Penny-pincher’s playground

Casares, Nicaragua

FRESH from the ocean, the glistening red snapper stacked on the scale weighed a little more than 5 pounds -- enough, decreed cook Mayra Hernandez Arteaga, for the evening’s meal. She counted 72 Nicaraguan cordobas -- a little less than $5 -- for the clerk.

This colorful daily ritual played out on the beach just beyond the shade of the seaside fish market. Fishermen carried their morning catch into the market or sold it right from the boat. Helpers removed the 55-horsepower outboard engines and, using logs, rolled the pangas up on the sand, beyond reach of the day’s high tide. Villagers chatted with returning fishermen or peered into foam containers at sea bass, mackerel and red snapper. Children frolicked up and down the beach, accompanied by a large sow, foraging for its daily allotment of carelessly discarded garbage.

Friends scoffed when we -- my wife, M.J., and I and our friends Mary and Charles -- told them we planned a month’s vacation in a rental house on the Pacific coast of Nicaragua last February.

“Nicaragua?” some asked incredulously. But we had the last laugh. To wit:

* Inexpensive rentals. Ours was a huge, stone colonial house on a hill overlooking the water, with three terraces stretching more than half the length of a football field, where we could read in peace, watch pelicans dive for their lunch, guess at the comings and goings of the daily tides and gather to watch the sunsets. The rental, like almost everything else in Nicaragua, was cheap: $800 for the month.

* A few miles of sandy beach, with a 40-foot swimming pool built into the natural rock at the water’s edge right below the house, a pool that was refreshed twice a day by the incoming tide, all of this under perpetually sunny skies, with temperatures in the 80s.

* Daily meals of fresh fish and fresh tropical fruit, prepared by Mayra, a 29-year-old Nicaraguan and an excellent cook, who also cleaned and took care of the house with the help of three nieces.

* A welcome much friendlier than we expected, given the history of U.S. involvement in Nicaraguan affairs, plus the fact that we were the only Americans in town. The words hola or buenos dias invariably turned curious looks from the locals into broad smiles and precipitated affable greetings in return.

* What we sought more than anything else: a warm-weather foreign vacation on the ocean, where we could immerse ourselves in the language and culture without paying $300 a day to be surrounded by other Americans.

One thing became clear quickly: In this situation, freed from the everyday chores of cooking and cleaning, we had before us all the makings of the most peaceful and memorable beach vacation we had ever enjoyed.

Tourism in its infancy

Nicaragua, a little smaller than New York state but the largest country in Central America, seems to be in the infancy of tourism, just as its southern neighbor Costa Rica was about 30 years ago. Nicaragua has virtually no beachfront resorts and few large modern hotels beyond its capital, Managua. When visitors do come, they tend to travel mostly to the Pacific Coast and the major cities in the rolling coastal plain -- Managua, which has a population of about a million, and Leon (about 160,000) and Granada (about 75,000).

The downside to any visit -- and, yes, there is a downside -- is that Nicaragua is one of the poorest nations in the Western Hemisphere, saddled with many problems common to the developing world: lack of pure drinking water, for example, or health concerns such as dengue or malaria. Or electricity that can shut down at a moment’s notice; free-ranging pigs, cattle, goats and dogs; or trash, much of it plastic, in particular, plastic bags that snag in trees, fence rows, barbed wire, roadside fields and especially the prickly pear cactus on our hillside leading down to the beach. (The government has launched an education and cleanup program that is showing some results, but it undoubtedly will be years before the worst littering stops.)

In the minds of many Americans, Nicaragua is also a land of war and strife, but the civil war of the 1980s between the U.S.-backed Contras and the Soviet-supported Sandinistas seems to be in the distant past now for most natives who, partly because there are still relatively few tourists, appear to welcome American visitors.

In November 2001, voters elected Enrique Bolanos, a conservative, grandfatherly businessman, to a six-year term, spurning by a wide margin the Sandinista party and its faded leader Daniel Ortega, who ran the country for much of the 1980s. Bolanos, hoping to build the Nicaraguan economy, has put the welcome mat out for tourists.

So here we were. And we found that whatever Casares (or Nicaragua, for that matter) might have lacked in creature comforts was easily made up for in authenticity and warmth. The trash was more an eyesore than anything else and quickly forgotten. For drinking and cooking water, we bought 5-gallon bottles from the local grocery, or pulperia. The electricity, although occasionally interrupted, was off for only one full day. Potential health threats seemed remote.

