Travel Options

 Use only what you need, then be prepared to give up half.  It would be a fair and accurate motto regarding the personal space allotment on a public bus in Nicaragua.  The safest bet is to arrive early, push towards the front of the line, then race for a window seat on the shady side.  I make a quick calculation of the general direction the bus will be heading with regards to the rising or setting sun and use that to put me on the right path.  The window seats are small enough that I’m likely to be squished with my knees nearly up under my chin and pinned to my chest.  But hey, at least they’re my knees.  An aisle seat on a full bus means I’m now competing for space with the body parts of others, and I can forget about knees at that point.  A creeping hand and forearm takes over my headrest to support its owner.  A sweat-soaked t-shirt unsticks itself from a man’s back and gently flaps in the breeze, brushing against my exposed arm and cheek.  A large breast of an old woman bounces uncomfortably between my shoulder and my head.  I usually take this as a sign that the universe is attempting to correct some imbalance.  Give up your seat to this old woman, you bastard, is how I interpret it.  I succumb.

“Please, take it.  I don’t even want to sit, really.”  I say this sweetly but loud enough to force the other able-bodied (yet still seated) passengers into deep shame.  If I feel my message hasn’t been fully internalized I’ll shoot glances in several directions while shaking my head ever so slightly to convey my disappointment.  But in the end, all the dramatics are for naught.  I’m now in the least desirable position, scrunched into the 40 foot long by 2-½ foot wide “standing room only” section.  Capacity: ??
 

 
 But luckily for me I have travel options.  All this can be avoided by taking the 12-hour ferry ride from Granada, which arrives to my site at 3am.  There are two ticket choices: you can ride for half-price on the bare-bones lower deck or spring for the full-price upper deck and take advantage of all its amenities.  I always opt for the latter.  There’s an indoor cabin with A/C and cushy seats, hooks outside to hang your hammock so you can swing and sway in rhythm with the waves, and plenty of dirty backpackers for people-watching.  And the roominess!

Unfortunately, the recent influx of troops into the Rio San Juan has forced the ferry operators to use the lower deck strictly for army personnel and the once luxuriously unpopulated upper deck for all other civilian passengers.  This turn of events has really detracted from the enjoyment the trip once provided.  There was a certain simplistic beauty in being able to travel long distances while stretched out on a hammock.  But that was then and this is now.  So I’ve been forced to change my perspective during the journey.  I take solace and find inner peace while pondering the emptiness between the clouds and the lake.  And as I’m crossing Lake Nicaragua and looking out at the vast horizon and taking in the views of Ometepe just as the sun is setting, I can almost ignore the dense crowd of people behind me with whom I’ll soon be sharing the limited space of the concrete floor…that is until my gaze is drawn downward by the faint sound of splashing water, and I see the uncircumcised penis of a man in army fatigues leaning over the railing of the lower deck and whizzing off the side of the boat.