Nicaragua: Mi Vieja Ranchito

Before Mi Vieja

After a long day at the Galleria Santo Domingo, Brent and I are in a new Honda CR-V as fellow judge Enrique Ferrurfino, and his former Miss Earth 2002 girlfriend Carla, are barreling us down the highway at alarmingly increasing speeds. At any moment now, I'm expecting us to either lift-off or some object to block our path crushing us into smithereens as mangled Honda parts and miscellaneous body parts are spewed across the highway and splashed onto the pages of La Prensa in the morning.


Enrique - probably on the phone with some Honey.

Unlike the open expanses of western American highways, our highway in Managua is a poorly lit, divided, two-lane highway and we're easily the fastest moving object on the road. Most are moving at a decent rate of speed, but there's more than a few vehicles that are pacing themselves at about 25mph, which may not seem too bad until your careening towards them in the right lane at 75mph and the gap between the vehicle to our left and the slow-moving vehicle in front of us is closing at Mach 2.75.


Aunt Rouki Wants You.

Most of our meals in Managua have been relatively close to the hotel. Tonight, we're on the open roadways of Nicaragua, a considerable distance from the center city, heading to Restaurante Mi Viejo Ranchito - one of Martha's favorite places for traditional Nicaraguan food.

Somewhere, in the darkness behind us, the rest of our team is ensconced in the Toyota Lite Ace minivan and Don Roberto's deliberate pace.


Brent and Cleofas decide to order.

The restaurant seems to be in the middle of nowhere. Indeed, it is an oasis in the dark blackness of the Nicaraguan countryside. And it's jam-packed. So packed that even the parking lot is full.

After a few minutes of waiting for the rest of the group and then some discussion, we're being herded into the restaurant to be seated at a table. Like many restaurants in Managua, Mi Viejo is an open-air restaurant. Large timbers form the frame and are covered with what looks like thatched roofing. A concrete structure houses the kitchen and other facilities but the dining area is open to the elements.


The House Salsa.


Quesillo

It's starting to seem that this is a popular way of dining and I'm finding it quite enjoyable - even though the heat and humidity is a bit stifling.

Soon, we're seating with the rest of our group: Roukiat, Cleofas, Alirio and Martha. It's a fun group of friends who I grow fond of seeing and spending time with as the years and coffee events bring us together and pass. Once drinks have been delivered, it's time to order.


Bandeja Tipica Ranchera - res, pollo, cerdo, salchicha, chicharron, frijoles molidos, indio viejo, queso, platano frita, yuca, papas fritas y ensalada.

Readers of this blog know that I really dislike ordering. It requires a bit too much thought and consideration. Just let me have the best. Bring it on. I can take it. I'm here to experience flavors. Happily, Martha has a combination dish in mind and Rouki is determined that everyone must try the Quesillo - a corn tortilla covered with a sheet of cheese, diced onions and crema.

The quesillo is okay. It's a bit bland and a bit flat but I notice Martha slathering her quesillo with some of the house salsa (a blend of vinegar, chopped onions and hot peppers) and do the same. On it's own, the quesillo is a bit disappointing. It's nice but the flavor is kinda flat. With the salsa, it comes alive. The zesty zing from the pepper-infused vinegar is perfect. The quesillo dances on the tongue.




In a few moments, our combo platters arrive. It's called Bandeja Tipica Ranchera - res, pollo, cerdo, salchicha, chicharron, frijoles molidos, indio viejo, queso, platano frito, yuco, paps fritas y ensalada.

While Mi Vieja Ranchito, with it's timber and thatch roofing and local musicians could pass for some sort of folkloric tourist trap, it is anything but. In fact, we are the only tourists in the joint. Everyone here is Nicaraguan and local. This is Nicaraguan food as real Nicaraguans make and eat it. Food that's not "Americanized" or "refined" or made into some sort of fine dining fusion. It's simple cookery as normal people would have it.


Digging into Rouki's favorite: Quesillo

And even though the notion of comida tipica conjures in the mind the best of local, handmade ingredients, this is just plain average food, which means that the industrial agriculture system that fuels America has also made it's way into Nicaragua in the form of frozen french fries, packets of Hunt's ketchup and sausage that has that processed mealiness to it - it's way too soft and mealy to be house made.

Which makes me wonder about the rest of the ingredients and how much of the industrial agriculture has penetrated the food supply here. Is the pork on these skewers from some farm in Matagalpa or a pig factory in Minnesota? I imagine the beef from some farm just a short drive from the capital, not a four hour flight to Kansas City. The appearance of just frozen french fries causes me to wonder how much the actual flavor of Nicaraguan food may have changed in twenty years and that what we taste today may not be the flavors that our friends (and those eating around us) grew up eating.


