A trip to Nicaragua to study Spanish isn't a traveler's real motivation.
By TAMARA LUSH
Published September 7, 2003
[Times photo: Tamara Lush]
Monkeys are everywhere in Nicaragua, but you have to know where to look. These monkeys live on an island in Lago de Nicaragua. Go to photo gallery
MANAGUA, Nicaragua - I told my friends and co-workers that my husband and I were traveling to Nicaragua to study Spanish.
But really, I was on a quest to see a monkey.
I had been a little obsessed with the idea of spotting a primate in the wild after I started reading about Nicaragua for the trip. My experience with animals had been limited to zoos and covering the occasional alligator story for the newspaper, so seeing a monkey swinging from a tree seemed so . . . exotic. Tropical. Jane Goodall-like.
During the two-hour flight from Miami, I breathlessly read to my husband from the Lonely Planet'sCentral America on a Shoestring:
"Mantled howler monkeys are easy to see and hear, but Nicaragua also hosts Geoffrey's spider monkeys and white-faced capuchin monkeys."
Three kinds of monkeys. In one country.
Between Spanish lessons, we planned on hiking in the rain forest, swimming in deep-blue lakes and exploring volcanoes. The monkey-spotting possibilities were endless, I told my husband.
He didn't care.
* * *
As the airplane descended, I could see the deep blue of Lago de Managua and the perfect cone of Volcan Momotombo.
Managua, a city known for its chaos, violence and poverty, was hidden, at least from my vantage point. Nearly everything on land looked covered in a thick carpet of green foliage.
I knew we would not encounter any monkeys in Managua. The city is dirty, sprawling and lacks street signs. The city's 1-million residents employ a confusing mix of directions (toward the lake, away from the lake, three blocks past the old, demolished hotel) to get around.
Our first evening was spent in Managua, at a $4-a-night youth hostel in a residential area. It was safe and kind of clean, although the moldy-looking fixtures and severely peeling paint in the bathroom were unsettling.
We ate fish stew and fried cheese at a pleasant cafe across the street, where we met a South African who was in Managua on business. He said he was living in a camper on the remote Pacific coast. We told him that we were headed to San Juan del Sur, a beach town, for two nights, then to our language school in Granada.
I asked if there were any opportunities to see monkeys along the way.
"Oh, sure," the man said. He explained that a small troop of howler monkeys surprises him when he bicycles down a dirt road near his camper. "They sound like barking dogs."
* * *
Our transportation out of Managua south to San Juan del Sur was an old school bus. Although it was November, the weather made the bus hot. The passengers made it chaotic.
People were packed three and four to a seat. I sat next to an old woman and someone else squeezed beside me.
Nick was stuck in the last row, and someone standing next to Nick used his shoulder to rest a large plastic garbage bag of what smelled like fried chicken. A young woman nearby held a pillowcase filled with peeping chicks.
The bus passed mountains, greenery, shacks that seemed to lack electricity - not surprising in a country that is one of the poorest in the Western Hemisphere.
Every few miles, people on the side of the road would flag down the bus, climb aboard and sell snacks or sodas. A few miles later, the snack vendors would disembark.
The old woman next to me ordered a baggie filled with food. I had taken a little Spanish instruction before and knew how to conduct simple conversations. I looked at my Spanish-English dictionary, then looked at my seatmate, who was was eating from the plastic bag what looked like cabbage and fried pork rinds. (I would later discover that it was a typical dish called vigaron - loosely translated to mean "big and vigorous").
With a smile, I told her I was from the United States. She nodded and returned my smile.
I gestured to the hillside. "Donde esta el mono?" I asked. Where are the monkeys?
"Todos partes," she said, sweeping her hand toward the window.
Everywhere.
* * *
San Juan del Sur was gorgeous, a horseshoe-shaped beach on the Pacific. We drank 60-cent beers and ate cheap seviche. We walked along the golden sand at sunset, dodging boys who were playing soccer barefoot.
There were no monkeys on the beach.
But everyone we talked to, from the German girls on holiday to the expatriate Vietnam veterans who lived in beachfront houses, said they had seen the monkeys and had heard them.
Monkeys were passe, almost nuisances, like deer in New Jersey or alligators in Florida. As far as most people were concerned, monkeys were just loud, smelly animals.
