Laguna de Apoyo & Granada
It was unusual to wake up to the sound of horse carriages going down the street versus the sounds of motorbikes or car engines. My new plan is to stay another night in Granada and take a day trip to Laguna de Apoyo. Prior to heading out to catch the shuttle, the ladies handed me a fabulous parcel: clean laundry.
The shuttle was filled with Americans as a majority rather than minority: a married couple from Tampa, FL; a young couple from Santa Rosa, CA; 2 guys from Knoxville, TN; then a couple from Mancester UK; 2 Australians & 2 italians.
Our hotel has a partnership with Paradiso Hotel on Laguna de Apoyo. We paid $8 for a round trip shuttle in order to have the privilege to hang out on the lake and use their kayaks. Of course, I am sure the $8 only goes to a small part of transportation. The food and drinks available at Paradiso was expensive. Since I had the el typico breakfast and plenty of water. I was good for the day. I mainly went to the laguna to read on the shore, swim in the water and paddle in the kayaks.
The wind creating large ripples on the lake make it more fun and intense to kayak. The fresh air and endorphins helped me to come up with brilliant schemes & business ideas of how to avoid going back to Corporate America an hone in on my entrepreneurial aspirations. I tried to paddle to the other side of the lake but only made it 2/3 of the way since the other shore seemed to keep getting further and further away. Also, I wanted to make sure I had enough energy to paddle back. Then I rested up on the shore with my book. One of the guys from Tennessee sat next to me and interrupted my reading. A rather pleasant interruption once he took his shirt off. Nice pecks and six pack. YUM! It surprised me since at first I had no interest due to his Southern accent.
Soon the shuttle arrived to take us back to Granada. I showered and wandered the streets in search for food. Despite it being late in the afternoon, the market was still in full swing. Walking past a few clothing stores I saw the mannequins with large breasts. I overheard a mother tell her son, “No tocas!” In the stores, stalls and on the street, Hollister is the big brand. Everyone is wearing it. I assumed some of the fabricas were producing some goods after hours. Someone suggested I give one of the local dishes a try vigoron: a horrid combination of steamed yucca topped off with cabbage salad and pork rinds. Some things, I concluded don’t need to be tried.
Back at my Oasis, I was feeling kinda sick from eating a few of the pork rinds. I was also feeling tired and grumpy paired with a scratchy throat, an indication I might be getting sick. Matt invited me to go out with him to check out some spots and two other guys mentioned reggae. My irrational inner teenager was ready to party but my annoying practical side told me I needed rest. Damn survival instincts! Instead of hanging out with good-looking men my age, I sat in the lounge of the Oasis getting chatted up by 2 old dudes from Louisville, Kentucky the same place from where my Belize boyfriend Bart was from. Before meeting Bart, I never met any other Americans from the flyover states. Here, I am meeting Americans from all over. Is Central America the safe yet “hard core” place to go?