El Salvadoran Wedding Registry

The Man. The Legend. Evan Mario Luthye.

I met Evan while attending Cornell College. We both played football. We both pledged to the same fraternity. We both liked cheese. It was a good friendship from the start. Since then, Evan has been a fantastic friend, way better than I could ever hope to be, so I felt compelled to make an effort to get him and his beautiful bride-to-be, Becca, a thoughtful gift for their wedding. Evan's father's family is from La Libertad in El Salvador, so I traveled to the small Central American village to find a gift there...

...well, full disclosure, I was already in the area and figured I'd stop by.

I departed Nicaragua aboard a shuttle that cost approximately $40. It left early in the morning so we could cross two international borders and arrive in the small town of El Tunco before the day was over. Although I am comfortable taking the cheaper local buses while traveling within one country, I had heard enough border crossing horror stories from other travelers to encourage me to take a more accredited shuttle company.

When I arrived in El Tunco, I procured a shared room at a hostel just around the corner from the main road. The Tunco Lodge is located across the alley from the Rio El Tunco, a small murky stream that slowly flows from the surrounding mountains into the Pacific Ocean. Although I only paid for a shared room, the owner mistakenly grabbed the key to a private room. By the time he discovered his error he didn't want to retrieve the correct key, so he gave me the private room instead (for the same price). I was happy to accept the upgrade.

After exploring the beach-side restaurants and walkways, I ordered four pupusas from a small roadside stand. A thick tortilla shell with a cheesy savory filling, the pupusa is the official dish of El Salvador. After lunch I returned to the hostel pool where I conversed with fellow travelers. The majority of individuals who visit this town have one intention, to ride the epic waves pounding this part of the Central American Coastline. So surfing was usually the topic of most of my conversations, however, I'll gladly listen to someone else tell me something about which they are passionate (even though I have never surfed a day in my life).

The next day I paid twenty-five american cents to board a local bus and travel the short distance south to Puerto de La Libertad, the home of Manolo Flamenco, father to Antonio Flamenco, and grandfather to Evan Mario Luthye. As soon as I got off the bus in La Libertad, however, it was clear this "small village" was really more of a city and thus any hopes of running into someone who may know the Flamenco family vanished. I made a few attempts at talking with shop owners as to whether they knew the family, but combined with my broken Spanish this request was not received all that well.

I spent the day at the fish market located on the long wooden pier jetting into the Pacific Ocean with wall to wall vendors. The most captivating fare was a bag of baby hammerheads one gentleman dumped directly onto the wooden planks of the pier. Before I could take a photo all the little sharks had been snapped up by local consumers. This market is probably not up to FDA standards, but fresh nonetheless.

In the end, I found some local vendors along the boardwalk from which to purchase my wedding gifts for Evan and Becca. The first, a small framed piece of art featuring a feather on which the artisan painted a few brightly colored Macaws. The second, two young girls who made jewelry for a local organization that supports young female entrepreneurs. I figured a necklace made of some local beads would be sufficient to fulfill Becca's hippie standards.

After a few more nights in El Tunco, complete with a few cafes (solo negro, por favor) in the mornings and more conversations with new friends, I hopped a shuttle with a few other travelers to traverse the final length of the small coastal country to its northern border, observing the remnants of past volcanic activity and a plethora of colorful flora, before entering Guatemala. About an hour later we crossed one more border taking us back into Honduras where my Central American adventure began almost three months prior.

This final border crossing allowed me to utilize the full extent of my knowledge of the Spanish language. We had just exited El Salvador, entered Guatemala, was exiting Guatemala and attempting to re-enter Honduras, all within a couple hours. It should have been a straight forward process, however, the gentleman at the Guatemala port of entry had post dated our visa stamps in our passports. Because of this oversight, the port of exit from Guatemala couldn't just give us an exit stamp with the correct date because, according to their system, none of us had technically entered the country yet. Although our driver quickly stepped in to help, I still had to explain my three months of travel itinerary to the immigration representative - all in Spanish. Although I'm sure I sounded like a toddler to her, I must have made a little sense because she ultimately stamped my passport with the correct date and I was allowed to leave the country.

Content with my recent accomplishment of troubleshooting an international immigration problem in another language, I settled into the rest of the trip as we made our way to the town of Copan Ruinas in Honduras. However, I still had one more adventure remaining before returning to the United States. Stay tuned for that in the next blog.

Thanks again for reading. I apologize for the longer interval between the last post. I'm moving around bit and will hopefully get back on a better routine soon. I'm settling down in Denver now and will continue writing from here. Talk with you soon!

Dustin

Probably what Evan looked like as a kid.

