It was a very relaxing lifestyle on Little Corn Island. I had my bungalow, my kitchen, my hammock, my books, my Spanish materials, and of course my own, almost private, section of beach! My only real human contact was Alberto and his girlfriend, who were always upstairs in Da Beeg Howse (as it’s pronounced) and I suppose whatever shopkeeper I bought some groceries from, that was it. So with Covid raging on, that was a perfectly agreeable to set up. Days just kind of blended into weeks.
Although eventually one afternoon my tranquility was interrupted when a very old couple showed up with a younger man, the couple looked late 70’s (maybe??) and the guy looked to be around 50. I assumed he was their son. They were French and OF COURSE they spoke no English, or pretended not to. They knew Spanish though. We had a friendly co-existence at first, but it started to fray as they continued to take over the kitchen, leaving messes around the sink, and using my sugar, coffee, and milk at their leisure. Meanwhile complaining to Alberto about me, because I was cooking with meat! Hahaha these people! I guess they were vegetarians. Shrug. I was actually eating mostly vegetarian, as getting and storing meat on the island isn’t the easiest (with the power going out every day from 6am-11am you really have to freeze it), but I’d still have fish or chicken or spam occasionally.
These fish are everywhere. Cost about a dollar!
So for the most part I ignored these new people. Apparently the younger guy was not their son, they were all just traveling together. What solo traveler pairs up with a super old couple?! Seemed really weird to me. But the old couple looked to be spry and in good health, and the man would carry around his wicker basket and go poking around in the jungle for random plants that were supposedly edible. Sometimes he’d show me some flowers and stalks and stuff that I should try. Ehhh, ok!
One morning I woke up to some screaming and yelling in French, but eventually went back to sleep. I found out from Alberto that the old man thought something happened with the younger guy and his wife and he was threatening him with his machete. Pretty wild! I mean the woman is in her 70’s! Anyway the younger guy packed up and disappeared that afternoon, and then a few days later the old couple left as well. Good riddance!
Not long after that, Chris, the Canadian guy who co-owned the property with his Nicaraguan wife came back. Which was good because even though I got along with Alberto, I’m pretty sure he stole some of my money. Plus we had more in common to talk about. I remember that first night well, because that’s when something happened with my molar, it was like a bomb went off in there. After ate dinner I was getting these shooting pangs of pure pain radiating throughout my whole mouth. I ended up having to wake him up at 11pm or so to see if he had any pain meds laying around, but no luck. I didn’t know what to do, so I walked into town. Everything was closed. I was very close to knocking on a random door! Two guys in their early 20’s walked by and asked if I needed anything (implying drugs) They ended up taking me down a new path to a hole in the wall local bar. The bar tender let me buy a bottle to go, it was like clear licorice flavored stuff, maybe 25% alcohol, pretty disgusting, but man was I glad to have it! I managed to get myself through the night and off to the ‘pharmacy’ the next morning.
The pharmacy on little corn island was a guesthouse that had a side room full of medicine. So I took the highest dosage of Ibuprofen I could get. The timing was also horrible, as it was Saturday of Easter weekend, so I’d have to wait for Monday to actually see a dentist. It was not a good weekend. Monday morning rolled around and I took the boat over to Big Corn and off to the dentist. He asked me which dentist and I didn’t know, so the taxi took me to someone’s house. David the Dentist was not home, but they pulled out a chair for me to wait until he got back.
Maybe 30 minutes later he arrived and showed me to a wooden sidehouse, with a musty smell and concrete floors, where an old brown dentist chair sat. This was not what I was expecting! I sat in the chair and he shot me up with the anesthetic. There was a machine next to the chair that he turned on that connected to his drill, it looked like it was from the 70’s and it vibrated violently, ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba. Lovely stuff. The molar was one where I already had a cavity, so he took off the cap did some poking and drilling around and eventually filled it with a soft cap. And this was supposed to do the trick. Or not. The pain was back that night.
Two days later I went back to Big Corn to see the other dentist on the island. She was younger, kinda cute, and a much nicer office, you know: clean, white, professional looking. I felt much better here. She took a look at dentist Daniel’s work and she thought that he might have hit a nerve. Even though I had the anesthetic some spots she touched was just soul searing, unadulterated pain. She’s apologizing profusely. She said I would need a root canal, but wanted to put me on some antibiotics first. Ugh. Now I had to wait another week. Keep in mind I am just absolutely pounding these high strength Ibuprofens and Tylenols at this point. Like every few hours. And even then, they take a good 45 minutes to really kick in, so if I waited just a little too long I would be in excruciating pain for a good half hour.
After the week was up, it was back to the dentist. I don’t know what she was expecting the antibiotics to do, but they didn’t do NADA. She shoots me up with anesthetics and gets the drill going. I jerk back. I can still feel it. She shoots me again. Tries to drill. AGHGGHGH! Nope, still feel it. Shoots me up another time. Nothing is working. I thought this might happen. At this point all I want is for the pain to end, it’d been a week and a half of this BS. We agreed to pull the tooth. Apparently numbing the gum for extraction is much easier than numbing inside the tooth itself. She finagled around with her tooth pliers and soon the whole thing was wrestled out. Thank you Lord Jesus Christ Almighty! So that was the initial phase of the tooth saga! She told me it would be about two months to heal up completely before I could get a dental implant. Great!
Back on little corn, Chris had now brought his whole adoptive family, consisting of his wife, her teenagers, the stereotypical extra largie auntie, some brothers, more little kids. There were now at least ten people all hanging around the grounds. So on one hand they were friendly, but on the other hand it was kind of weird dynamic where they were family, doing family stuff, and I was kind of the outsider just kinda hanging around the edges. I never actually ate with them, but they’d sometimes offer leftovers or what have you, so that was okay!
A few more weeks had passed, same old same old. At this point, younger people were easing up on lockdowns, two of the local bars re-opened, and I did start to actually meet some more of the people who were hanging around closer to the central part of the island. I was apparently taking covid more seriously than most, ha. And covid cases were definitely here and there around the islands, mostly Big Corn though. There was an outbreak in Bluefields, where most of the islanders came from originally, coming over by ferry. There was also talk of stopping the flights, as cases were going up in Managua as well.
So with rainy season looming, and flights possibly in question, I decided to head over to the Pacific side of Nicaragua, where there’s more people around, better infrastructure, good wifi, and better dental clinics! Flying home commercially still wasn’t an option, so looks like even more time in beautiful Nicaragua!