Two Internet cafes

Renting a car for two weeks, we managed overnight trips to the colonial city of Granada, about two hours’ drive west, that has several good hotels and restaurants and is rated by most travelers, including us, as the nation’s most picturesque and interesting city, and its most tourist-friendly. We also visited the crafts center of Masaya, between Granada and Managua, and the active volcano at Volcan Masaya National Park.

From Casares, we traveled a couple of times a week to Diriamba to check our e-mail (the two Internet cafes charged about 66 cents an hour) and to stock up on milk and other provisions not readily available in Casares.

Mary and Charles, fluent in Spanish, soon became involved talking to English classes in the local school, which combined elementary and junior high. Before we knew it, with the concurrence of the teachers, we were all contributing money to buy much-needed dictionaries for the classrooms.

M.J. and I practiced our Spanish with Nicaraguans on the beach and in town, as well as with Mayra and her three nieces, Maria Gabriela, 15, and Heymi Fabiola and Geysel Marbeliz, both 11.

Because crowding forced the school to divide into morning and afternoon shifts, they spent a fair amount of time in the house and seemed as delighted with our presence as we were with theirs. They chatted between chores and accompanying us to the beach for a swim or a search for shells. A dog named Campeon, one of the few creatures who didn’t seem to like Americans, and two small, squawking parrots rounded out the inhabitants.

The drinking water came from those 5-gallon plastic bottles, which cost about $1.60 each. Water for the gravity-fed showers was trucked in and pumped into an overhead tank, for about $8 a tankful, which lasted about five days.

The house sprawled across the hillside on two levels and was built of quarried stone, with ceramic tile roof and native touches throughout -- paintings, textiles, statuary, decorative tile floors and wall niches with small art pieces or other ornamental elements such as shells.

It had three bedrooms, two smaller ones on the first floor and a huge one on the second, with a separate kitchen and dining room and separate quarters for the caretaker.

We spent most of our time on the terraces, which were landscaped with palms, oleander, bougainvillea and other tropical plantings, doing exactly what we had come for: as little as possible.

We rose with the dawn, took the day pretty much as it came, had dinner around 7 and were generally in bed reading or asleep by 9.

Meals were often a highlight of the day. A favorite was pargo rojo -- red snapper sauteed in butter and oil with garlic. Mayra scored the whole fish on both sides with a sharp knife, then browned it to perfection and served it with rice and fried plantains, yucca or potatoes, with diced and chilled fresh fruit for dessert.

She made an outstanding ceviche, marinating fresh sea bass and lobster in a combination of lime and orange juices and spices. Although we had chicken or beef occasionally, most often the meal was whole red snapper or a fried fish fillet -- sea bass, barracuda, mackerel or red snapper-- always fresh from the sea that day.

When we walked to the kitchen in the morning, Mayra usually had the morning brew made, which we drank on the terrace as the sun rose over the hill to the east and its rays caught the crashing waves before us.

Yet another day in paradise, someone would inevitably say. Down below, an older Nicaraguan man was inevitably taking his morning swim while a few shell seekers straggled by.

During the day, from rocking chairs lined up on the terrace, we watched the fishing boats strung out on the near horizon, sometimes surrounded by gulls and pelicans as the fishermen gutted their catch.

Or, closer in, we marveled at the constant aerial parade of pelicans skimming the waves, then abruptly diving for fish, while frigate birds circled higher overhead.

In the evening, after watching the sunset, we sat in our rockers and eagerly anticipated the words from the doorway that signaled dinner, Ya esta servida la mesa, then trooped in to see what awaited us.

An hour or so later, we were back in the rocking chairs, enjoying the blinking lights of the fishing boats; the bright, clear heavens; the occasional airplane flashing its path across the sky, and, of course, the conversation that ensues among good friends caught up in a marvelous foreign adventure.

There were occasional chess games in the evening or a few card games, including War with our favorites Fabiola and Marbeliz. We studied Spanish off and on and read the two main national newspapers, La Prensa and El Nuevo Diario. We read plenty of books. We watched no television and didn’t miss it. (There was no TV in the house at the time, but there is one now.)

Peaceful beach vacation

The beach was a daily magnet. Sometimes we just strolled south toward the village, looking for conch shells or others that had survived the pounding of surf on rock. Other times we walked in the opposite direction, particularly at low tide when it was possible to go as far north as La Boquita, the closest beach village, about four miles away.

The coastline between the two was a mass of rock, much of it tilting into the sea, as if upended by some earthquake or tectonic shift or volcanic eruption -- certainly a possibility in a land of active volcanoes and, infrequently, earthquakes.

