Granada, Nicaragua is a sleepy town. It is midday Sunday and the central plaza is nearly empty, save for a handful of people finding shade in some of the park benches scattered under the trees. Located on the shores of Lago de Nicaragua, and an hour north of the border of Costa Rica, Granada is the oldest colonial-style city in Central America. Large colorful buildings line the streets. Peaches on Cremes on Oranges on Blues on Greens. Every few blocks someone is sitting in the street outside their home in a rocking chair, listening to the radio or catching a nap. There are no porches and it is a hot town.
The rocking chair just might be the most popular item in town. The only thing that could rival it in popularity is beisbol. In any other town in any other country in Central America you will find find kids kicking a ball towards goalposts made of rocks or tree trunks. In Nicaragua, baseball is king. On our first walk around town, we stumbled across an afternoon adult league game. Those not playing lined the outfield fence. Two consecutive batters lofted balls over the rather short porch in left field. Both times they stopped at second, victims of the local parks ground rule double restriction.
We didn’t come to Granada for the baseball though, we came to see the lake. Lago de Nicaragua is the 10th largest lake in the world and it is the largest lake in Central America. It rests just north of Costa Rica and stretches nearly the entire width of the souther pit of Nicaragua. It is home to several islands, the biggest of which has about a dozen towns on it and two volcanoes, the larger one dormant and the smaller active. On our second day in town we visited Las Isolitas, a series of small islands just south of Granada.
We followed a series of dirt roads that led us past beaches, several homes, some restaurants, and boats for rent before ending at the home and restaurant of a rather large family. We were looking for a place to read or write. After buying some beverages, we sat down at a table on a small point looking out into a protected bay surrounded by several islands. After about 30 minutes we were approached by a man European man wondering if we were interested in going for a ride in his sailboat. His name was Tomas and he moved to Nicaragua about two months ago. About two months before that he had bought four boats from a friend of his in his home land of Austria. And about one month before that he had learned how to sail. Actually, that last sentence is not true, but I would have bought if he would have told us so. In reality, he had been a sailing instructor in Austria for the last fifteen years and he and his friend Wolfgang had decided to move to Nicaragua to start a sailing school. They are hoping to get on the ground floor before the country is too developed.
A fter a few minutes of deliberation, we were in his boat sailing. There were a toal of five of us and the boat was a bit crowded. The water was a little choppy, but we had life vests on and we were told the water was not too deep. Tomas warned us of the risk of sailing and the possibility that we could always tip, but seemed assured this would not happened. Apparently, Lake Nicaragua is the only lake in the world with freshwater sharks – Tiburones Nicaraguas. It is believed they migrated up one of the rivers that connects it to the Pacific Ocean. We were determined not to see them up close. Tomas told us the only thing we had to worry about was the water depth and rocks that might scratch the base of the boat. Once we got away from the shore we were able to turn and see the lakeside. On land, Nicaragua seemed very dry and dusty, but from the boat you could see just how green the trees truly were where the hillside jutted up above the shore. Our trip went smoothly and we made it onto shore without incident.
When we docked our boat the family was in the middle of a baseball game in their yard with a makeshift bat and leather mitts. Home plate stood along side their restaurant and the branches of some tall trees hung down over second and short. If I had had a little more courage (or if I were Dane Steinlicht) I might have tried to join in on the game. Instead, we said our goodbyes and headed back into town.
Back in Granada the central square was filled with action. Old men were sitting on park benches, birds were singing in the trees, and a soccer games was taking place in the area outside of the Catedral. Teenagers lined the edges of the imaginary touchlines. It appeared completely impromptu, save for the guy with the whistle signaling the occasional foul or hand ball. I briefly changing into some sneakers and trying to get into the game. Tomorrow we’ll head to the border, back to Costa Rica. I decide to leave my sneakers at home and join the sideline and this scene.
- Josh, March 19-20 or so, 2007
