A Celebration of Children

Day 26 - Wednesday, November 27
Managua

Alex, Gary and Jay, on a mission, got up early and headed straight for the local Save the Children office. Curiously, in the sprawl of Managua it was only a few blocks away. They had no idea what to expect, whether there would be children there or if it was just an administrative office, so they went in with the video camera rolling.

It turned out to only be offices, but the bikers were welcomed warmly and the trio spent a few hours learning about the organization's activities in Nicaragua, interviewing several of the people and taking photos. In particular the guys spoke with Chantal Pallais who heads up the education program. She was extremely friendly and giving of her time. She went into great detail about STC's important work throughout Nicaragua - vaccination programs, classroom education, family health programs, pre- and post-natal counseling. Unfortunately for the riders all of it is done outside of Managua and usually in the morning. Already we had missed our chance for seeing it first hand that day.

The whole experience at the offices fired us up about the organization. One gentleman was packing up donated school materials which he would be delivering the following morning. We asked to join him and were emphatically invited.

Originally the plan for that day was for Gary, Alex and Jay to get something done with Save the Children and Jim and David to do some internetting in the morning. We would all meet up at 1:00 pm at the hotel and then leave for the border. The boys who had gone to STC, however, were willing to fall yet another day behind and stay for the chance to work with the children directly. Their enthusiasm for the experience rubbed off on David and Jim, who got equally as charged up about the opportunity.

The whole afternoon lay before us like a blank slate. Managua beckoned us to explore its sites, sounds and flavors. We started with lunch at a delightful and delicious restaurant serving authentic Nicaraguan cuisine. Gary, who asked the hotel for a restaurant that served good local food, couldn't believe it when the menu actually had a section entitled "Food of Nicaragua." After eating, David and Gary went off to see some art at a museum and the other three went to just ride around the old section of town.

There is no downtown so to speak; Managua just spreads out from along the waterfront of Lake Managua and into the low hills. What might have once been considered downtown is now a checkerboard of wide open fields complete with cows, shanty towns, and large municipal buildings, some in ruins. We thought we were looking at the ravages of war, but at the museum, David and Gary learned that the earthquake of 1972 had caused the real devastation. The museum itself was in the ruins of the old Grand Hotel. Upstairs were pictures of pre- and post-earthquake Managua. It is a shame the country never got it together to rebuild, for it once was a thriving and cultured city with a lot of character in its grand boulevards and stone buildings. Now, the only active parts of the city were the modern outskirts by the hotel, hollowly characterized by movieplexes and antiseptic fast food restaurants.

Evening on our second day in Managua was again introduced by a splendid burning sunset. David and Gary took the computer to a nearby computer center to use a monitor. Jay and Jim went to workout at a nearby gym. Alex did some meditation and yoga and turned in early. When David and Gary returned to also call it a night, Jim grabbed the computer and took off for another late-night internet session at the residence of a guy he had met at the gym.

Miles - 29

Day 27 - Thursday, November 28
Managua, Nicaragua to La Cruz, Costa Rica

The anticipation was tangible in the air as we packed up, checked out of the hotel, and rode to the Save the Children office. Miguel with the organization and some helpers were already loading the truck, so we quickly parked and lent a hand. In no time, the back of the pickup truck was completely filled with boxes and boxes of school supplies - notepads, paper, pens, pencils, textbooks, etc. We followed the truck on our cycles through a maze of side streets until we were on the main road outside of town. We rode for about 20 minutes past third-world style suburbs, growing more and more anxious to get there. In our minds, we had so many images of what it would be like, but as we trekked through the suburban sprawl, we hoped the pavement would eventually end and we would be more in the remote environs of our imaginings.

Sure enough, Miguel turned off onto a dirt track and the permanent roadside buildings gave way to ramshackle huts seemingly built of discarded lumber and trash. David saw an ironing board being used as a front door. Through the dirt and mud we followed the pickup to a small one-room schoolhouse set atop a knoll. The lack of appropriate access for vehicles told us how rare it was that the school received deliveries. We dismounted with enthusiasm only to learn that the kids had finished school for the season just the day before. What a letdown.

Undeterred, Miguel led us down to another impoverished settlement. No lack of kids here. We were immediately surrounded by a throng of little kids and watched with cool reserve by their parents and guardians. Although it was Thursday, everyone was dressed in their Sunday best, so we knew something special was going on. The teachers informed us that today was graduation for the first-graders. Inside the small school things were all set up for the event. One side of the room had normal sized chairs for the adults, and the other was filled with 50 cute little chairs for the graduates.

Before the event started, we helped unload some boxes off the truck. The children were fascinated by our appearance and gear. In particular, they liked the Camelbacks, water containers we wear as backpacks with flexible tubing so we can drink while riding. It was a circus and we were the main attraction. Miguel bid us farewell as he had many more stops to make, but we stayed to watch and participate in the activities. Inside, five chairs were hastily placed in an honored position right in front.

The time came for the ceremonies to begin and we did not wish to be an interruptive distraction. With tender insistence, we untangled ourselves from the web of little fingers and took our seats inside. An out-dated stereo system began playing the graduation march as one by one the kids entered, paused for a photo from one of the several photographers on hand (including us) and took their seats. On each one of their cute little heads was a homemade graduation cap, made of paperboard and ribbon.