Fried Cheese

Whatever the case may be, I find the food to be pretty tasty. Like I said earlier, this isn't fancy or fussed over. Just plain, homestyle cookery. The platano chips are crisp, the yucca is boiled, broken and starchy bland (I prefer fried a la french fries with salt), lurking under it all are thick corn tortillas cooked by hand on a plancha.

Along with our meal comes a serving of the traditional fried cheese. Slices of queso fresco tossed into a deep fryer until golden brown. It's a great idea and all the examples I've tried on this trip have been salty, but these suckers are really

salty, but they're also pretty darn good.

Martha and Carla discuss the lower points of men.

The meal is a mish-mash of flavors and textures. It's vibrant and exciting. It's the kind of meal that I prefer: lots of flavors and not too much of anything to dull the palate. There's grilled beef, grilled pork, sausage, fried plantains, rice and beans, tortillas and french fries. It's my kind of eating.

But how is it? What does it taste like? Good. Some of it's good, some of it's great, some of it is just okay. This isn't food that's been teased and fussed over. This is food for the local folk. Simple food, simply prepared and for that it's fantastic. Of course, the fries suffer from the usual situation of being undercooked (I'm really thinking this is the way Nicaraguans prefer their fries), and the sausage tastes processed but the beauty of this meal is that this is how I envision real Nicaraguans eating. This is food without pretense and everyone is digging in.


With a beauty queen by his side, no wonder Enrique is always smiling.

One of the best things about this kind of eating is that it offers something for everyone. What you might like, she might hate. This means that everyone gets to eat well and to their tastes. I think it's a win-win situation. Of course, the drinks are flowing - which always seems to be a win-win situation for our crowd.

It's a warm and lightly humid evening out here in the middle of nowhere. The full moon provides a luminescent glow over the countryside. It's idealistic and romantic, and the girl sitting at the table opposite ours is beautiful. Dark brown hair, light skin, brown eyes - and surrounded by a table of twenty that seems to be her sister, her parents, her brothers and the in-laws of her sister. But she's not the only one. Running interference is the tequila girl, a stunningly built girl with ample curves in all the right places. She's tall, with rich, supple skin, lightly dyed hair and two bottles of tequila strapped to her waist.

My God, with curves like that I could easily be bled of all my money and blitzed drunk on tequila. Dirty fantasies fly through my mind. Thoughts of glistening skin in the moonlight divert my mind and it takes all of my willpower to resist her urges when she comes up to me asking if I would like a shot of tequila. No, gracias, I say while attempting to telepathically communicate my larcenous thoughts.

As our evening winds down, we spill out onto the street under the glow of moonlight. It's time to climb back in our vehicles for the ride back to Managua where our barista competition adventures begins once again in the morning.


Mi Vieja Ranchito
Km 17.5 Carretera Masaya
Ticuantepe, Nicaragua
505 279 2865

Nicaragua: This Show Is My Show

Brent commandeers the Cafe Sol y Agua booth.

One truth of competition is that, regardless of whether you're a judge, volunteer or competitor, you never have much time to see the attached trade show. In an effort to beat the odds, Brent decided that he would offer a guided tour of the trade show and commandeer several booths.


Brent considers SambaJuice.


Brent bailing out American Airlines.

Nicaragua: Campeonato Baristas 2008

The show gets underway.


It's the start of the barista championships here in Nicaragua and things are Situation: Normal.

Barista competitions typically have three stations with an espresso machine each. Today, we've got three stations and two La Marzocco Linea 2EE espresso machines. Where's the third one you ask? On the way, they tell us. Start time is supposed to be 10am and by 11:15am things are just starting to stir. Oh look, and here comes the third Linea!

By 11:35am the competition is off an running which, by all accounts, is relatively "on time." Both the Philippines and Hawaii have a flexible sense of time but Nicaragua gives flex time new meaning. You're just not socially adjusted if you're half an hour late. At 10am the first two competitors hadn't even arrived yet. It's gonna happen in Managua. It's just not going to happen in a New York Minute. Those obsessed with staying "on time" should stay at home.

Today there are eleven competitors and thirteen judges to fill two judging teams.

Wait a minute, you might say. Did he say "thirteen judges to fill two judging teams?"

Those of you familiar with the WBC style of barista competitions may have noted that it takes seven people to create a judging team (two technical, four sensory and a head judge). With our competition host busy in the first half of the day with official duties we're short one judge and I jump in to cover as a technical judge on both teams for most of the day.

