Nicaragua Part 1: Granada

*Danielle and I attempting to figure out directions outside our hostel*

All the travelers I met in Central America claim that Nicaragua is what Costa Rica used to be, before it was flooded with tourism and climbing prices. After spending three weeks in this beautiful country, I can see the allure. The beaches were less crowded, the locals friendlier, and the best part…half the price!! One city I spent a lot of time in was Granada. It’s located on the northwest shore of Lago Nicaragua, a freshwater lake with diverse ecology including sharks!!

My friends Danielle and Brianna joined me on this part of my central and South American backpacking trip. We crossed the border from Costa Rica on a shanty bus in the middle of the night. Backpacks strapped on, we walked ourselves along the dirt path joining the 2 Spanish speaking countries. We had been told that once we crossed into Nicaragua it would be easy to catch another bus the rest of the way to Granada. Of course, there were no such busses waiting for us….A cab driver offered his services, but we were a little reluctant to get into a shabby Nicaraguan taxi waiting at the border in the middle of the night..with no other options and the okay from a local policeman we took our chances with the driver. Lucky for us, he was super friendly and even stopped at the gas station for us to stock up on road beers and plantain chips to get us through the journey.

*The amazing Hostal Libertad!!*

The cab driver dropped us off at Hostal La Libertad. For $5 a night we each had a bed in a dorm room. We were so excited to finally make it, but little did we know what Granada had in store for us…

*the open air common area at La Libertad*

The first problem we faced was a stomach parasite. Not fun. The only good news was that it wasn’t bothered by alcohol, only food. But after a couple days of drinking with the other travelers at the hostel, this liquid diet needed to end. We met an expat couple running an incredible bakery downtown, who told us which meds to get to knock it out. Five pharmacias and a few rounds of charades later we finally solved the problem.

To celebrate my newfound health we decided to go shopping in the main square, where I picked up some cool hand painted art and we devoured bags of liquid cacao..basically the most decadent chocolate drink I’ve ever tasted.

*Drinking liquid cacao in the main square*

Thinking our bad luck was over, we went on a little adventure to find some indulgences. Our English friends had drawn us a little map and told us to look for an old lady by a river…by the slums. Now I should preface this with the fact that I don’t always think through all my “plans” and “adventures”.

An hour later we hadn’t found the old lady with the goods. Danielle told us she had a bad feeling and that we should go back. Brianna and I told her we would after going down one more street. At this point we were walking around a neighborhood composed of dirt alleyways and shacks made of junkyard materials. It was mid afternoon so we felt safe, thinking nothing would happen in broad daylight. As we are walking a teenager swerves close to us on his bike making us jump, the next second I hear Danielle screaming and running after a local teen!

He had grabbed her wristlet when we jumped and bolted down another alley. Instinctually I started running after Danielle, breaking my crossover purse and throwing it to Brianna, standing shell shocked behind me. She starts screaming in Spanish that we’ve been robbed..”ayudame, ayudame!” Local residents pop out of their shacks to see what’s going on. At this point kids start chasing with Danielle and I, trying to catch the culprit. Eventually at least 25 kids and teens from the slum were helping us. Moms brought us water and helped Brianna to call the police.

We hear the sirens and turn to see a pickup truck with fifteen policemen and two police motorcycles. Shock is an understatement. It was as if a bank had been robbed! The policemen quickly came over to the 3 petrified white girls, standing in a Nicaraguan slum, surrounded by a community of over 50 helpful locals. We explained to them what had happened, leaving out why we were really in the slum, claiming we had gotten “lost”. While this is going on, we see them unloading a wheel barrow from the pickup, taking it into one of the shacks. Other policeman dragged the culprit in as well. We could hear screaming and shouting from inside the shack and were beyond afraid of what was going on, and what was going to happen.

Inside the wristlet,  Danielle had her iPhone, passport, credit cards, and over $250 cash. Losing it would be devastating, especially considering the fact that we had a flight booked to Colombia the next week, where arriving sans passport is not an option. While the policemen were inside, the mother of the culprit came over to us with fifty dollar US bills in her hand, offering us the money to not file a police report. In broken Spanish we explained that we needed the passport and credit cards back, we didn’t care about the money but had to leave the country soon and couldn’t do so without those essentials. She started crying and we felt hopeless.

The policemen eventually come out of the shack with the culprit in the wheel barrow(?!?!) and chuck him into the bed of the pickup. They ask us to get into the front of the truck with them. Sandwiched in the middle of two policemen, we drove to the station. It’s a long and grueling process at the station, where no one spoke a word of English. They brought us into a room for questioning with the culprit sitting on the floor less than three feet away. We were terrified to be in the same room as him. He had a deranged look in his eyes and seemed to be laughing.

Several hours later, with no sign of the wristlet, we were told to come back the next morning to see if they were able to retrieve any of the stolen items. Feeling defeated, we walked out of the station to call a cab. The thought of having to call our parents and explain what had happened, having to change our flight, and trying to get a passport replacement were daunting.

For the second time, we were blessed with another stroke of luck. The cab we waved down pulled over to us. A young girl steps out and in her hand was the stolen wristlet… We ran over and enveloped her in a giant hug of gratitude. The policemen had us come back inside to examine it. Inside, was the passport and all of Danielle’s credit cards. Not inside, was all of the cash, coins, and iPhone. We all breathed a sigh of relief at not having to change our travel plans nor having to admit to our parents that Nicaragua was possibly not as safe as we claimed. We were grateful to the help of the local community and the fact that all of us were left unharmed.

