Trouble in Nicaragua?

Surfing in Nicaragua is an "on again-off again" proposition. Why? During the war years (1980-1990), a handful of surfers enjoyed empty, hard to access beaches. While under siege, Nicaraguans did not consider surfers to be the enemy, and though cautious, were generally helpful, trustworthy and friendly. The end of the civil war brought both sides back in a shaky peace, and there were hopes of normalcy and economic development. But the underlying conflicts proved difficult to resolve and Nicaragua is still struggling, counting on tourism to pull it out of the worst economic crisis in its history.

Unfortunately, the nascent Nicaraguan tourist industry is tenuous at best; there aren't any enticing airline-hotel-rental car packages, the food does not cater to foreign palates, and the service could kindly be described as "inexperienced." Because of the lack of infrastructure, small complications can end up causing major upsets because there are no back-up or contingency services. For example, when the electricity goes off (as it does frequently in the rainy season) everyone simply stops whatever work they are doing and waits for it to come on again. Meanwhile, the gasoline stations shut down, the bathrooms dry up and the beer gets warm. Nicaraguans can't understand why foreigners get so upset about not being able to shower, flush the toilet, or drive to the closest break before the tide changes.

Second, unlike Mexico, El Salvador and Costa Rica, Nicaragua does not have a coast road. Therefore, the majority of breaks (some of the best) can only be reached by boat. The Nicaraguan government is looking to finance a coast highway and this news has led to a run on coastal real estate. But because the country has yet to sort out titles after the land reforms of the 1980's and the counter reforms of the 1990's the new land rush has led to conflicts, sometimes violent, between new (rich) owners and longtime inhabitants, usually poor farmers and fisher-folk. There are armed guards blocking access to some beaches (e.g. Manzanillo and it's classic left), and there have been reports of the National police stopping surfers, searching board bags for guns and generally hassling anyone trying to get to the beach.

Finally, surfing as a national sport took off in the early 90's when self-exiled Nicaraguans in Miami came home after the Sandinistas fall from power. Young, affluent Nicaraguans brought their surfboards, which over time have ended up in the hands of beach locals, who are getting pretty good. For the most part, they are friendly, and eager to learn new moves and share information about breaks. However, perhaps a result of the trauma of twenty years of civil war, there is an unpredictably violent fringe intent on ripping you off and sending you home.

No coast road. Not even one with ruts.

In a nutshell, Nicaragua isn't easy, and the adventurous, unschooled pioneer might end up looking down the business end of a pump shotgun on the side of a back road, or be faced with a club wielding, nationalistic local surfer while his friends look away. When Nicaragua works, it's good stoke and a great cultural experience. When it doesn't you can be stuck with plenty of down time waiting for your boards, losing your reservations, lining up transport, searching for spots, getting skunked, and hassling with locals or guards.

As someone who has lived and surfed here since 1984: For the inexperienced Central American traveler, or for those with a limited amount of time, this might be one of these "off again" times where a "wait and see" attitude would be prudent.

Eric Holt-Gimenez
July 14, 2000
San Juan del Sur, Rivas, Nicaragua