Nicaragua, Nicaraguita - Part 2: A Tale of Two Islands

Apologies for the delays in posting everyone! I had to return home for a brief visit to complete some work for an upcoming CBC podcast (more on that in a later post). But now I am back in Costa Rica. Onwards and southwards, my friends!

But before we get to Costa, a few quick recaps are in order, with the first being about two incredible islands we visited in Nicaragua.

1. A Tale of Two Islands

Even if you don't click on my previous music suggestions, I really really suggest you give this Corn Island's Song a go. It was put out by the Nicaraguan tourism board, whose slogan translates to "unique, original". Give it a listen. You'll see why.

The Corn Islands are two Caribbean Islands (Big Corn and Little Corn) that were once key to the English slave trade. The politics get tricky, but essentially Nicaragua occupied the islands beginning in1896, then there was some complicated 99-year lease to the US that has since expired. So now the islands operate as part of Nicaragua, and although Spanish is the official language, there's a lot of creole still spoken here, a strong afro-descendent vibe, and muchos gringos.

Ivan on Big Corn

2. Crossing Nicaragua. A lovely chance to meet Local Law Enforcement.

Getting to the islands is the tricky part. Most people fly direct from Managua, Nicaragua's capital, to Big Corn. Unfortunately, we refused to be normal and decided to brave the newly-paved highway to the town of Bluefields where we could catch a ferry to take us to Big Corn. 

Our destination - Bluefields

Being new, the road was pretty good. But we weren't prepared for the number of "police" (aka transit authorities, military recruits) who would be checking for infractions during the long holiday weekend. 

Our first pullover was by a woman cop (or at least a woman dressed like a cop).  She couldn't give us back our license until we paid our fine for crossing a solid line. But there was a problem: it was the holiday weekend and the banks were closed. No, we couldn't pay her directly because that might be considered a bribe, and that would be wrong. So what to do? She suggested that maybe, since it was so hot, we could buy her and her overworked colleagues a "refresco". Ivan offered her a selection of sodas from the back seat. None were exactly what she was looking for, though. In the end, we only got Ivan's driving license back after we provided her a few córdoba (to choose her own preferred beverage of choice.

I'd like to say this was the only time we had to buy a cop a refresco, but it wasn't. We would be pulled over again twice. Only on our third pullover (by a gun-toting military officer) did we learn the trick: under no circumstances pass over your passport or license and keep faking that you don't speak a word of Spanish. Eventually, a Coca-Cola just becomes not worth anyone's effort anymore.

3. Bluefields. Capital of the South Caribbean Coast Autonomous Region. Not as grand as it sounds.

We did eventually make it to the town of Bluefields, which is not Nicaragua's prettiest town - especially given its history as a capital. I'll just let the pictures do the talking.

View from Bluefield's Market

Yes, this building is still standing, though we don't know for how long.

View outside from Bluefield bar

View inside the same Bluefield Bar. Yes, those are Christmas decorations still up in April.

Typical street in town

View of the market

Bluefield is not a town most tourists visit. It's certainly not a town anyone wants to get stuck in. 

But get stuck we did.

Turns out the ferry was sold out for the Easter long weekend, as were the flights, so we had at least three nights at "the best hotel in town", Hotel Casa Royal, to really get to know Bluefields while we waited for the next plane out to the Island. 

So we hunkered down in our hotel, relishing the air conditioning and listening to the thump-thump of dirty Latin pop played at a disturbingly loud volume by the pool as the local parrot bobbed its head in tune, all while watching the sun set over the ocean. 

Could have been worse.

Cool Church

Our poolside parrot! Loves Latin Hip Hop.

Moon setting over the ocean from our hotel balcony.

Rooftop view from our balcony.

Inside the market - unfortunately, Ivan didn't capture the pig's head on a stick.

Hotel, sweet Hotel, where the bar played the best of the eighties and served Margaritas

4. Little Corn. A Little Rough, a Little Bit of Heaven.

Finally, Saturday arrived and we flew to Big Corn Island. Then we caught the first ferry out to heaven - Little Corn. 

On our way!

Catching the ferry

The ride to Little Corn was fast and rough, the boat slamming so hard our stomachs jumped. The girls in front of us had to hang their heads between their knees just to keep from barfing. 

One young kid, wanting to be tough like his dad, insisted on jumping up and down at the front of the boat, giggling every time we hit a wave. Until he stopped laughing, and  - suddenly -  lunged for the open window and vomited. Ivan saw it coming but couldn't reach our window in time and so ended up with a sluice of kid-vomit down his back. 

