Category: Managua

Nightmare In Nicaragua 3

Next morning I waited for a text from Josias – I needed reassurance granny wasn’t off with my bike.

Susan and I discussed and made a plan. We decided if I didn’t hear by lunchtime I would text him. At 10am I broke and sent him a message – ‘Hola Josias, como esta mi moto’.

Yup, our plan was ‘oot the windae’. It failed on first contact with my nerves.

Uppermost in my mind was you lot – oh yes, I could already hear you laughing at me being robbed by Jesus and his granny.

I had pinned the location of granny on Google Maps. Yeah, yeah, I’m not so daft. Well, maybe I am but at least I knew where granny lived – I had a big red heart (favourite) on my Managua Google map labelled ‘Granny’.

Thankfully, Josias soon replied and I didn’t have to follow that red heart to granny. What a relief!!

Josias explained the clutch was finished and he sent a photo of the bike. Thank goodness granny doesn’t have carpet.

And here’s the burnt out clutch plates or ‘discos’ as we call them in this part of the world.

We needed a new set of ‘discos’. Big problem – nowhere in Central America has these ‘discos’. Nowhere. We were in a disco desert.

Two days later, we sourced discos in Connecticut, USA, and arranged for them to be shipped via Miami. It would take a week. That’s the best we could do.

The Nicaraguan shipping agent was a nice guy and very helpful. He had a warehouse and he shipped things. He bought the discos from USA and then sold them to me on arrival for cash. It was a reasonable deal.

Before I go any further, I should add some context because I know a few intelligent people read these stories and will be shouting ‘didyounotthinkabout….. etc etc.’ That’s how intelligent people think – they call it joined up thinking.

I tried BMW garages in Guatemala, El Salvador and Costa Rica. They all replied it would be a month to source the ‘discos’ and if they’re saying a month then that’s best case scenario.

Going back to Costa Rica would have meant our visa for Honduras would expire and that’s us finished if we can’t pass through Honduras. Transporting a broken bike across borders with no guarantee it would get fixed would be another problem altogether.

So now we waited.

We were in a nice hostel with nice friendly people. I mean very friendly people. It was a hostel and so like South American hostels there were a lot of young ‘backpackers’. We were all very cool.

Unfortunately, although our room was comfortable, it looks like a jail cell.

Fortunately, it had a nice area outside where hostel cool people can chill, talk about ‘discos’ and do their ‘yard time’.

Unfortunately, there’s not much to do in Managua. It’s safe enough if you take a pragmatic view as to what you should do and where and when you should go. Its not a pretty place. It’s not a place for tourists.

Fortunately, there is a shopping mall down the road from our hostel.

Unfortunately, it’s a twenty minute hot, humid walk.

We walked to the mall twice a day for exercise, coffee and food.

That was about it.

We lived a simple, extraordinarily boring life waiting for the discos.

One day we walked to the market.

Another rubbish market in another rubbish city. They’re all over the world and only Tic Toc people and Instagrammers find them fascinating. I’d like to put these markets into some context though – they’re still better than Benidorm!

On the way to the market we passed through a neighbourhood we shouldn’t be in. I saw a teaspoon of white powder being passed through a grill in a door. Yup, it could have been sugar for his tea. Just didn’t get the feeling it was.

So we got a taxi back.

Eventually, after being in Managua for 8 days the ‘discos’ arrived and we went with Josias to collect. Oh, I know – you want a photo and so here it is. Discos 👇

Josias took the discos and went back to granny. That was Friday lunchtime and I was hoping we might get the bike on Friday evening. Josias said we would. Excellent.

We celebrated in my favourite restaurant – beer and wings! Nice! It only has one downside – I have to sit and watch Susan’s face as she has disdainfully eats the food. She puts up with it because her life is all about putting up with me. Life can’t always be about hummus, pitta bread and veggies – sometimes life is beer and battered wings. As Oasis once said ‘you’ve gotta roll with it’.

Late in the day, I received a text from Josias – did I have the technical manual for my bike that showed the position of the ‘discos’ within the clutch?

