Jinotega, Nicaragua |
True to their heritage, the 50,000 plus
residents of Jinotega are easy going, hospitable, and eager to find a
connection with even the culturally clumsiest of gringos. Even
though the city is considered "rich" in comparison to the
rest of the impoverished country, the most affluent house in town
still leaves any middle class American feeling like a Trump heir.
(According to The World Factbook, in 2011 the GDP per capita in
Nicaragua was $3,200. In the U.S., it was $41,000.) Needless to
say, poverty and heartache are as boundless in the area as the fruit
trees and humble smiles. My reason for travel to the large, but
rather remote city was to help lead a group of high schoolers on a
week-long mission trip.
I must confess it is an obsession of
mine everywhere I travel to imagine bike trails cut throughout the
landscape. (My grandparents have a sizable ranch in southern Texas
that makes me drool every time I visit.) It was no different on this
trip. Most days of the week included a substantial amount of driving
to our work sites. En route to the different towns or villages, I
couldn't help but lean my grimy face to the window of our battered
Isuzu or bus and pretend I saw (or was riding) glorious bike trails.
Apparently, I'm not the only visitor to
this off-camber region with a perpetually cyclical mindset. One
website I googled noted there are "hundreds of unmarked walking
trails" and advised "borrow a bike and ride the steep hills
for a little adventure" (world66.com). Nice thought, only one
problema. On all the bumpy roads we traveled throughout the week,
not once did I see a street shop with a sign out that advertised
"bikes for rent."
Sure, there were bikes galore on the
cobbled byways and elevated dirt roads. In fact, of the numerous
places I've been within Mexico and Peru, I have never seen near the
number of people on bikes as I did in Nicaragua. I'd be willing to
bet if you asked a kindhearted Nicaraguan, "puedo usar tu
bicicleta, por favor," he would probably lend you his only means
of transportation. (Especially if you asked him in Spanish.) Even
so, for all the Córdobas in Managua, I wouldn't take a borrowed
frame to the top of the closest northern Sierra and head down. No
offense to my southern neighbors, but my self-preservation instincts
wouldn't let me do it. Look closely at the bikes in the pictures and
you'll see why.
Bikes in this part of the world have a
different flavor to them. They are not seen as a means of exercise
or a piece of recreational equipment. They are simply used to get
from point A to point B. (Of the dozens and dozens of people I saw
on a bike, not a single one had a helmet, gloves, riding shorts or
clipless pedals. I feel stupid noting this.) It was not uncommon to
see bikes ferrying supplies to sell at an outdoor street stall, or
bikes toting one or even multiple locals down the street.
To my knowledge, there are no bike
trails in Jinotega. On one hand, my brief journey made me want to
return one day with a trail building crew and then get featured as an
"awesome destination for mountain biking" in a national
bike magazine. But on the other, I think I realized the
breathtaking, green hills surrounding Jinotega may for their lifetime
hold nothing more than grazing cattle and coffee beans. So to my
brothers and sisters in Nicaragua who will never read this, thank you
for the reminder of how immensely blessed I am to get to ride a bike.
Not because it is a necessity, but because it is a luxury.
No comments:
Post a Comment