R woke up in a foul mood and was tantruming from the get-go. I think it was because he hardly ate anything last night, so was hungry, but being 2 (and a half) he doesn't know he's grumpy because he's hungry. He refused the cereal I got him and when we went to the cafe area at the front of the hostel he kept shouting 'No, No, I don't want it' to pretty much whatever he was offered. 'I don't like cereal, I don't like eggs and toast, I don't want
it, No.'
And he holds his hand out emphatically as he shouts over and over again. It's one thing when they do this in the privacy of your own home, but when it's in a public setting, it feels mortifying. Even though we're pretty comfortable in this place now and the staff and many of the guests who have been here for a while know us, I still feel like I'm part of a performance and the test is to handle it without losing it. This morning I do quite a good job of staying calm and saying all the right things about having heard him etc but not pandering to his whims, which are more fury than substance.
We get our rice,beans, egg, toast, watermelon, banana breakfasts and it's the banana that finally cracks him. He eats a few pieces and I'm waiting for the food to kick in and take the edge off his mood. As more banana goes down, I feel more and more relieved. Now I know it's time for ketchup - so I ask for it and he has some on his plate and dips his toast in it and eventually his egg. Gradually, cute litte R returns and
Dama, the Lithuanian surfer girl appears and even asks if she can sit with us. Amazing.
I'm able to leave R and Dama chatting while I go finish our packing.
This is the latest I've left the packing. I guess I know I can do it in relatively little time now and I also feel less stressed about today's journey as we've a few good ones under our belts now (foolish with a toddler to assume that because something has happened once, it will happen again, but it helped me). I think also that the great day we had yesterday has set me up well for today. And as the day wears on, that becomes increasingly clear.
Since we will be on the move I put R in a nappy for the first day time in about 5 days. He doesn't argue and I wonder if it's a relief for both of us.
A few people at the hostel have been showing an interest in the blog. Jordan has showed it to his mom and says she's really pleased to see him in something. I say I hope nothing I've written has compromised him at all and he says no, his mom knows everything. I later see she has left a very sweet comment. And Dama asks for the URL.
It's sad to say good bye to what have now become some very familiar (and friendly) faces. It's kind of odd telling R that we are going and I feel the need to tell him we are going on a boat to an island with volcanoes so he has something to look forward to rather than just to wonder why we are leaving. R does nice goodbyes and gives kisses to the two kitchen girls.
We take a shuttle bus to the ferry port. On the way, a man in his 60s is sitting next to us. I ask him a question about bus tickets to Costa Rica as I realise I have not sorted my return one out yet and this could be a mistake as you need to go the office to buy the tickets. (By the way, my mum managed to move our flights two days earlier so I have time to recover from jetlag before going to work). Other passengers tell me that they have tried to book tickets to Costa Rica for the end of the month and they have been all booked up.
Stress levels go up, but there's nothing I can do about it right now.
The old guy, who sounds American but is probably Canadian asks if I have been to Ometepe before and I say yes, 20 years ago.
He is amazed and says - so there wouldn't even have been internet or cellphonesback then ? And I say no, there was no paved road.
Then he says to R, 'where are you from?' and R goes 'Um um um um um um um ummmmmmmm ummmmmmm ummmm ..... Costa Rica'.
I laugh and say to him, that's a good try and that is where we have come from but we are from England. He says 'oh England.' The other day I tried to teach R that when you meet someone you can ask them 'what's your name?' - the way he always get asked. To my amazement, he looks at the man and says 'what's your name?'
The man says Robert. And I say, that starts with a R, just like your name. R seems pleased about this.
Then he slides down to the floor and sits by my feet for the rest of the journey. We get to the ferry port and we are the only two getting out. Robert says 'you are on your OWN?' and I say yes, and he says, 'wow, you are ballsy'. Then he grabs to bag porter type guys and tells them to help me with our stuff.
Hang on a minute Robert. I didn't ask you to do that. Your act of 'chivalry' means now I have to pay the 'single mother tax'. I could actually have managed by myself - even though it is a struggle.
If you really wanted to help you could have given the guys the tip I now owe them. I'm capable of paying for help myself when I d
The man who carries the bags tells me two things I later learn to be false
1) I will have to pay $50 to get a taxi in Ometepe to the hostel I've pre-booked. (And guess what, he offers to call a cab for me from the mainland).
2)There are no buses to the hostel I've booked online. My stress levels are mounting and I
spend the boat trip reviewing my options.
We end up taking the small boat that the Lonely Planet advises against but it meant an hour less waiting time. It is pretty choppy but thankfully neither of us gets sea sick and in fact R falls asleep in my lap.
The island of Ometepe consists of two volcanoes in the middle of Lake Nicaragua. Today it looks cloudy and grey from the mainland, but the closer the boat gets to it, the lusher and greener and more beautiful it appears and the more grey the mainland looks. I feel the occasional twinge of excitement amid the stress.
At the other side, two tourists help me disembark and then I do manage all the stuff by myself and it's fine and feels good. I have decided that I may not keep the commitment to the pre-booking. I feel bad about this but have no means of contacting them. I can't face a 2 hour journey to the place and I've also been told there is no wifi there. And when I'm on my own and without a guide book, I have to face the fact that I am dependent on wifi. Apart from anything else, to post these blogs. So I decide to abandon any pre-planning, try and find a cafe with wifi to sit at and research places we can stay from there. R has been pretty good so far today, again, likely in part because he's had dummy and bunny all morning (since we're travelling).
I speak to a few of the mob at the port all trying to get you to go to their place but walk on past in the end. I look at a travel information place and a solitary guy approaches me and says he is going to Balgue and if I want to get to San Ramon, he will take me to Santa Cruz for $10 and I can wait there for the 2.30 bus.