Oh, my legs crumbled and I whimpered.

After a week waiting for the ‘discos’ he was now asking me for the technical installation details.

Be calm, Clif. Be calm! Granny has your bike hostage. Be calm!

Thirty minutes later I sent him 6 photos from the appropriate technical manual downloaded from the internet.

I crumble, I whimper, I rise. Honestly, somtimes I’m immense! I’m sorry I’ve got to say that but if I don’t say that it goes unspoken. And we wouldn’t want my immenseness to go unrecognised would we? Would we?

Now, Josias is a lovely guy but he just can’t deliver. Oh yes, I know we’ve all worked with these type. As a manager would say ‘he’s not task orientated’. Of course, the other side of that Myers Briggs coin is empathy. Well I can tell you Josias was not empathetic either because he was driving me fu**ing mad!

Friday went. Saturday came and went. Sunday came.

Promise me this. I promise you that. Guarantee this, guarantee that. On and on, text after text. I just think he never sat down and worked for any length of time on the issue.

All our conversation was in Spanish. Hundreds of texts. Believe me if you’re not delivering I’m on your case. Oh, I was persistent.

By Sunday afternoon I was a bit of an expert on my motorbike clutch. I studied the manual and I watched countless videos. I honestly think I could have done the job myself.

Josias had difficulty working in the evening because granny’s leccy had been cut off so he worked by torchlight. Not that I think a lot of work was getting done.

Things were getting tense on Sunday evening. I wanted the bike that day. I was promised the bike that day.

It was about the fifth broken deadline and I went to sleep that night at midnight after failing to get Josias to deliver.

We agreed I would get the bike in the morning and Susan and I would travel onwards that day.

Josias said I was definitely getting the bike in the morning and I could pick it up at 4am if I wanted. You’ve got to laugh!

Next morning at 6am I’m on his case.

By 8am I was in a taxi to granny’s whilst Susan tucked into her nice breakfast of pancakes, syrup and fresh fruit. I know you always like to know what Susan is doing and we don’t want the blog to be all about me, me, me.

So Susan is having pancakes and I’m in a taxi to I don’t know what.

When I get to granny’s, Josias is still finishing up working on the bike. Why couldn’t this have been done before I arrived? No reason – that’s just how he is.

I didn’t take the cash to Josias to pay him. I’m not travelling to backstreet Managua with cash. I tell him he has to come to our hostel and Susan will pay. Susan looks after our dosh.

Josias jumps on the back of the bike and I test ride it to the hostel. When we get there I’m sunk. I’m finished.

The clutch is slipping!

Nightmare in Nicaragua 4 is unfolding.

And it’s perhaps the scariest yet!

Nightmare In Nicaragua

So there I am sitting on the bike on a fast carraigeway dealing with my emotions. That sinking feeling when I realised the bike was finished going forward. The despair knowing I wouldn’t find a garage in Managua that could undertake the repair. The hopelessness of not knowing what to do next.

Well, I soon snapped out of that! It was obvious what I had to do next – I had to get off this bloody road before someone rammed me up the backside!

I recalled we had passed a gas station at the roundabout. The only way to get there was reverse. For non motorbike people I will highlight that the bike doesn’t have a reverse gear. Nevertheless, gravity was on my side. Still, it’s not the best manoeuvre to reverse down a three lane ‘dual carraigeway’. You know what I mean – I’m sure there’s a technical term for it.

So with Susan as my back marker waving at motorists to stay out the inside lane, I slowly rolled back.

There’s Susan walking behind. As you can see the camera caught her not waving. I suspect she’s busy thinking about how much of my pension she gets if I don’t make it!

Time and time again someone would come right up behind me. Driving behaviour in this part of the world is abysmal. There was a lot of shouting, mainly from a guy in a nice helmet.

Slowly, so slowly, I reversed into the gas station car park, picked my spot and parked the bike. I was physically and emotionally drained.

I had to get a grip – it was now a matter of priorities!

Yes, you’ve guessed it – the bottom has just fallen out of our travelling world and the first priority is to get Susan out of this bloody heat!