Just judging at the normal pace can be stressful. Doing them back to back, with no rest in-between is a whole new challenge. At one point early on, I almost marked a competitor for something I had noticed on the flight before. But once I got into the groove, it just started to flow.

Overall, I thought the flow of the competition went by pretty quickly. Maybe it's because I was working constantly and didn't have time to notice anything else but before I knew it, I was moved into a sensory judge slot in one team for the final four competitors.


Dancing after competition.

The competitors themselves were young and inexperienced. They're a reflection of the age of the competition and I know this is how the USBC must have been like early on. Lots of whipped cream. Lots of ice cream. Lots of stemmed glassware. Lots of big drinks. Lots of sugary sweetness and commercial syrups. One competitor even busted out whipped cream in a can.

I'm guessing that many of the seasoned competitors might groan about this but even I can remember seeing lots of the same when I started competing in 2004. These competitors are just getting their sea legs and it's gonna take them a little while to catch up, but if Mexico is any indication, it won't be too long before Nicaragua produces a formidable champion to the WBC.

The competition continues tomorrow with the Finals on Sunday. You can watch all the action on the Live Videostream
from Managua.

Nicaragua: Hilton Le Bistro Garden Court

Alirio Lounges

Traveling the world gives one the opportunity to try foods different (and hopefully better) than one eats at home. Over the years, I've tried split roasted calf, ant eggs, worms and even aso. Here in Nicaragua, I'm interested in trying just about anything they're willing to put in front of me.

Of course, one of the difficulties of traveling and eating is that sometimes you just get tired from all the activity and maybe aren't feeling as adventurous as usual. Sometimes, instead of venturing into the dark wilderness seeking culinary adventure, you just want to stay home. And after a long day training judges, that ended up being the consensus amongst our group: let's stay in and eat at the hotel restaurant.


The heat of discussion.


Seafood Bisque

Okay, I won't pretend that I was excited about this. Hotels worldwide are notorious for offering food that's relatively the same and uniformly 'meh'. The sad fact of the matter is that there just isn't a lot of excitement coming out of hotel restaurant kitchens, and I prefer excitement. Especially when on the road and the window of opportunity for trying something different is narrow. I mean really, I can make tuna carpaccio at home.


Shrimp Salad

But I'm not here to bitch about it. I was disappointed, I'll admit. Disappointed that we weren't exploring some culinary underbelly of Managua, or at least those street vendors down by the casino across the street. Like I said previously, part of the enjoyment of travel is spending it with good friends and I could choose to venture off on my own or dine with my friends. Hell, most of my travel is alone, I can spend time with my friends...


Spring Roll

The food was nicely presented and was what you would expect from an international hotel chain: decent, competently prepared and presented but nothing spectacular.

I went with the Shrimp Salad that featured three shrimp set atop a mixed salad of sliced cheddar, papaya and mango. Squeeze that into a ring mold and you've got your salad. It was sweet, tart and not too bad.


Tuna Carpaccio

Cleofas and I ended up sharing an order of Spring Rolls and the Tuna Carpaccio. Again, the spring rolls were as expected: decent but nothing spectacular. The tuna looked good but, even though frozen, was definitely moving past its' prime as it tasted slightly fishy. In fact, it tasted fishy enough that I was worried that I would get ill because of it.

The highlight of our meal was our beverage. A mixed drink of Flor de Cana rum and citrus, kind of like a margarita without the heavy tartness. Whatever it was, it was good. Like drinking fruit juice, and I had more than three.


A toast to Nicaragua.


Hilton Princess Managua
Km 4.5 Carretera a Masaya
Managua, Nicaragua
505-270-5710

Nicaragua: Training Judges

Self portrait at the Hilton Princess.

Day Two in Managua starts off with the front desk missing my 7am wake up call. At least I think they missed it. The message light on the phone is flashing when they call at 7:38am. I'm a bit irritated since our meeting time downstairs is 8am.

After a quick shower I'm downstairs by 9:10am and the bus has departed. Crap. Jump into a cab and six bucks later I'm at the Galleria Santo Domingo mall - one of Managua's fancy malls for the rich and famous. It's early. Too early for a mall. The only people in the mall are a handful of baristas arriving to set up for the trade show and their practice times and about twenty mall employees whose task it is to clean and do general maintenance.


Rouki and Brent launch paper attack fighters from their loft.

The mall itself is a pseudo open-air design with vaulted steel pipe ceilings that's open to the environment without actually letting the environment in (too much). Essentially, it's an outdoor mall with a sort of sky dome that's non-retractable.

