The group looked incredibly large from the start. Definitely too large for one van. When all of us started to arrive at Pittsburgh International on Thursday morning, I placed Mom in charge of getting the group photo.
Afterward, as I picked up my bags to go, she wondered how we were all going to make it around down there. “You aren’t all going to driving around in the same van, are you?” The van she was referring to was the one provided to us by our sister university, UPOLI...
It's a large van, but the amount of personal space quickly shrinks when a dozen people pile in with their belongings. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing, though. Because a large portion of our time in Nicaragua is spent in transit, and smelling like we haven’t bathed in days, it's no surprise that some of the most memorable moments of the trip occur within that white van.
But at any rate, Mom was right – this group was never going to fit in that one van. “I guess Doc got us a bigger vehicle,” I shrugged. “Like a school bus maybe.”
Well, it wasn’t quite a school bus, but the van that greeted us at the Managua aeropuerto later that night was definitely an upgrade. In fact, it wasn’t really a van at all. It was this magnificent machine…
At first, I rubbed my eyes, convinced it was too good to be true. Was this for real? Could we really have a vehicle like this for our entire trip? Was it really the end of numb legs and endless commutes, inefficient AC and nonexistent personal space?
It was indeed. MegaBus had arrived to save the day.
After spending several hours in it already, I can tell you with confidence that MegaBus has it all. Comfortable seating. Giant windows. Ice cold AC. Even in the back row, I can still extend my legs. We may not see the same level of crammed-in character building as in previous groups, but I certainly won’t be complaining about that. I got plenty of that on my first three trips.
It doesn’t take long for everyone to settle into their particular spot amidst the rows of MegaBus. I’ve always been partial to the back row, and that’s where I end up sleeping through most of our first rides through the city.
My seatmates are so kind to document this event for me.
By midafternoon on Friday, we are settling in for our 3-hour trek into the mountains. Our destination is the El Quetzal coffee farm, where we will be spending the weekend putting on a health fair for the laborers of the farm, people who receive very little medical care. We're bound for the Madalgalpa region, where it isn’t the best idea to be driving through the countryside past sundown. Dr. Ross wanted us to be up to the plantation by nightfall. But true to Nicaragua form, we are nearly two hours behind schedule by the time we leave our hotel.
There are plenty of interesting sights to see from our seats on MegaBus. I had to chuckle catching this stern-looking fellow standing guard over some important person's car.
When I get home, I wonder if there would be any red tape involved in hiring an armed guard for my Mazda.
Once outside the outskirts of Managua, the road opens up into long stretches of wilderness. The random scenes along the way float by in blurs, adding layer after layer of cultural mystique to the journey north. There’s a lone tombstone, decayed, listing to one side under the widespread limbs of a gnarled tree. A horse stands amidst a field of thick brush, seemingly left stray by its owner in the dying light. The sunset on the horizon takes shape with every passing mile. It’s one of the grandest I’ve ever seen in this country, much like that “caramel-colored” one Gary Allan describes in that song about chasing airplanes.
We are a van full of eager spirits, anxious to find out what awaits us up in those mountains. There is that sense of significance, that feeling that keeps you glued to your window, convinced the road you’re on will be one you’ll always remember riding.
The sun finally slips below the hills. The darkness is complete now, with no light left but the occasional flicker of grass fires that smolder along the road. Our MegaBus climbs onward and upward, carrying us higher into the foothills, toward the shrouded mountain peaks and shaded coffee fields of the Madalgalpa.
