Travels in Nicaragua - Saucy San Juan Del Sur

On our way out in the morning, we stop to talk to the guy at the front desk who advises us to get off the bus at the main highway, flag down the bus to Liberia, transfer to the Puerto Blanco bus, walk across the boarder and then attempt to find two other people to share a cab straight to San Juan del Sur.  Simple enough.

At the station we're approached by a twosome.
"Excuse me, were you guys staying at Pension?" the girl asks in an accent I can't quite place.
Turns out they had the same conversation with the guy at the front desk mere minutes after we did and were told they should try to find us.
Shaz is Kiwi, Jose is Spanish and we join forces with a few other travellers: Michele, Kristy and Vlad and begin our bus journey to the boarder.

I'd heard that this particular boarder crossing could get chaotic, but things go fairly smoothly (other than having to present our passports to about 10 different people) that is UNTIL we get to the baggage scanners.
They begin questioning Jose about one of his bags and pull him aside to begin an intense discussion in Spanish.  It seems to be regarding his drone, namely, that he cannot bring it into the country.  The guy questioning him tells Jose he can have his drone if he directly pays the guy $75.  Jose begrudgingly agrees.  Then suddenly the story changes: $75 and the guy will bring the drone to his house and keep it safe there.  Riiiiight.  Eventually Jose talks to a (hopefully) more credible employee who has him fill out some paperwork and tells him they will hold his drone for pick-up within 20 days, effectively messing up his travel plans and leaving him less than optimistic about ever seeing his drone again. (Side note: he did eventually get it back.)
Nevertheless, he uses his Spanish soap-star charm and talks our cab driver down to $5 a person for an hour drive to San Juan Del Sur.

We arrive in the happening little surf town and after promising to meet up for a well needed beer, we head to our hostel and Shaz and Jose head off to check out theirs.

Upon entering Javier's House our faces literally drop.  It's dark and depressing, the only furniture in their 'common area' is literally rows and rows of uncomfortable wooden rocking chairs (why so many goddamn rocking chairs?)  The 'kitchen area' is small and looks inaccessible as it is currently being utilized as the check-in desk.  There are tons of rules posted everywhere and it is apparent that Javier's entire extended family is living in the hostel as well.

A man approaches us angrily asks us what we want in Spanish and I meekly say, "Tengo un reservation por Francesca..."
He screams for a girl (his daughter I guess) who emerges from another room, looks at us and lets out an audible disgruntled sigh.  We struggle in Spanish for several minutes to ask about the cancelation policy and finally she asks, "Would you prefer is I speak in English?"  That was an option this entire time?
She tells us we can pay on a daily basis but won't receive our deposit back from Hostel World.  She shows us to the room: it's small and dark with crowded bunks with thin, cartoon character adorned sheets... they look terribly uncomfortable.  We can't help but notice several mattresses cooking on the tin roof and when we examine our beds, a bed bug runs along the side of our mattress, hardly trying to hide itself.  The tiny bathroom is full of mould, the upstairs smoking area is full of more rocking chairs and I kid you not, we are the only two people staying there.  We don't even want to put our bags down on the ground.
At that moment, the sky clouded over and our moods plummeted to an all-time low.
"It's okay, we can still salvage this," we rationalize.  "Let's hit the streets and find somewhere else to stay."
We wander around aimlessly, but are having trouble differentiating between good and bad hostels, they all look the same.  We see a poster for Casa Oro, the hostel recommended to us by the amazing staff at Pension in Monteverde.
We enter the lobby and are greeted by a huge open lobby, a cafe, modern decor and a giant tree growing past the winding stairs and up into the rooftop balcony.  The price is virtually the same as Javier's.  We ask to see a room and they tell us to go ahead upstairs and check it out.
We peer into the first dorm (which is gorgeous with its canopy bunkbeds with colourful curtains for added privacy and a private balcony) and who do we see?  Shaz and Jose!
"Are you guys staying here?" we ask.  They tell us that the place they looked at was awful and we all laugh at our similar experiences.  There are two bunks left in the room, so we sprint down to reception and beg for them to be held for us and rush down the street practically giddy with glee.
We expect a bit of a fight when we gather up our things and tell the girl we want to leave.
"Okay," she says, unfazed and she cuts off our wrist bands.  I get the impression she's seen many people flee this establishment in a similar manner.  We drop our things and hurry off with Shaz and Jose for a much needed cerveza or two.

Yowza!