It's now midday. This seems like a reasonable option and I sound him out about different destinations and possiblities. We end up getting in his car with him. Once in, it occurs to me that I can't see any proof he's a taxi driver so I ask for it and he shows me some certificates he has in the car. Good enough.
On the way to Balgue, I keep asking questions about the different hostels, and what there is for children and then I remember to ask about wifi and it looks like the place which will work best for us is Playa Santa Domingo - where there is a choice of place to stay, some places to eat and wifi. He drops us at a place and says this is the best one for you and off he goes.
We wander in and there is a nice open plan seating and hammock-chair area over-looking the lake. I find someone who works here and the most miserable woman in Central America shows me a choice of two tiny rooms - one with two single beds and one with a double.
Coming from a place where the staff were all smiles for R, I am reluctant to stay at this place, so I stash our bags in one of their communal spaces (without asking) and go to check out other accommodation possiblilities. This is the point where R stops playing ball.
At the next place we go to, he wants to go onto the beach. He won't do anything I say or ask, he's flatly ignoring me. I try carrying him, he runs back. I try ignoring him, he goes further onto the beach. I try reasoning with him, he ignores me. I try begging him, he ignores me. In the end bribery works and I say we will get some food. Then he won't stop bothering me about food, even though I'm saying we need somewhere to live before we can get food. We manage to look at two more places before I go back to the first and say we'll take a room. I opt for the double because I'm afraid R will insist on sleeping with me and I won't get any sleep if we're both in a single bed. It's $25 a night and breakfast is not included. Smiles neither.
We dump our stuff and go to a cafe just along the beach. They have run out of a lot of good looking options on the menu but we order a banana smoothie, a beer and some bread and butter. We sit over-looking the lake. I take a photo of R and can see it looks pretty amazing, I'm just struggling to feel it. I spend most of the time negotiating with R about where he's sitting, how much sand is on his hands which he's now sticking in his drink, how he is spilling his drink everywhere, how he shouldn't pick the big glass up because he might how not to drop it, how chewing his straw will mean he can't then drink through it, why beer is for grown ups, why eating butter (margarine in fact) like cheese is not a good idea and fielding questions about why there are no sharks in Lake Nicaragua, why the lake is a lake and not the sea, what creatures live in the sea (he wants a full list), why that bird has a bendy neck and why the sea is salty.
I see a few other tourists looking at us and smiling at the cuteness of the kid at the table. No one ventures to speak to us though.
Somewhat satiated, we head to the beach and walk along. We find a tree that looks semi-climbable so I put R in it, but without his amigos (or any branches to hold onto) he is scared and wants to get down. Then we find a set of swings and a climbing frame and we have some fun on that.
A 5 year old tourist boy comes from a nearby hotel and impresses R with his swinging and climbing skills, then disappears with his sister into th lake.
Re-tracing our steps, we see four local girls playing. They must be aged between 6 and 14 and they have a little girl and a rabbit. They are running around, wrestling in the sand and giggline and generally having a good time. The rabbit is our 'in' and we go up to them to have a look at it. R strokes it gingerly. Then we look at the dog and we ask their names.
I tell them R wants very much to play with them. They don't say anytihng but then R goes to the top of the sandy slope and starts to roll down it sideways, giggling. Two of the girls copy him. Then they all do. Then he suddenly becomes part of their little gang, chasing and running and laughing and getting covered in sand. Next they head to the lake and go in with their clothes on. R wants in so badly and demands I take all his clothes (and nappy) off, which I do. He runs into the lake to play with them. There are fairly choppy waves breaking right at shore but the water is between ankle and thigh deep for him so I'm comfortable with it but stay maybe 15m from where they are playing just in case.
R is occasionally battered by a wave and knocked over but mostly he holds his own, and when he does go down, he recovers well, even if his head goes under and gets up again, only momentarily looking unsure. The girls include him in all their games and it's really sweet to watch.
They all come out of the lake and start digging a hole and throwing sand at each other. R joins in (oh joy - other people who LIKE throwing sand) and also chases their little dog around, which is very comical to watch.
Eventually I drag him away, clean him off and get him dressed for dinner. We go to a restaurant with NO customers but which I've been told does chips. I order a plate of chips and a rice and fish dinner for us both to share. The fish looks grim - hardly any flesh on it, and comes with a piece of white fluffy bread in quarters and a sliver of tomato, cucumber and carrot which they had the cheek to call a 'salad'. The plate of chips however, is three times as big as any I've seen in Central America and looks really good. R decides he is not sharing and shrieks in outrage any time I dare to even look at 'his' food. Emily, you'll be pleased to know he even said 'don't you dare' to me.
I try the tactic of I won't share my fish with you if you won't share your chips but he doesn't
give a f*ck. I think there's no way he'll finish that whole plate, but sure enough he does.
We head home, do teeth and story and then I go get him some milk. I've fired the intercom up as the place where I can write is a distance from where he's sleeping and it's our first night in a new place so I don't want him crying unheard. All seems well.
I don't know what the next few days will bring: I'm almost out of cash so will have to go back to the main town to get more, either tomorrow or the next day. If I can't get the bus tickets to San Jose sorted, we may have to spend a whole day going back to the mainland to do that. But if we do go back to the mainland, maybe we should just stay there ?
And there's the promise that Eva will arrive at the island soon too so really hoping that happens in time as maybe with two adults we can have some better adventures.
Finally, a note on hitting: I gave R a spank the other day when he threw stones at me on the beach. The spank did nothing to modify his behaviour and he did more of the same the next day. Therefore from my study of one child, I conclude that hitting is ineffectual.