Managua

The flight from DFW to San Salvador featured lots of little kids and a pretty decent meal. I had a quick layover in San Salvador and a short flight to Managua. San Salvador's terminal was filled with duty free shops and, curiously, 80's music. Apparently, the market tested well for cheesy MTV videos on the long walks to one's flight.

Managua was interesting. Bag guys fighting quickly for work, custom declarations given to attendants looking more like doctors than custom agents, and we stopped to get a heat map of ourselves on the tv. But the most interesting aspect was the passport check in- after it was done, a "tourist fee" of $10 was extorted by any means possible. I had no cash, so the non-English speaking (except for "10 dollars") took me through the airport until he found an ATM, all the while speaking to anyone who would listen about the plight. He pointed to the ATM and I told him "I'm not using my MasterCard for this". 

So, we stood for at least 10 minutes there in a standoff for ten dollars in cash. He did not relent. We walked back to the booth from where he left 20 minutes before and waited for an English speaking friend. When one was found, the interpreter simply said, "You have friend?"

"Lots of them, but none here with $10!", I noted, then added, "Are you going to hold me all night for ten dollars?"

"Why you no have cash?", the interpreter asked. 

"For situations like this", I replied. 

It reminded me of the movie Better Off Dead, where the persistent paper boy hounded Jon Cusack by repeating his only line in the movie: "Two Dollars!"

Fortunately, JD was in sight and the other bag man grabbed my two heavy baseball equipment filled bags, sensing a big payday (which he should already known wasn't coming based on my "no cash" policy. But JD came through and would be repaid at the hotel bar after he some "chicken" wings. 

Gerard,

 our driver from Livonia, Michigan was waiting in a rented Toyota Corrola. Gerard has spent lots of time in Central America and has been in Managua since Monday. The best way to describe Gerard at this point is that he has a servants heart wrapped within a sailors mouth. He is a passionate, go-getter, man of action and he knows the lay of this land. He is genuinely excited about baseball and excited about language. 

The Toyota had a trunk issue, which was thoughtfully pointed out by every driver and motorcyclist on the way to the hotel. The trunk and backseat was full. JD was sandwiched into the back seat amid bags of equipment and seemed to be enjoying himself. The trunk, however, didn't stay such. In the haste of the bag guy to get his cash, he jammed the trunk shut in the bags and broke the fastening mechanism. 

Every 2 blocks or so, the trunk would open on our 20 minute drive to the hotel, which would be made even longer by our stop at gas station with no tools. Eventually, some resourceful Nicaraguan found pliers and temporarily fixed the trunk. Temporarily because 4 blocks later, the trunk flew open again. Gerard did his best, driving like an old lady out of necessity but it didn't help. 

Once we found the huge painting of Hugo Chavez, eerily reminiscent of the early Obama propaganda posters, we were within range. Of course, we had not eaten and at 10:50pm local time, we were hopeful the Crowne Plaza Bar would do the trick. 

6 units of wings for $6 and fried potatoes with cheese would indeed do the trick. The wings looked sketchy, but JD threw them down and the fried potatoes were just French fries in a bowl, covered in melted cheese. Gerard joined us with his own sustenances, Jim Beam and water, "in that order" he declared. 

Gerard didn't want to go back to the hotel, so he stayed with us. Now Phil had warned me JD was a snorer; no, he wasn't, Gerard was a snorer and a good one at that!

All in all, JD and I are thankful for God's provision on day 1. We are looking forward to the camp at Santa Rita today and the resort.