We're seaside, enjoying the sunset and enjoying the two for one margaritas when Shaz recognizes a girl from our hostel and insists she joins us.  Her name is Maelle and she's from Montreal.  We stroll the beach, stroll the streets, pick up some beers and head back to the hostel where we're abruptly told we can't drink them on the premises, we can't even store them on the property, so we go for a walk and try to figure out our next move.
People seem to be drinking openly in the streets so Maelle asks a local lady who tells us as long as we don't gather on street corners in big groups or drink in the parks, then it's fine.  Great news!  We drink a couple and hide the rest in our back packs and purses.
We get back to the room and meet our other roomies: a Canadian named Andrew and an American named Lauren.  They're drinking contraband beers and tell us as long as we're discreet it's not a big deal.  They're both participating in a bar crawl starting at the Canadian bar entitled: The Loose Moose (I couldn't make this up if I tried.)
At first we hesitate, but then realize that we
a) haven't partied yet on this trip
b) are with a cool crew
and c) have no where to be in the morning.
We have an unreal time and even run into Gary and Reed, the Albertans we met in Costa Rica.

I wake up with a splitting headache and manage to drag my ass out of bed before eventually heading downstairs to catch the shuttle to Playa Madura.
The shuttle is packed so the driver says five people have to go in another vehicle.  There are five of us so we happily volunteer and turn the SUV into a massive sing-along, much to the chagrin of our driver.
We stop and pick up even more Canadians, Kevin and Maddy, who are actually from Nanaimo!  Small world.  We all spend the day swimming, lounging and attempting to surf.

The next day it's Maelle's birthday so we figure we should do something special for the day.  We want to rent dirt bikes, but Mike and Jose are the only ones comfortable driving and there are five of us.  Neither of the girls is comfortable driving a scooter so I bite the bullet and volunteer to drive it while they double on the bikes.  I'm a bit nervous at first since I haven't been on a scooter since Bali, but I quickly get the hang of it and we speed off towards Playa Yankee.

All goes well until the flat paved road becomes loose gravel and rolling hills.  My scooter is definitely not equipped to handle these massive stones and steep hills and I slow down, fearful of falling, but wrongly assume we are almost at our destination.
I eventually take a spill and the scooter lands on top of me.  Maelle jumps off the back of Mike's bike and comes running to help.  In her rush to help me lift the scooter, she hits the accelerator and the wheel starts spinning in her direction before flying off out of control.  We surround her and see that she's hurt; what appears to be a massive burn blister is forming on her shin.
We head back to town to the pharmacy and pick up ointment and bandages to attend to her wound.  We all feel awful that she just got maimed on her birthday, but she just laughs and tells us, "It's nice!  I'll just drink lots of tequila tonight and it will kill all the germs."  What a trooper.

Birthday crew

Everyone wants to head back out, but all the beaches we want to visit involve crossing similarly sketchy roads.  Feeling a little sick and a lot shaky from my spill, I tell them to go on without me and I get to work trying to clean and fix my severely damaged rental scooter.  At the end of the day everyone gets back and the time has come to return our vehicles.  I am terrified of the huge bill I'll inevitably be slapped with once they see how fucked up my is.
I sheepishly roll in and they begin inspecting the bike, so I start making small talk and joking around in an attempt to distract them.  It's the end of the day and the guys are obviously eager to close shop, because they barely give it a once over before one guy turns to me, grins and says, "Looks perfect!"  Perfect?!  I grab my credit card and literally speed walk away, feeling as if I just got away with murder.

That night we hit the bar with a few other people to celebrate Maelle's birthday.  We're not sure where to go so a bunch of us are standing on the street, trying to formulate a plan when and older American man approaches us and insists we check out his friends bar.  He says it is the most happening spot in town at this time of night and that the bar crawls all end there.  We thank him for his advise and say we'll maybe check it out, but he refuses to leave unless we accompany.  Normally I appreciate tips, but this guy was insistent to the point of rudeness.  Reluctantly, we follow him for what feels like forever and he leads us into a bar with literally three other people in it, none of whom are dancing and a DJ who appears to be in her 60s (not discriminating, just trying to paint a picture.)
"Oh man!  I guess there's no bar crawl tonight, sorry guys."
We're all thoroughly annoyed so we do a couple shots of tequila, despite the fact this lying shyster just succeeded in getting us to spend money at his friends bar.

We decide we should check out Naked Tiger as it's meant to be SJDS's ultimate party hostel and bar, surely something's going on.
We all managed to cram into a cab and head all the way up there only to find out they're closing the bar early cause it's a quiet night.  Luckily we're told we can jump onto their shuttle and go party at PachaMama with them.  It's a fun atmosphere and we have a wicked night.

The next day we hear rumours that the surf shop down the street is having a massive sale, so Lindsay and I go to check it out.  They're giving out free rum punch and the bikinis are $5!  I desperately need a bathing suit and despite the fact these suits are clearly made for women with no breasts or curves, I manage to find a larger size that gives me some sort of coverage.
I run into Reed who tells me that they had their van broken into while parked outside the hostel and that all of Gary's clothing got stolen.  They're not letting it affect their plans and are headed to Ometepe in the next couple and invite us to join them.

The following day I have a bad cold, so we spend our last day in SJDS chilling at the beach and hiking up to the Christ of Mercy statue to glimpse the 360 views of the area.