First Hours on Isla Grande del Maíz

From the window of the plane I could see the blue waves of the water come closer into view. Then streaks of turquoise, followed by a thin stretch of white beach, a thick stand of palms, then the corrugated roofs of the shacks. After that it was a blur of greenery and bright colors until the wheels of the aircraft touched the ground and jolted us in our seats.

The ATR 42-300 twin-propeller plane reached the end of the runway and circled around to a small rectangular building called the airport. We came down the air stairs to the tarmac and into the little building where we waited for workers to bring our luggage.

Outside the building a man in a white shirt and pot belly came asking if we needed a taxi. I couldn't tell if he was speaking Spanish or English, but could understand the gist of his question. “One dollar a person,” he added, but he had to repeat it twice.

We walked to his old beater, a car that looked like a Volkswagen Rabbit with a large crack across the windshield. Our two carry-on bags barely fit inside the trunk.

Jenelle and I sat in the back seat, but were surprised when he picked up two girls on the short drive to our lodging. They were in their early teens and of a beautiful Afro-Caribbean complexion. One sat in the front and the other in the back seat next to me. The three of us barely fit. He dropped them off at the beach. “I have to take any opportunity I can,” he said, shrugging his shoulders as if he had to justify.

I won't bore the reader with the details of our hotel, but sufficeth to say, our cabana was close to the beach and looked like a thatched hut.

By this time I was very surprised at what I had seen. Nearly everyone was of African descent and they were everywhere playing in the streets, walking the streets, and at their homes which were little more than patched-up boards.

We walked along a narrow paved road that ran along a slender beach. Palm trees grew along the side and groups of boys played together in the water. Up ahead we could see a congregation of boats at the port.

Everyone was friendly. A young man came up alongside us, smoking a cigarette. The left pant leg of his blue jeans was pulled up to his calf. “How are you?” he asked.

He went on to point at what looked like stacks of wooden pallets on one of the boats and explained they were cages to trap lobsters. That's where he worked, but now he was on his way to meet his wife.

As we continued we passed several living quarters. With the exception of two nice houses the rest were very modest or simply shacks. Some stood on stilts. Others had chickens running around. Most, I would say, had someone in the the front sitting on a chair enjoying the breeze. I expected to hear a strumming banjo.

We passed a small white building with an ATM machine on the inside. This was the island bank. I would need to use it later.

Nearby a small footpath led through a fence and across the airport runway. This was the shortcut to the other side of the island.

Across from the port we found a little nook that sold food. We sat down at a table and a lady asked if we wanted something to drink. She brought a Coke and water, then we waited. A hot charcoal grill on the other side of the open-faced room sent smoke rising into the air. The lady used tongs to place marinated chicken on the grill. We thought she would return with a menu, but never did.

Meanwhile, a stray mutt came and sat right beside my chair. A skinny homeless man with filthy dreadlocks and swarthy skin sat on the steps in front of us. He, like the dog, was hoping for a crumb of food.

I finally went to the lady and asked if there was a menu. “No,” she said. “It is a buffet and it is 280 córdobas a plate.” She pointed to trays of food enclosed inside a glass casing.

We were hungry and began to pile food onto our plates. I didn't know the name of anything except the white rice with red beans, known locally as gallo pinto. I piled on pasta, two drumsticks, fish and a chicken breast.

By now the flies had found us. The warm food layered with the hot and humid summer weather left our skin with beads of sweat. The homeless man twice made eye contact with Jenelle.

On our way back to the room we enjoyed the now cooling summer evening. Heavy storm clouds billowed in the west. All the grass and trees were green. A subtle breeze enhanced the ambiance of the evening.

At the room we changed into our swimming suits and walked a few minutes to the beach. A stray dog followed us.

The white sand beneath our feet felt fluffy. We waded into the warm water where we bobbed and talked for the next half hour. The sky gradually darkened as distant street lamps now bore illumination.

All was quiet except our talk and the incoming baby waves that pushed us around. Twice I saw bolts of lightning far to the west. This was an omen of adventure to come.

All was well in that moment on a far-flung island that no one's ever heard of. This was just the beginning. Jenelle and I had five more days in this paradise. ♠