The locals told us to visit the northern part of the country, where sloths sleep among the coffee plantations. Better than monkeys, the residents said.
But we didn't have time to crisscross the country. Nicaragua, we were learning, is a lot bigger than it looks on a map; it's actually the largest country in Central America.
We had to be at school in Granada, so we boarded another bus.
In Granada we were dropped off near the main square, a stunning plaza marked with a cathedral and impressive, Spanish colonial architecture. The city was founded in 1524, making it one of the earliest European settlements in the Americas.
We checked in at our school, which was housed in the Palacio de Cultura, a massive stucco building with grand Moorish arcs and a lush courtyard.
School workers gave us a map and directions to the home where we would be staying. The residents, three sisters, owned a well-kept colonial building about a 15-minute walk from the school. Nick and I had a room and bathroom. The language schools pay the host families about $20 a month, a significant amount in a country where the average monthly wage is less than $100.
The hosts were told to speak only Spanish with their student visitors, which meant that Nick and I had some frustration at first, especially because we wanted to talk about the political situation in Nicaragua: How is the country faring after decades of civil war?
Eventually, one sister who was fluent in English broke down and spoke with us in our language.
Thania was a 24-year-old economics student at the University in Managua. Her parents were in the United States and would send money to the sisters, which allowed the family to keep the home in Granada. Most Nicaraguans want to go to the United States, Thania said, but she hoped to get an education and stay in her country.
We had never traveled to such a friendly and open country; it felt safer to walk around Granada than downtown Tampa.
The sisters' warmth and hospitality was unmatched, especially with their home-cooked rice, beans and tortillas, garnished with a salty local cheese.
Thania explained the monkey situation: There are two kinds in southern Nicaragua, white-faced capuchin monkeys, which are somewhat friendly toward humans, and the larger howler monkeys, which generally are meaner. The howlers lived 30 or 40 to a troop, high in the branches of the rain forest.
None lived in Granada, Thania said.
* * *
We found our tour guide, Christian, by walking out the front door of our school.
He was in a Palacio souvenir shop, selling handmade pottery and coffee. Christian showed us brochures for hiking around volcanoes, boating excursions and rain-forest tours.
"I want to see monkeys," I told him.
He gave me a look. Monkeys were everywhere, he said.
We chose three tours, one per day: a hike around Volcan Masaya, a tree-canopy tour and a boat ride on Lago de Nicaragua.
Christian, who spoke English, explained the significance of the volcano during the ride there: It is one of the most active volcanoes in the world, spewing lava as recently as 1972.
We drove nearly up to the crater itself. It was steaming so much that we couldn't spot any lava, so we walked around the rim of a nearby dormant volcano. The path was black dirt, probably old lava.
The vista was incredible: We could see for miles both north and south, and nearly to Managua, about 30 miles away. A chain of volcanoes rippled across the horizon in shades of green and black.
There is little animal life near the active crater except for green parakeets that nest in the crater's walls. Somehow, Christian said, they have learned to adapt to the toxic fumes.
But there were no signs of molten lava on our visit, or of monkeys.
We had been in Nicaragua six days and I hadn't seen a monkey. Surely, I thought, we would see one on the tree-canopy tour.
Such tours are popular in Costa Rica, where throngs of tourists pay hundreds of dollars to whiz through the treetops with the help of cables, platforms and harnesses. There are only a few of these tours in Nicaragua, where ecotourism is still in its infancy.
The tour cost $60 for each of us, including snacks and the transportation from Granada, about 10 miles away. We went to a nature reserve on the side of Volcan Mombacho, another of the inactive volcanoes that crisscross the country.
Christian and three helpers strapped us into chest harnesses. We climbed a ladder and stood atop a platform fixed to a large tree.
The ground looked like it was 100 feet below. Or maybe 200. A cable was strung between "our" tree and another, and Christian explained that the pulley on our harness would be hooked to the cable. We would then jump off the platform and glide through the air.
My hands started to sweat. My feet, too.
Christian demonstrated, whooping as he sailed from one platform to the next. Then Nick zoomed across as I watched. It was my turn.
I jumped.