This may not have been the best first impression of Nicaragua, but it left us with some pretty wild stories to tell, and a fair warning to be more cautious for the rest of the journey.

Visiting Pablo Escobar’s House and Exploring Medellin, Colombia

 

When most people think of Colombia, they think of cocaine. And their next thoughts are of Pablo Escobar. Not too long ago, the people of Colombia lived their lives in fear. Gang and criminal violence plagued the city of Medellin from the 1970’s thru the early 90’s in the form of shootings, kidnapping, and bombings. Most of this violence was the result of the battle for power and money between the Medellin and Cali drug cartels, and towards the end, Pablo Escobar’s paranoia about being extradited to the United States. Over 27,000 murders in 1992 put Colombia on the map as the worlds murder capital. In the height of his power, Escobar and his cartel were raking in more than $60 million a day. The cocaine he was exporting accounted for over 80% of the worlds cocaine market. He was the wealthiest criminal in history. How did he do it? During my time in Medellin, I sought out the answers and was shocked to discover that his brother(his “accountant” and confidant throughout his life) was living a quiet life in the house where Pablo was shot and killed.

*Left: photos of Pablo Escobar hanging in his brothers home. Right: A bomb that was hidden by Escobar’s men in this statue killed over 15 people in a public park in Medellin.

I had heard about tourists being able to meet Roberto Escobar, Pablo’s brother, in Medellin and was determined to do so myself. The first thing I asked the hostel I was staying at in El Poblado was “how can I go on the Escobar tour?!?” For $20 I could go the next day. I couldn’t wait. A van picked me up the next morning with about ten other tourists and drove us to Roberto’s home. Our guide explained to us that Pablo first started smuggling coca paste across the border in the trunk of his car. Before long, he was flying planes into Panama and the Bahamas in order to smuggle it into the US. In order to maintain power, he developed a policy of “plato o plomo” translated to silver or lead. Meaning either take a bribe or take a bullet. If you helped him, he helped you. If you betrayed him, he killed you and your family. This policy afforded him immense wealth, to the point where he and his brother were literally burying barrels of cash in the ground. They made the money “clean” by buying real estate. Pablo indulged in collections of cars and exotic animals, which he kept at his infamous Hacienda Napoles(Johnny Depp make a visit here in the movie Blow).

*Left: A desk and hidden closet where cash was hidden in the house. Right: Pablo and his son in Washington DC on vacation and a photo of Hacienda Napoles hanging on his brothers wall.

As he gained all of this wealth and power, he caught the attention of the Colombian government and police. He used bribes and violence to remain safe, but decided that he would take matters into his own hands. In 1982 he was elected into the chamber of representatives of Colombia. How was a drug lord elected into a government position? Simple, Colombia suffered from extreme poverty, so Pablo donated millions to the poor. He built hospitals, schools, sports fields and homes for the poor. Many people adored him for his Robin Hood behavior, and in return the people he helped did their best to protect him. His main goal in entering public office was to protect himself from being extradited to the United States. One of his biggest fears was being sent to a prison in America.
Escobar used violence to prevent presidential candidates he was opposed to from entering into office. He bombed an Avianca flight, backed the storming of the Colombian Supreme Court and was allegedly responsible for the assassination of Luis Carlos Galen(a presidential candidate). After the assassination, the Colombian and US governments wanted him behind bars. Eventually, in 1991, he made an agreement with the Colombian government, and entered his own prison, La Catedral. It was a mansion in the hills of Medellin, where he was confined but was allowed to have guests come and go, and remain living a life of luxury, albeit on house arrest. Pablo couldn’t resist continuing his business and before being taken from his prison home, he escaped. For a year and a half the Colombian and US governments searched for him. He spent months in the jungle running and hiding from authorities. In December 1993, they finally found him in his mothers home in Medellin, now Roberto Escobar’s home. He was shot and killed on the roof trying to escape. His family insists that he fired the shot himself, committing suicide rather than succumbing to a police bullet, but police insist it was their gun that made the fatal shot. Regardless, a criminal, a hero to the poor, and a worldwide legend was gone.

*Left: Bullet holes in Roberto’s house. Right: Pablo’s grave in Medellin.

After touring the house and hearing all about Pablo’s life, we were able to meet his brother Roberto. Our tour guide explained that he was blind in his right eye as a result of a letter he received in prison that blew up upon opening. As he approached our group I was standing on his right. He introduced himself to each person and when he got to the person next to me he stopped. I waved hello and he started laughing, he hadn’t been able to see me because of his blind eye. He apologized and told me he was looking for a new wife…we all laughed and sat down in the living room together to ask questions.

*Roberto and I in front of a Wanted sign for him and his brother.

If you’re interested in learning more about Roberto, I picked up his book The Accountants Story and it’s filled with more stories of his and Pablo’s life.

You may be wondering how safe Colombia is now? I spent a month there, traveling from the Amazon to Cartagena, Santa Marta, Taganga, Parque Tyrona, and Medellin. I never felt unsafe and the people were wonderful. So full of life and eager to help. Although the police will try and stop you at night, attempting to catch a tourist with a bag of coke for a small bribe. However, there is less violent crime in Colombia now than in Mexico, and Peru now produces more cocaine. You can still party your nights away in the cities and see girls with butt implants walking along the streets, BUT you don’t have to be worried about getting kidnapped by a drug cartel..There is so much beauty in Colombia, from the people and culture to stunning mountains, jungles, and beaches. It’s not a very expensive country and flights on Spirit Air can fly you there in less than 7 hours for $130. Seriously, just go, explore, learn, and brush up on that high school espanol.