In which Roz and Layla meet the cheeriest man in Nicaragua, ride horses along a volcano and make glorious art

by Roz


We left you about to have dinner (and indeed I have this blog to type before dinner tonight!). We’d decided to head to a Mexican restaurant that gets very good reviews: Tequila Vallarta. The food was nice – particularly our starters (nachos, guacamole, beans, cheese and so forth), as were the mohitos. We ate outside and had a very jolly evening, watching passers-by, street theatre and so forth (pleasing to see a little play of one of the myths we read about in the Leon myth museum). We headed back to our room, having skipped dessert and contemplated bed (nervously anticipating an early start the next day) but instead opted to listen to a podcast or two from the Moth, which were very enjoyable.

The next day we were up early and all set for a trip up Volcano Mombacho. Our guide and driver picked us up at our hotel and there began an exceptionally fun day. Our guide was the happiest man I can ever remember coming across, and exceptionally keen to inform us about everything he could think of relating to Nicaragua, our tour, and anything else that came up, bursting with enthusiasm on every subject. On the short drive to our first stopping point, we received a potted history of Nicaragua (and, having read something of it myself before, it was fascinating to get his slant / perspective), and a brief description of culture now. And he was so jolly about everything: Granada invaded by an over-ambitious American – “ha ha, weren’t we crazy to let him”. He was very pleased to hear that we preferred Granada to Leon (the rivalry between the two cities is legendary) and looked as if he was personally responsible!

Our first stop, a third of the way up the volcano, (and greeted with much enthusiasm by our happy guide) was a coffee farm, Café Flores. It had been founded at the end of the 19th century by the family who still own it now, but developments have continued apace, most recently certification by the Rainforest Alliance. We learnt more than we had ever dreamt of learning about how coffee is made, the developments in the coffee trade over the years, requirements to be certified by said Rainforest Alliance, and then sampled some (even Layla, who is averse to the stuff).

Our next stop was at the top of the volcano (much to Layla’s glee, since she’s started to dread my great enthusiasm for hiking uphill). As we drove, it was amazing to see how the climate changed (indeed there were five different micro-climates on the volcano in total, apparently). We stepped out of the car into a cloud forest, and went for a hike, following trails which took us round some of the volcano’s craters. Our guide, in his keenness, ensured we got the full benefit of the hike: Layla told him that she had never seen a sloth and thus it was that a little later, and with great joy, he announced: “My lady, it’s a great day for you – look, there’s a sloth”. I mentioned that I’d never seen a puma, also reputed to be on the volcano. He showed less enthusiasm for finding one of those. I therefore looked wistful and said I’d like to see a white-faced monkey (also apparently on the volcano) and this became his mission – at various points he emitted monkey calls, to encourage them to show themselves. Alas, our luck had run out. Despite the fact that the morning had been grey when we set off, it had cleared beautifully by the time we were hiking, which made it all very pleasant – and the views spectacular. At one point we could see all of Granada, the islands (that we’d kaykaked around) and surrounding volcanos, including a volcanic crater with a lake in it. Absolutely fab.

On our drive back, our guide’s enthusiasm for our education was unabated: we listened to CDs of some of his favourite music (mainly revolutionary music) and discussed the current Government. All in all, it was an exceptionally good trip. Even if the music did nonplus us somewhat (we struggle with Western music, let alone anything more complicated).

Having been dropped back in Granada, we booked a further trip for Thursday (with the same guide, hurrah), had a late and delicious lunch at Euro Café, then bought some postcards and then went (via Granada’s Chocolate Museum) to sit in another café and write cards. From there, we went back to the hotel and had a swim. And then to the hotel bar to sip drinks, and contemplate our dinner options.

We finally opted to go to Hotel San Francisco, which gets very good reviews. We turned up and were disappointed to find ourselves alone (again). However, the reviews had been sufficient to ensure we stayed, and we were glad we did. The mohitos were excellent (in my view some of the best of the holiday) and the Mexcian food really good (superior to that of the night before). We were even joined by a couple of other people during the course of the evening, which was pleasing. A game of the giant chess that lurks in the garden courtyard of our hotel (which I won) and we were ready for bed. An excellent day!

