I just spent a few days on the Island of Ometepe in the enormous Lake Nicaragua. Before I went, everybody had been telling me how great it was - tropical paradise, friendly locals, nice place to relax for a few days.
And it's true, in many ways Ometepe is a tropical paradise. But the cliche applies, and there is some trouble.
Before I went, everyone had told me to go to this place called Hacienda Merida, which sounded sort of like summer camp: kayaks for rent, hammocks, a beach of sorts, family-style meals, and bonfires at night. It's always hard to know how much to listen to other travelers. On the one hand, you can't really trust your guidebook. So word-of-mouth is really important.
But if you base your trip wholly around other people's advice, you're likely to spend all your time smack in the middle of the gringo trail, eaing banana pancakes for breakfast, speaking english all day and traveling as if the country around you is just the backdrop for your party.
But I decided to go to the Hacienda anyway, mainly because it came recommended from like-minded travelers.
So when I got on the bus in Ometepe (that bus trip is another story), I told the ticket seller I wanted to go to Merida. The woman next to me told me she was from Merida and asked me where I was staying. I told her the Hacienda and the smile just faded from her face. It was a bit like a horror movie actually. Which seemed sort of odd.
By the time we got to Merida, it was pouring down rain and getting dark, and I was a bit nervous because I had no idea where to go, really. Luckily there was a German girl on the bus who sort of rescued me. She talked me out of staying at the Hacienda and took me to the place she was staying, Playa Volcan.
When I got there, I was glad I'd followed her. It was in a beautiful location, surrounded by jungle, and fronted by the lake. There were two thatch-roof dorms, a kitchen, a sheltered eating area and a hammock area overlooking the lake, and that was it.
I was greeted warmly by the other travelers staying there and by the staff off late-teenage boys, and after a half an hour sat down to a delicious meal of fresh fish and plantains.
At dinner, I heard the story of the Hacienda Merida. Years ago, the whole village was a farm owned by the Somoza family, the line of harsh dictators that ruled Nicaragua for most of the last century. The land had been taken years earler from the natives of the village. When the Sandinistas took power, all the Somozitas fled to Costa Rica or Miami and the land was confiscated. Many of the villagers got their land back during this time.
But after the Sandinistas lost power, the new government argued that these villagers didn´t have rights to this land, that it had been given to them illegally and tried to take it away again.
Into this mess marched the current owner of the Hacienda, an old crony o the last Somoza. He had spent the Sandanista years in Miami, so had an idea of what gringos would like. He managed to get a pretty large chunk of land and opened up Hacienda Merida. It´s become very successful. However, he has an awful track record with his workers. Some never got paid in two years of working there. Others are only paid about $1-$2 for a 14-hour work day.
It´s in the courts now, and if he doesn´t pay his workers the money he owes them, they will actually get his land. Of course, he will probably just pay them.
Last year, Carlos, the administrator for the Hacienda, finally decided he´d had enough and left, along with a few other employees and the help of some backpackers, to found Playa Volcan, where I stayed. All of his employees are high-school and college-aged boys and his goal is to help them earn enough money to go to university.
t was a really pleasant place to stay, and hanging out with the boys was a lot of fun. On Saturday night they took us to a local dance held by the school as a fundraiser. Other nights we just played cards and talked. other people from the same lane were always stopping by, for business or just to chat. The hostel business is cutthroat, but I really hoped Playa Volcan makes it.
Luckily, the word-of-mouth machine seems to be turning a bit against the Hacienda, and just in time for the high season! Once I got back to Granada and started telling people about the situation in Merida, I started hearing people say "yeah, I heard that guy is an asshole."
It´s so funny - it´s really easy to travel in a country and not even know what wheels are turning around you, or what impact your choices have on the community. All those backpackers lounging on Ometepe and thinking they´ve found paradise are sitting right in the middle of a major land struggle and have no idea.
Not that I´m looking down on them - I would have been exactly the same, had i not run into that German girl on the bus.