The house we rented is owned by a Floridian couple who also have a home in Granada. Many of the seaside homes strung out along the cliffs between the two villages were weekend retreats for well-to-do residents of Managua and ranged from modest cottages to elaborate compounds.

During the week, we had the beach and pool mostly to ourselves. On weekends we shared them with Nicaraguan families, both local and from Managua, a 90-minute drive to the northeast. The pool, we were told, had been built into the rock 30 years ago by several priests at the small Catholic church adjacent to our house.

Casares itself was not much: one paved street leading right down to the seaside, where there was a single restaurant adjacent to the fish market. There was a school, a processing plant for fish and a few small pulperias, but many of the everyday homes were little more than huts. In fact, the only well-maintained and relatively modern buildings seemed to be the Pentecostal and Apostolic churches.

One small hotel and restaurant anchored the southern perimeter of town, and La Boquita, four miles up the coast, also had the same. Both facilities were deserted, however, except for weekends when some visitors arrived from Managua.

Because baseball is the most popular sport in Nicaragua, there were organized games Sundays on the local field, and it is not uncommon to see children playing baseball in vacant fields and pastures. Teams from the major cities play in a national league that gets heavy media coverage in season, which runs from January into April.

Except for the morning trips to the market, the time at the beach and the local school, and a few trips to other towns, we stuck to the house, particularly at night, because there was nothing to do in the village and no reason to go out.

As the month progressed, we noticed that many more pelicans seemed to be heading south than north and then, in a matter of a few days, huge flocks -- we counted 184 pelicans in one -- were winging down the coast. It was migration time, one Nicaraguan beachcomber told us. The birds were heading below the equator, where it was cooler.

Unlike the pelicans, we found the weather was just about perfect right where we were: It was sunny every day, with temperatures in the high 80s but generally with sea breezes that cooled the air.

It was, as we expected from the get-go, the most peaceful and memorable beach vacation we had ever experienced.

Certainly it was not Southern California, Florida or South Texas. For this, as we pack again for a return visit, we continue to give thanks.

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Many facets of Nicaragua

GETTING THERE:

From LAX, direct service to Managua is available on TACA, and connecting service (change of planes) is available on Continental, American and COPA. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $669.

TELEPHONES:

To call the numbers below from the U.S., dial 011 (the international dialing code), 505 (country code for Nicaragua) and the local number.

WHERE TO STAY:

We found our rental house in Casares through www.nicamigo.com, a private website run by Bob and Norma Stemm, Floridians who split their time between Tampa and a home they own in Granada that they also rent out. They can be reached at amigo@nicamigo.com. Our rental was $800 a month; payment for our cook-housekeeper was left to us. (We gave her $200 for the month, which is in addition to her monthly salary from the Stemms.)

Other private rentals can be found the same way or by doing Web searches for real estate offices selling property, some of which also rent. Keep in mind that prices will vary, depending on the owner or the property.

If you want a resort, Barcelo Montelimar, Carretera de Masachapa, Kilometro 65, Managua, Nicaragua; 269-6769, fax 269-7757, www.barcelo.com, one of the few first-class places in Nicaragua. It’s an hour’s drive west of Managua. Doubles begin at $75 a night.

Many visitors seeking a beach vacation travel to the picturesque town of San Juan del Sur, set on a Pacific bay three hours’ drive southwest of Managua.

Hotel Villa Isabella, Diagonal Norte, Iglesia Catolica, San Juan del Sur; (888) 508-1778 (reservations from U.S.) or 458-2568, fax 458-2549; www.sanjuandelsur.org.ni/isabella. It is the best and most expensive hotel there and is about two long blocks from the beach. Doubles begin at $63 a night, including breakfast.

Other hotels a bit closer and in the moderate range include the Hotel Casa Blanca, Paseo Maritimo, San Juan del Sur, Rivas; 458-2135 (from about $55) and Hotel Estrella, along the bay, 458-2210, from $4 a night.

Information about San Juan del Sur is available on www.sanjuandelsur.org.ni.

TO LEARN MORE:

Consulate General of Nicaragua, 3550 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 200, Los Angeles, CA 90010; (213) 252-1170, fax (213) 252-1177, www.consuladodenicaragua.com. Also check www.intur.gob.ni or www.nicaragua.com.

-- Michael Shoup

Michael Shoup is formerly the travel editor of the Philadelphia Inquirer.