So into the air conditioned cafe we go. I get Susan out of her hat, jacket and BOom BBOom vest, sit her at a table and buy a large bottle of cold water.

Right that’s the priorities sorted – so let’s see about the bike.

Now, let’s rewind 3 hours to my cock a doodle do, rice and beans breakfast.

In between the cocks and the doodles, I managed to recount our bike issues to out lovely host. She recommended a friend, a motorcycle mechanic in Managua who used to work for Triumph.

I politely listened and said everything would be fine and when she showed me a 3 year out of date Facebook profile I took a photo to be nice.

Standing in the cafe, as I contemplated what to do, I received a phone message from this lady – ‘may our Creator be with you and guide you safely to your destination’

I then remembered that Facebook entry, I remembered his name – ‘Josias’.

Now sit down when I tell you this next bit. Do you know the name ‘Josias’ is of Hebrew origin and means ‘God supports and heals, God helps’!

Wow! Here I was standing in an air conditioned cafe having a bit of a biblical moment.

It was a sign and so I tried phoning the number on Josias’ three year old Facebook entry but something was wrong. Wrong code, wrong something.

I needed a local who could help. A wise man. Well there were about 30 people in that air conditioned garage cafe and not one of them could help. Nobody could speak English and as I didn’t want a beer at this time, my useful Spanish phrases were exhausted.

So I brought out my old friend Mr Google Translate and suddenly I was like Captain Kirk who could talk to the Klingons.

One young lad showed an incling of helpfulness and I pounced on this. With his help, we phoned Josias again with a change of local code. No luck, the number appeared cut off.

Three year old Facebook. Cut off phone number. What’s next?

Well Josias had a three year old address on Facebook. I checked it on Google Maps. There’s no listing for a garage. No listing for anything.

Give up?

Of course I didn’t. I’ve got the ‘Creator’ leading me to Josias. I know I have. Nobody said the path to salvation was easy. I’ve got to find my way and not give up.

Next step? Oh yes, a quick check on my priority lets me know all is well. Susan is fine and working out the latest conundrum on her phone puzzle game. She’s looking relaxed and cool.

I spoke to the young lad and asked about getting a taxi. I showed him the addesss and he said he would take me. It wasn’t an area of town for a an old gringo to venture into alone. Just as well as I didn’t even have any local currency for a taxi. Someone’s looking out for me!

Within 5 minutes we were in his small, beat up car with no air con. I was still in half motorcycle gear, roasting and toasting.

Another 10 minutes we were sitting outside an optician waiting on his wife and mother in law. Apparently we had a pick up first.

Another 20 minutes and we’re still waiting outside the optician.

I texted Susan an update in case she was worried. She wasn’t. Somehow, just somehow, she manages to remain cool and collected in these stressful situations.

Meanwhile, back in the car like an oven, I multitask and search for accomodation in this city. I knew we were going nowhere at least for a few days.

I found a hostel with parking (not an easy thing to do) within 0.5 miles of where the broken bike was. I reasoned I could push it there if necessary.

So I booked two nights and texted Susan so she knew we had a plan for the night. She appreciated the reassurance. I just hope my message didn’t interrupt a crucial part of her puzzle on her phone.

Eventually, wife and mother in law appeared and we set off for my non existent garage. Mr Google Translate was our friend as we journeyed through the Managua backstreets.

We pulled into a small broken down road with broken down houses and nothing much else. We parked. The young lad looked at me. This was it. There was nothing here. I was nearly broken in broken down road.

But my heart can’t sink because it can’t sink any lower. Still, I could feel the energy flow out my body.

The young lad is about to turn the car around and head back. He’s given up. Is that it do we just give up?

Of course we bloody don’t! I’m on the road to salvation!

I’m about to get out the car and have a wander around when I see two guys sitting on small plastic stools outside a house a hundred metres down the road.

I stare at them. I recognise that guy. I pull out the three year old Facebook photo. It looks like him. I show it to the young lad. He shrugs. He’s unconvinced.

I get out the car and walk up to them.

‘Josias?’ I ask

‘Si’ he replies.

Hallelujah!