I woke early this morning, somewhat dreading the day’s activities. I’d humoured Layla when she said she wanted to bid in the silent auction for a horse-riding tour along the crater of a few volcanos – assuming we wouldn’t win, or that it would be too difficult to organise. To be clear, the only time I have been on a horse was when I was five and it was at a village fete. I cried when the horse moved and was swiftly rescued by my mother. To my horror, we’d won the horse-riding tour and it wasn’t a drama to book. Thus it was that we were picked up bright and early by an exceptionally enthusiastic American ex-pat (who has lived here for 7 years, and before that lived in Costa Rica). She laughed gaily when Layla told her that I was terrified. I did not. We picked up someone else, who seemed to be someone who the ex-pat vaguely knew, and we drove out to her farm. Pleasingly, it turned out to be in one of the famous white villages (pueblas blancas) near Granada (so called because they used to be whitewashed, to be easily spotted by traders) – and this village is particularly famous (we’d learned the day before from our enthusiastic guide) because witchcraft (both white and black) is still practised there.

We arrived at the farmhouse, which turned out to be envy-inducing in its niceness. Huge ceilings, large rooms, fantastic art and nice gardens. Layla and I looked at each other and contemplated what it must be like to be truly rich. We were told that our tour would involve a ride through the village and along the side of a volcanic crater lake, to a stopping place an hour or so away. We would then ride back. We were assured that the horses were exceptionally well-behaved and we had nothing to worry about.

And so it turned out to be. We had a really lovely ride on two very nice horses. I was particularly amused that Layla’s horse had a penchant for stopping off to nibble tasty looking grass – clearly a horse matching its rider. The views were fab, and I became thoroughly persuaded that I’d like to learn to ride properly, when we return to London. It’s such an interesting way and pace to see the world. That said, by the time we got to the stopping place, I felt crippled: as though someone had half broken my shins, and my bottom and thighs exceptionally sore. I was therefore very pleased to stagger off to drink water, stretch my muscles, and eat some plantain and similar items, while looking over Lake Apoyo, a bright blue crater lake, with yesterday’s volcano in the background.

The way back was also lovely, and, feeling braver, it was interesting to try out different paces. I particularly enjoyed the moment when Layla (accidentally) tried out cantering: she screamed “Roz, heeeeeelp”. Which is sweet, but did fail to recognise that I was quite the worst person to ask for assistance. Luckily, like Layla, the horse soon wanted a break and slowed to a sloth-like pace. Back at the farmhouse, we had a brief stop before returning to Granada. Layla and I took the opportunity to ogle the art (and decide which of the many number of lovely pieces we’d most like) and to daydream about not living in a one-bedroom flat in London.

Back in Granada, we stopped off at the local art shop that we’d identified a few days before and which runs art classes. We had a fancy to take a mosaic class and, having persuaded the person running it to delay the start for half an hour so we could have some lunch, signed ourselves up. Our speedy lunch in an open-air café was delicious and we had a beer to celebrate having survived the horse-riding.

Returning to the art shop, we looked expectant. The non-English speaking teacher gave us a couple of books for inspiration and indicated we should draw on a tile, the first step in creating a mosaic. At this moment, I made the wise decision that, talentless as I am in the art field, I would be best off seeking to be Layla’s glamorous assistant and therefore indicated to the teacher that one board would be sufficient. Layla drew a picture of us hiking up a volcano. The teacher looked slightly sceptical. She then showed us how to cut mosaic tiles. And then, dear reader, the miraculous happened: I found my calling in the art world. It turns out that I have an aptitude for cutting tiles – the first time I have ever shown an aptitude for anything related to art. And thus passed a very pleasant afternoon. Admittedly, the product of our labours was shockingly bad. But that wasn’t due to the quality of the cutting out of the tiles (phew) and we did enjoy ourselves. And the teacher made very approving noises (I’m sure mainly in relation to my tile cutting…).

After which, I went off for a massage (another thing we had won in the silent auction) and Layla to do some chores (well planned by me, don’t you think?). We rendezvoused back at the hotel, where I had a quick swim before beers and blogging.