When I opened my eyes, I was halfway across the cable. I could see the layers of trees and shrubs, and on the rain forest floor, bushy coffee plants.
I have never smiled so wide.
We zoomed across several cables, each ride more exhilarating than the last. On one platform, Christian made a loud, weird noise.
"WRoo! WRoo! WRoo!" He paused.
From the jungle, something answered back.
WROOOOO. WROOOOO. WROOOOO.
It sounded menacing.
"Hear those?" Christian said. "Those are the howler monkeys."
We never saw those monkeys, but we still had one tour to go.
After class the next day, Christian took us to ride across Lago de Nicaragua. It was cloudy and drizzling. But we would not be in the country much longer.
Still, when we got to the dock and saw our 15-foot boat, I had my doubts on whether we should have spent the $20 for the tour.
Christian climbed aboard, pocketing a couple of vending-machine packages of Ritz crackers. That's probably our snack, I thought.
I knew the volcanoes of Ometepe were too far to reach during the few hours we had left of this day, but I figured the lake was so massive that puttering around on it could be a vacation in itself.
The plan was to cruise around a dozen or so of the 354 big and little islands. Lavish homes perch on some.
I sat placidly as Christian pointed out the vacation homes of the country's politicians, and then we stopped to explore a 17th-century Spanish fort.
Christian said something to the boat's captain in Spanish and pointed to a spit of an island, covered in dense shrubs and mango trees.
We slowed nearly to a stop at the little island's edge.
One tree shook violently. The branches parted, and two small, pink faces poked through the leaves. White fur stood out among all the green.
Monkeys. So close I could look into their round, brown eyes. I squealed.
Despite my noise, the monkeys scampered down the branches and flung themselves toward the boat.
One landed squarely on the deck. Another hooked its arms around the side of the boat and easily hoisted itself aboard.
The monkeys stood about 2 feet from me. I felt like I was going to burst.
Christian took out the crackers. The monkeys waited patiently. They seemed so gentle, so expressive, so . . . human.
With tiny black hands, they reached up and took the crackers.
Their fur was matted, and one looked as though it had mange.
"He must have been in a scuffle," said Nick, pointing to one monkey. It didn't have a hand, only a little furry stump.
That didn't stop the monkey from shoving a cracker in its mouth and grabbing a few more from Christian, tucking them under its armpit before scampering off the boat.
The other monkey hung around for a while, walking around the boat on its hind legs.
Against my better judgment, I reached out to pet this monkey.
It let me stroke its back.
The monkey looked at us, then hopped off the boat and slipped back into the trees.
Christian instructed the captain to cruise by more of the tiny islands and proceeded to give us another lesson on the history of the lake.
I wasn't listening. I was grinning because I had seen my monkey.
On the way back to shore, I made Christian and the captain stop at the monkey's island, so I could see them one more time.
- Tamara Lush can be reached at 813 226-3373 or at lush@sptimes.com
If you go:
GETTING THERE: Several U.S. airlines fly directly from Miami to Managua. Grupo Taca, a consortium of Central American airlines, also offers competitive fares from Miami. Car rentals are available at the international airport there; it takes about two hours by car or bus from Managua to Granada.
WHEN TO GO: Nicaragua is hot and tropical all year long. Much like Florida, December and January are the cooler months and are the start of the dry season. The rainy season begins in June.
ECOTOURISM: In Granada, you can contact English-speaking guide Christian Quintanilla at JB Fun Tours. He can be reached by e-mail at jbfuntoursni@yahoo.com or at 505 863 4690. Depending on the excursion, tours cost from $20 to $60 per person, with transportation included.
WHAT TO SEE: Granada probably has the country's best tourism infrastructure, with a wide range of hotels and restaurants. It also makes a great base for day trips to nearby lakes, volcanoes, canopy tours and craft markets.
PAYING THERE: Nicaragua is inexpensive. Entire meals for two can be had for $10 to $15, and rooms in top hotels for $80 to $100.
The currency is the gold cordoba. One U.S. dollar is equivalent to about 14 cordobas.
FOR MORE INFORMATION: The official tourism Web site is www.intur.gob.ni/ This page can be viewed in English and includes information on the various regions of Nicaragua, on hotels and tour operators.
