Ladies Day at the Lake and Isla de Ometepe

The Oasis Hostel where I was staying offered a day trip to their sister hostel on the lake for just $5. Four lovely ladies - all solo travelers, as well - joined me on the shuttle and we decided it would be Ladies Day at the Lake. About 35 minutes later, we arrived at a secluded hostel in the rainforest where a steep path led down to a lake-front bathing area and snack bar. Kayaks were free to take out and all the hostel amenities were free of charge. We were the only ones there and had the entire place and staff to ourselves. What a delightfully relaxing day. I read, listened to music, sunbathed, kayaked, swam, and snacked. What a way to spend a day. I headed back to Granada feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. Later that evening, I moved to my next hostel where I enjoyed a private single room, my own bathroom, and hot water for the first time during the trip. Rapture!

When you backpack, the world is very small. Somehow, you always seem to run into people with identical itineraries and you run into them city after city, country after country. When I was in Mozambique, I ran into three people at my first hostel who were not only moving on to the same city 7 hours away, but were also scheduled for the same bus and same hostel there.

After dinner and a round of trivia at an Irish bar on the strip in Granada, I ran into my friends Joe, Alex, Emilie and Monika from Leon. They had not only ended up in Granada with me, but were also taking the same ferry to Isla de Ometepe the next morning. It's a strange and lovely travel phenomenon. Happenstance just granted me another week with my new buddies. We all congregated at the ferry station in the morning and hunkered down with some snacks for the 4 hour ferry ride to Isla de Ometepe. By this point in the trip, I had completely abandoned my itinerary. I had no idea where I was staying on Isla de Ometepe, and frankly, I didn't care, because I now had the company of three men and a lovely Spanish woman. Joe consulted his travel bible on the ferry in search of a place to stay. I decided I would let somebody else make the plans for me for once. I read a book and took a nap.

When we arrived, it was just about dark, and I was glad I wasn't alone as we were yet again barraged by taxi drivers. We finally settled on a fare and made our way through the rough, dark, jungle roads to our hostel. If ever there was a hippie habitat, this was it. The entire staff sported waist-length dread-locks. We were famished, and thankful for the in-house dining service. We were able to share our own little room and bath in the attic. For not the first time, I shared a bed with someone I had just met that day. There's that backpacker intimacy, again.

The next day, Joe suggested we rent motorbikes and tour the island. I thought this sounded fantastic. We met up with Torey, the female half of a Californian couple we met at the bar the night before, and headed to the bike shop. We could rent a bike for $30 for the day. Joe and I took one bike and the girls took the other one. It took me about 2.5 minutes to decide that I need a motorcycle license. After a few practice rounds around the block, we met the girls back at the shop to regroup. While we were sitting in front of the shop, I shifted my weight on the bike, and the mudguard swung off to the ground. The father of the owner unscrewed the other side and we were on our way. Little did we know, this would come back to haunt us later...

Our first stop was a secluded little beach spot where the four of us splashed around in the lake for awhile to cool off. After a while, we made plans for our next stop and were on our way. Next, we discovered a natural spring, Ojo de Agua. I'm pretty sure it has magical healing/restoring/anti-aging properties. I mean, that's what we were told. Who am I to argue? It was a lovely swim. Then we enjoyed some delicious cocktails and snacks, but the girls never showed up. We figured they found their own secret spot and would run into them sooner or later.

After a few more hours of cruising around the island, we refilled the tank and headed back to the shop where we were saddened to discover that our friends had a little accident due to a problem with the brakes and their day of motor-cruising was cut short. In addition, the shop wanted to charge them an extra fee because of a scratch on the bike. The police officer who had helped them back had instructed them not to pay any reparation fees since he noticed a problem with the brakes, but he was nowhere to be found, now. But that's not all. They also wanted to charge us an additional $30 for the mudguard that had broken earlier. Joe and I argued that that was absurd, since it broke while we were stationary and had followed their instructions exactly about getting on and off the bike. They argued that the foot guard was not designed to have any weight on it, which is just ludicrous. Then we looked more closely and realized the problem: they had intentionally left off the metal screw on the back side of the guard, leaving only an inch-long piece of thin plastic to bear the weight. We called negligence on their part and Torey, who is a mechanical engineer for NASA, said something about load-bearing weights, which sounded like a good point. After an hour of arguing, we settled on a fee and hauled out. It was a corrupt and bitterly unpleasant end to a refreshing day.

The next day, Joe and I were moving on to San Juan del Sur, a surfer/beach town about which we had heard rave reviews. After the incident with the motorbike, I was ready to move on, and I was happy to retain my travel buddy.