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Travel Log: Bluefields, Monte Cristo Café and the Never Land.

Bluefields should have been a town of passage but it hasn’t been so easy to get out of it. The final destination, that I named as “the never land”, should have been Corn Island. Passing at Bluefields during national holidays will make impossible to keep your timetable and also to get proper information.

Two entire days passed trying to understand, without any result, when the ship to Corn Island should have passed from Bluefields.

Each time I asked, the discussion was something like this:

A:”Excuse me do you know when is the next ship to Corn Island?”,

B: “Yes, within two hours, pay attention to be here within that time”.

Two hour later around the docks:

 B: “Excuse me, where is the ship?”.

A: “the ship left 3 hours ago”.

B: “What?!”

“Jokes” apart, there is a twice-a-week connection based on a fixed schedule but if you cannot wait that planning you could jump on a cargo ship bound to the Island. Don’t trust the idea of sailing with the, so called, “panga loca” (crazy launch). This launch that sometimes is used on that route is definitely too small to sail for miles and miles in the open sea and it could be unluckily deadly. If you’re in a hurry you could go to the small Bluefields airport and take your flight.

So, wanting to drink a fresh banano “batido” (banana milk shake) and to ask few information I ended up in a small wooden bar close to the docks and next to the Navy barrack where there was the harbor Captain.

In this bar you’ll be welcomed by a couple of really kind and polite people with their daughter. You’ll seat under their small veranda where often you could encounter the policeman on duty who, armored with his Kalashnikov, is slowly observing the people coming and going from the harbor.

Talking with these people has been a real pleasure while, between a sip and the other, history of Bluefields was flowing through their words. They introduced us a kind of a leader of the Miskito people: an old man of 83 years old, extremely dark, polite and dressed of white linen.

While drinking a coffee the stories were passing through the English domination to the hurricane that destroyed the town till the killing of a Spanish investor. Everything was told accompanied with the strong will of expanding the bar in order to welcome more properly the few tourists and make them feel comfortable.

Don’t miss this place, passing here at dawn or in late afternoon has always been a pleasure made of simple courtesy and kindness of the owners who really made the effort of helping us in finding more precise information about the boats which were coming and going.

A world infinite miles distant from the craziness of a world always in a hurry such as the one we are used to.

At the end, after two days in Bluefields and many hours waiting in the harbor, the two sailors on duty, with their blue and grey combat uniforms and armored with their inseparable Kalashnikov, helped us to jump on a panga.

The never land was at this point just a failed attempt, this time the panga would have gone at nearer Laguna de Perlas (Pearl Lagoon).

Don’t miss the next post about this forgotten village on the shore, click here.

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