Omotepe: Where the Evacuation Plan is the Other Volcano

He walked on the bus with a machete...

...his name was German (pronounced "Erman"), and he also had a few coconuts for sale. He tried to sell me one but I had just purchased a bag of chicken parts from another vendor. I was also riding in a traditional Bluebird school bus that was pimped out with chrome bumpers, neon lights, and iconic business decals such as Bose, Apple, and Nike. This experience is common while traveling on local buses throughout Central America. Be prepared to be woo'ed by a plethora of middle aged men trying to entice you to take their particular school bus. Some days this situation may seem daunting, but other days it makes you feel like the prettiest girl at the ball. The ball, of course, being a crowded bus station.

After I left Leon I headed south towards the popular ex-pat town of San Juan Del Sur. I originally had no intention of visiting this small surfer town as it seemed that it was merely a party place known exclusively for its "Sunday Funday" festivities. In fact, other travelers tried to convince me this was the original location for such activities, but I made sure to let them know that folks in Iowa have been drinking on Sundays for decades. 

To be sure, that's pretty much all that exists in this town - westernized bars and an affinity for the American dollar as opposed to the Nicaraguan cordoba. That is not to say the natural beauty of this location does not amaze as the town sits in a small cove protected from the waves with hills on all sides. However, if you're looking for more than a party then it's probably time to move on after a few days. My advice would be to stay in one of the smaller beach towns up the coast or the Naked Tiger Hostal just outside of town. 

San Juan was the furthest south I planned to go, which was only a few miles from the border of Costa Rica. After a few nights and some photos next to the Jesus statue, I hopped a bus and headed back north to San Jorge, a small town with ferries to the island of Omotepe in the middle of Lake Nicaragua, however some maps call it Lago Cocibolca. Made up of two active volcanoes - Volcan Maderas and the larger Volcan Concepcion - Omotepe has only a few small roads surrounding both peaks and although it is fresh water, sharks have been known to enter the lake from the outlets connected to the surrounding oceans. Good thing I found this out after four days of swimming, huh?

The crown jewel of activities for travelers to embark on while visiting the island is to hike one of the two volcano peaks. To clarify, some would not refer to these volcanoes as "active." However, like most of the volcanoes in Nicaragua, previous eruptions have occurred only within the last few decades, and this geologist will call any volcano that has erupted within the last century as "active." That being said, I hiked up Volcan Maderas which happened to be the less active by comparison.

Most guides recommend you allow 8-10 hours for a round trip hike, and depending on your hiking ability, group size, and fitness level I would agree with that estimate. My guide and now friend, Sergio, had different intentions, however. Once he discovered that I had hiked the entire Appalachian Trail, he took it upon himself to use me as a training partner. Every year there is a marathon on the island where runners will summit both peaks over the course of the race and Sergio had the goal of completing the race the following year.

 

As we double timed the pace, we passed howler monkeys and beautiful flora that glistened in the mist of the previous two days of rainfall. We made it to the caldera (the specific name given to craters formed after volcano eruptions) in just under three hours. What makes Maderas a little more appealing than Concepcion is the small lake that sits in the crater, and as soon as I saw that body of water I shed my clothes and went for a swim. 

The rest of my time on the island was spent relaxing at the Tiki Bar, a small hostal that won't pop up on any Google search, a place I only found because my first shuttle driver happened to know the family. Pigs, chickens, dogs, turtles, and giant toads all seemed to call this place home. The family - Evelyn, Louis, and Christian - were a wonderful group and if you're on the island I suggest finding this place which is located along Playa Santa Cruz between the two peaks.

There are plenty of places to stay throughout the island, and though it may be tempting to just stay in the port town of Moyogapla because of the high prices of cabs and shuttles, I highly recommend staying in one of the smaller towns (If you're up for a bus ride it helps decrease the cost). Once you're settled, you can rent a scooter or motorcycle and explore the island more freely on your own. Make sure to take photos, however, as many people have been forced to pay erroneous fees and charges by the rental places upon returning the vehicles.

Sergio and I continue to exchange small messages even though I am back in the States. I hope someday to make it back so we can tackle Concepcion. Until then, I suppose I'll have to keep my hiking legs in shape. Thanks for reading! I'll be back again with the some more of my time in Central America. Cheers!

-Dustin

Leon, Nicaragua: A City Among Volcanoes

As he lay in a hospital bed, during which I can only presume he reflected on his decision to ride a bicycle down the side of an active volcano, Eric Barone had just broken the land speed record on a gravel surface. He descended the Cerro Negro volcano in Nicaragua at an astonishing 172 kilometers per her (107 mph), albeit breaking every bone in his body after the bike capsized once it reached the bottom where the slope angle decreases sharply. So, naturally, someone later decided they should charge tourists $30 to slide down the same volcano on a toboggan. I was one of those tourists.

