
clashing of the wind and the tarp and feeling the big rain drops pound down on
our heads….It was such a nice way to make the transition from the big drum
party the night before to our next island adventure.
Above: Me soaking wet, after one to many morning panga rides... Bellow: Friends in a kayak in Pearl Lagoon.
Now mind you, a stormy rainy day is not the best weather to
go explore lots of tiny little islands in a Panga, but we went any way. Once we
got to Pearl Lagoon, we met with the volunteer who lives there, filled up on
some trusty gallo pinto cooked in coconut oil with eggs and a hot roll, and we
went to go find out about hiring a boat out to the islands. We headed into the
restaurant area where the boats leave from (it was about 9am) and there are
just a bunch of guys drinking beer. They start asking lots of questions about
Obama, and why some states have legalized gay marriage, and what religion we
are..these men were wasting no time… but neither were we. Neing the weathered
volunteers we are and functioning on two hours of sleep, we through out all the
perefect phrases to avoid any confrontational conversation! Biding our time,
trying to steer the conversation in a safe direction, we wait to take off on
our island adventure.
We are no longer in the safety of mangrove forests but in
the open seas on a rainy day.…Big waves start appearing and it was two hours of
me wishing I was in better shape so all my fatty parts would stop bouncing
around uncontrollably and using all of
my bus riding and snowboarding skills together to try and ride the waves through
the hard surface of the Panga…people were getting thrown off their seats and
most of them ended up just sitting on the flooded boat floor…I held on so tight
my arm was soar the next day. But paradise was just a panga ride away!
Kate and I pulling away from our little island paradise back on the Panga.
The island of the pearl keys are a hidden gem, which I am
sure will soon be discovered, but right now the difficult transport makes them
slightly inaccessible, and they are still pristine beaches,, with nothing but
palm trees. For lunch we ate fresh fish and shrimp cooked in coconut oil under
yet another black plastic tarp, eating out of big plastic bowls and huddled
around the fire, soaking wet in our bathing suits, trying to explain to the
panga driver Jimmy, , that contrary to popular Nicaraguan belief it would not
harm us to be wet and be nearby the fire. That night we saw the local night
life, of mostly crusty old men (the same ones who had been there in the
morning) nursing beers and trying to talk politics. We fell asleep to the
familiar buzzing sound of mosquitoes and woke up to the familiar itching body
after yet another two hours of sleep. However, this time there was no panga
ride in store…it turns out the panga is the best way to go because we left on
what would turn out to be a 12+ hr journey back to Managua, full of people
shouting their good for sales through every possible air vent and waiting for
inexplicable amounts of time to pull out of bus stations, all the while being
dripped on by your sweaty neighbors belly.
Would I do it again???? I am not sure… but I am happy I
went, and it was the first real adventure I have had outside of my site, and
you all know: I am all about those character building adventures!
