Wouldn't be a trip to Nicaragua without hitch hiking at least once...
The cars were all accounted for by perhaps some better prepared travelers...there were no attended taxis and the parked ones we presumed were waiting for particular passengers and we were basically in the middle of nowhere. Just when I began to process this reality and confirmed my lack of cell signal, a group of Nicaraguans headed by a tall, blonde, American surfer started piling into their Toyota Hilux beside us. The surfer asked if we needed a ride as the older of the 2 boys helped him secure his board in the back of the pickup. Brian said 'sure where are you headed', 'San Juan' he replied as if that was a given. This seemed like the better of two options with the other being living out on own Survivor series and trekking it back to town on foot...
He let me ride in the front while Brian jumped in the back with the 5 kids ranging in age from 5 to possibly 18...2 boys and 4 girls...
I climbed in the backseat of the pickup and was sandwiched between 2 generations, la abuela to my left and la mama to my right. Surfer (we never did catch his name) and his esposa in the front...and of course el perro.
Everyone was aboard and we backed up onto the dirt road...surfer took a swig for his newly opened Tona (and replaced it in his cup holder) and asked his wife for his wedding band back...she looked like she was no more than 20 and he had to be at least 30...he slid the ring on his hand and they chatted in very basic Spanish...
Something about the festival tomorrow and the full moon party tonight at the farm, 'quierimos ir a la fiesta del noche?' she asked, 'porque no!' he replied...
He barreled down the roads with little regard for everyone in back although he seemed to periodically look in the rearview every now and then, I suppose to make sure no one had flown out...
Some fleeting anxieties drifted through my mind...maybe this is an elaborate plan of kidnapping us? Or maybe we're going somewhere else (how the hell would we know the right way back?!)...but I hoped he was just being friendly...which fortunately turned out to be the case. He dropped us off out front of their house and refused any payment. We thanked them and headed down the one block to the beach just in time to watch the sunset as an impromptu futbol game developed. We chose the Italian restaurant (Fidel told us that the owner is Italian and makes all the dough at home so as not to spoil his secret recipe)...got a margherita pizza and a couple of Tonas as we watched the sun set for the last time on SJDS.
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