Of the many volcanoes surrounding the small city of Leon on which visitors can explore for a variety of activities (hiking, camping trips, viewing a sunrise), Cerro Negro has a distinct look with it's black ash and gravel slope on what I believe was the eastern side, and a sizable open gap in the mountain on the west that is clearly the result of recent eruptions (the Google satellite map of this area looks amazing!). In fact, if you run your fingers through the gravel at any point while on the rim, you will immediately feel the warmth, nay, heat still emanating from the earth - evidence of the millions of exothermic reactions as a result of the isotopic decay of inner earth elements inside the underlying magma chamber. With this information in mind, I volunteered to be the first person in our group to get down the volcano, and I did so at 55 kilometers per hour. Not record breaking, but fast enough to make you smile the entire time. A big thanks to Big Foot Hostels and Volcano Boarding for a great experience.

As for the city, Leon is filled with many hostels ranging in prices from $6 to $10 per night for a dorm bed, and private rooms anywhere from $15 to $30 depending on your tastes. I stayed at three different spots over the course of my two weeks in the city and I became quite fond of Lazybones for it's laid back vibe, plethora of hammocks, and a swimming pool. Of course there are also hotels, but my three month travel budget would have been drastically cut short if I had stayed at too many of those places.

Most of the lodging spots in Leon also offer opportunities to book most of your other travel needs. Whether it's planning a thee day camping trip or to schedule a shuttle to another city if you're not comfortable maneuvering your way around a Central American bus station (some days I was, others not so much). While relaxing in the city I ate at many small restaurants and discovered a delicious chicken burrito truck near the main square. It's the red truck near the corner. You can also take a walking tour to explore the Museo de Revolucion, cathedrals, and the central square with a small market.

On my first day I visited the ruins of an old church of which the namesake was St. Sebastion. Not only did this present a different type of place to visit in the city, but St. Sebastion was also the name I chose while I was going through the Catholic Confirmation process in high school. Although my current spiritual outlook is not much aligned with the Catholic Church, they still have me registered as Dustin Edward Sebastion Waite (the confirmation name goes after the legal middle name). Sebastion was the patron saint of athletes and once was shot with an arrow and lived. Apparently, at sixteen years old, that was all the reason I needed to choose that name to represent my spiritual well being, and now it was also the reason I explored these church ruins for a few hours in Nicaragua last month. Oh the reasons we do things...

The crown jewel of the city would most definitely be the Cathedral de Leon, a beautiful white building in the heart of the city on which you can walk around the rooftop and get a good view of the surrounding landscape of volcanoes. In order to get up there you need to find the "hobbit" door located on the back side of the building. Not the rear entrance door up the small staircase, but an actual hobbit sized door just a few feet down from that where two tiny Nicaraguan women will sell you a ticket through a locked gate that they refuse to open for some reason. Once you receive your ticket, return to the front side of the building, and along the left side (if facing the front entrance) there will be another small door where a very unofficial security guard will take your ticket, fold it twice, and then clip it with a single hole punch. You will then ascend the small staircase until you reach the bell tower where you will be instructed to remove your shoes and begin your twenty or so minutes atop the cathedral. Although the view from this spot is nice, I was more impressed with my view looking up at the cathedral at dusk time while enjoying a late night cafe at the nearby Restaurante El Sesteo.

With any other time you have I would recommend Buho Books, a small shop owned by a woman from Finland (It may have been Sweden, or the Netherlands, I can't remember), and it is across the street from Glaze, a cupcake shop with air conditioning and free WiFi where you can read your recently purchased book. For me, it was The Polysyllabic Spree, a small collection of book reviews by Nick Hornby. My recap would also be incomplete if I didn't mention salsa dancing on Thursday nights at La Olla Quemada, a small dance bar with a quaint outdoor patio. However, the floor can get filled quick with expert dancers while a plethora of white expat women stare at the floor from all sides refusing to put their dance lessons to use. Seriously, they have all taken and paid for lessons as most will proudly tell you. However, over the course of three Thursday nights I was able to convince only three women to join me on the dance floor for a song. Their loss. I'm a great dancer.

After a few weeks in Leon I decided it was time to move on. I mapped out a route that would take me to the southern part of the country before working my way back north towards Honduras. If you ever make it to Leon, I hope you find the city to be as welcoming as I did. I will return with some details of my time exploring the rest of Nicaragua soon. Thanks for reading!

-Dustin