During the introduction speech by one of the teachers, we were officially welcomed as representatives of Save the Children. The event continued over the next couple hours. Several of the children came up to recite poetry or dance for the enjoyment of the audience. Rolled-up diplomas were handed out to each of the students and more pictures were taken.

As we watched, questions came up in our minds about the value of our presence on this day. What did we represent to the children and the parents? Were we an unattainable goal or did we give hope and inspiration? Did our attendance make them feel special and important and plant a seed of self-worth? Or were we simply a curiosity to be talked and joked about after we left?

We knew that what we learned there would affect us very deeply and came away with a greater appreciation for the work done by Save the Children. Their influence, if not ours, was widely evident. All over the walls were professionally made posters about cholera and water treatment. The school was clean and well organized, and everyone from the teachers to the parents to the children were enthusiastic about education.

A Future Bright with Hope

As the formal ceremonies ended and transformed into a celebration, we demurely made our exit. In stark contrast to the well-organized event going on inside, the crowd still gathered outside at the bikes now consisted of kids dressed in rags, dirty and undernourished. The older ones looked very street-wise and desperate, capable of violence. Unfortunately, Save the Children doesn't have the funds or resources to help everyone, and the older kids probably never had the opportunity to participate in the relatively new program. This stark contrast accentuated the positive affect that education has in such a community.

We somehow found our way back to the neighborhood by the hotel and were soon on the road to Costa Rica. The drive was long and hot and flat. Much of it was alongside Lake Nicaragua, with its two active island volcanos rising up from the water. An officer standing at the roadside tried to wave us down with his baton, but not 100% certain he meant us, we turned a blind eye and kept going. We felt sorry for the poor schmuck tagging along on his motorcycle who did pull over.

Lunch was a cheap affair of rice and beans. We arrived at the Nicaraguan side of the border at 4:00pm. Gary and Alex went on duty, following around their tramitador from building to building, here a stamp, there a stamp, everywhere a stamp stamp. The Transit Police wanted to see our receipt for the $20 per bike. We explained how the fee had been waived. With the blankest of stares, they read the typed note on each of our vehicle permits stating this fact, and with calm resignation, stamped them. This had obviously never happened before, ever.

We cruised over to Costa Rica where things were quite a bit better organized and civilized. At least it appeared that way. There were no tramitadors here, only well-dressed moneychangers, who spoke a smooth English and an even smoother game. The process was straightforward; all the necessary departments were in a row behind a large glass window.

Things were going well until David got to the window. For starters, the $20 fee which included mandatory vehicle insurance put him off. We tried to get the fee waived again, but the head of the office had already left for the day. Losing out on that one, David moved on to the issue of insurance. We had already purchased insurance for all of Central America from Sanborn's in Texas. David showed the woman at the window our insurance forms, but she would not back down. David's growing frustration was matched by her growing coolness, returning to her newspaper and coffee with a well-practiced detachment. Oh well, can't win them all. David bought the insurance.

Don't drive past this sign yet!

At the next window, another problem, one we almost flat-out lost big time. The man at customs asked to see David's motorcycle title. David handed him a photocopy which was rebuked. Only the original would be accepted. Unfortunately, the original was 5,000 miles back in San Francisco. Ditto on the registration. Not even the argument that we had crossed five other borders to get this far with only a copy would persuade him to let David through. Like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat, David rummaged through his tank bag and found a notarized copy of his title for just such an emergency. Still, it took a lot of delicate persuasion (not David's specialty) before he was allowed to pass.

Waiting in the batter's box, Jim quivered. Not only had he also left his originals in San Francisco, but he did not have any notarized copies. Perhaps the laminated version would work. Not! Jim began to scout out a place to lay his sleeping bag at the border, resolved to wait until the morning when the supervisor returned. He would NOT pay a bribe. On his behalf, the rest of us decided we'd treat him to a bribe just to get the hell on the road. Already we'd been there two hours.

Alex and his suave, film-industry schmoozing ability came to the rescue. He chatted up the guy behind the window for about 15 minutes. The two of them took a walk around the complex talking about baseball of all things. Alex doesn't know anything about the sport, but he bluffed enough to befriend the chap who finally relented and stamped Jim's paperwork.

Ah, Costa Rica. We drove quickly and carefully through the now dark countryside to the first town 30 miles away. We found lodging at the quaint Cabinas Santa Rita in La Cruz. Suddenly realizing it was Thanksgiving, feelings of homesickness worked their way into our tired minds. Jim offered to take us out for dinner. The only turkeys we saw at the table were each other. Dinner was a joyous affair of Costa Rican cuisine, toasts and funny stories. We all felt thankful for the great fortune which had safely and successfully transported us our first 5000 miles.

Miles - 115

In the vein of Thanksgiving, the time has come for us to ask once again for donations. Any and all of you that haven't made a donation to either the American Cancer Society or Save the Children or both, be thankful for what you have and think about what others don't have, be it good health or good education.

We hope you all had a wonderful Holiday. To our friends and family, we miss you and think about you often on our long rides. Sorry for the delay in getting up our journals, but internet connections are hard to come by in the third world.