All to say, I was very happy I'd taken my Gravol and was sitting on the inside seat.

We arrived at Little Corn by the afternoon and then proceeded to hike through a labyrinth of paths in the jungle to find our way to our net-zero, off-grid treehouse in Ensuenos.

The trail markers were painted coconuts and hand painted signs

Me and the cat fuel up for our walk

Vomit-kid leaps of the boat to freshen up

The dock at Little Corn

Ensuenos was my absolute favourite place we stayed this trip in terms of actual accommodations. No Wifi, limited power, rationed rainwater, and only a fire place for cooking. Every treehouse was handmade by the owner, giving it all a very "Gilligan's Island"- feel. 

The common room at Ensuenos

Our "treehouse" entrance

Our three-story gym and yoga retreat. So many bamboo reinforcements... still not sure what's going on here.

Art at Ensuenos

Common area

But while there were few amenities, there was bounty on the beaches. The snorkeling was mind-blowing. An 8-foot eagle ray swam right past me on our first day, and there wasn't a swim that didn't reveal at least one amazing creature or coral. 

Our northern beach

The beach outside our treehouse

We also went night diving with locals, spying octopi, lobsters and walking sea urchins, and ending the dive by turning off our lights and swimming through bioluminescence. It was like diving into the sky.

Sunset from the nearby resort

Most of the nights we cooked on the outdoor fire-stove with the very rudimentary, battered cooking pots. Food options were slim and mostly came in cans, with the supply boat only coming twice a week and few fresh produce on offer. Still, we managed to make some killer pasta.

Ivan at the cookstove

Pasta on the boil

Ivan beside the pizza stove (which housed a family of chickens so wasn't able to be used)

Inside our hut, with triangular windows that opened and mosquito netting around the bed (which is pretty important once you see the cracks between the boards).

Plenty of roosters, dogs and endless crabs

Wasn't all roughing it, though. One night, we arranged for a three-course dinner to be served by the resident chef, Vida. (Married to a Canadian from Vancouver Island, FYI.) The meal was comprised of a sashimi appetizer, followed by fish in passionfruit sauce with salad from the garden, and ending with a homemade pudding. And the setting was stunning!

Sashimi appetizer by hurricane lamp

Dinner all picked and caught that day.

Table set for our romantic chef's meal at Gilligan's Island

5. Back to Big Corn. No Big Names, Just Big Beaches

After a week or so, we hoisted our luggage back out through the jungle to catch the ferry back to Big Corn.

Double-backpacking it out of the jungle

Arriving at Big Corn

Big Corn is, well, bigger. The island actually has roads that you can drive vehicles down as opposed to hundreds of foot baths. The vehicle of choice are scooters, but we were able to borrow some bikes from the hostel to take a tour through town.

Didn't have much breaks, but it got us over the hills.

A Big Corn garden.

A common Big Corn house.

Iguana on the roof!

While not as remote as Little Corn, Big Corn still has that Caribbean vibe and a distinct lack of big-name big-brand hotels, like the Hilton and Weston, or stores. Instead, there's just a lot of small local enterprises like funky coffee shops and a pop-up sushi stand. 

Dinner at Darinia's Kitchen - you need to book via What's App

Chef Darinia preparing the sushi

The seating area outside of Sweet's Cafe, operated by a lovely local who makes homemade bagels and the only good coffee you can get in the area.

Meat was pretty scare on the island... The next door neighbours butchered their cow one Sunday morning right there on their front porch. By noon, it was all sold and the table cleaned up. 

And of course, there are also a string of beaches, the most memorable of which is Pic-Nic Beach, which runs for miles, is pure white sand and crystalline blue water, has almost no waves and offers the added bonus of not one but TWO permanent tiki bars that you can reach by boat.

Pic-Nic Beach with the boat-in Tiki bar in the background

Pic-Nic Beach

The rocky shores at our hostel

Lobster boats undergoing renovation, getting ready for Big Corn's famous lobster season.

So to sum it all up, while I missed my van, our trip to the Corn Islands was idyllic, authentic and very laid-back. If beach is your thing, and you don't mind a few flights, I highly recommend either of the islands for a vacation. Just don't forget your snorkeling gear.

After our flight back to Bluefields, we picked up our van and headed back the way we came, this time in search of another famous Nicaraguan island - Ometepe.

More on that in my next post. Hope you are all well!