Our space is a large air conditioned space that may have been a department store once upon a time but for now, it's our home base and tomorrow will be converted into a trade show slash barista competition. Julio and his team have been hard at work getting everything in order and organized.


Judge Candidates taking their written examination.

First up is the continuation of the judges certification workshop. This is Day Two of judges training. Most judges here in Managua have little to no experience, some have no coffee experience at all, which makes developing judges qualified to judge the competitors a challenging proposition.

For them, it will be a day long affair of watching videos, taking a written examination and doing a practical judging test in addition to the sensory test they took yesterday. Many of the candidates have little to no coffee experience and it shows. The written test was difficult (as it should be) and some of them struggled with it. Whatever the case, our crew is optimistic about finding a set of judges ready to meet the challenge of choosing their national champion.


Cloefas Arreola - The One True Cafe Latino.


The La Marzocco Linea 2EE - perhaps the last competition to use this Grande Dame.

Meanwhile, we've been hearing rumors about how protests on the mayoral election are supposed to start at 4pm today. Considering the fact that the opposing sides have been courteous enough to schedule their conflicts, it seems downright civilized.


The Hippo at Hippo's.

Lunch time comes and we're off to Hippo's, an American style pub. It's got the usual selection of pub grub: fries, burgers, nachos, ribs and a whole lot more. I'm not one to complain and I'm certainly grateful to our hosts for their very generous hospitality and accommodations but I'm from the United States. I left there so I would have the opportunity to try something different. I really would prefer not to eat American food while getting away from America.


Our intrepid crew ready to eat.

That said, my rib and pork platter was decent enough. Smoked meat with barbecue sauce. Not too bad. It's hard to really screw it up but it's also hard to make amazing. This pork was neither. It was just okay. Stuck somewhere in the middle.

My BBQ platter - decent barbecue.


The under temperature and overcooked french fries with cheese and jalapenos.

The fries, on the other hand, were absolutely atrocious. Frozen shoestring fries that were overcooked in oil that was under temperature, causing the fries to soak up excess oil and become oil-logged, Then it cooked for a long time (since it wasn't hot enough to properly fry) until they turned golden brown. Of course, when fries in oil that's under temp reach a golden color they're basically obliterated and inedible. Drop a ramekin of processed nacho cheese sauce in the center and garnish with some sliced jalapenos and leave it under the heat lamp for ten minutes while you prep the rest of the order and you can imagine how those fries tasted.


A lonely La Marzocco FB80 2AV.

Back on the farm, it's time to put the candidates through mock presentations. I start off as the "barista" and present a performance riddled with all sorts of mistakes to see how many of them they can catch. From inconsistent dosing to improper use of towels to uneven tamping and distribution to improper use of milk and whatever else I could think of - including odd facts and misleading information, like coffee from Lithuania.


If one must submit to a judge, why not submit to Erika?

The candidates worked it and worked it. Up next is Violeta from El Coche Cafe, a passionate and interested barista who's just a little bit on the shy side. She's never trained for competition but would like to give it a try next year. She goes before the judges without prior prep or experience and even though she makes some mistakes, she does just fine. In many ways, I think it's better for judges to see mistakes that they can spot and correct than just the flawless performances in the 2007 WBC Finals videos.


It's 4pm and the Sandinistas have massed and shuttered the mall.

Outside, the masses are gathering beyond the gates of the mall. The Sandinistas have scheduled a protest/demonstration/riot. At least they had the courtesy of scheduling it and letting people know it would happen at 4pm. That way you could plan for it and avoid the area. Of course, we're on Ground Zero for the protests and should it get violent, we'll be caught in the crossfire.

As a precaution, the mall decides to shut down. All the stores close and the guards "encourage" everyone to leave and by 4:30pm the mall is deserted except for our judges and other personnel setting up the trade show. There's a window in our area and we can see the parking lot, the gates and the protesting beyond. Well-to-do Nicaraguans are fleeing the mall in their Range Rovers, Land Cruisers and Mercedes. Even the security guards look on edge.


It's only 6:30pm and the mall has been shut down.

Edgy armed guards, civilian riots, I'm just hoping that the walls of our building can withstand a hit from an RPG (rocket propelled grenade). In the back of my mind, I think that our perch can take small weapons fire but if the rioters storm the building, we could be in deep trouble.

Happily, the gates are closed and the protesters maintain calm. By 8pm, the whole thing is over and everyone will have gone home.



My barista station with a 2 group La Valentina and Mahlkonig K30 on top of a cupping table.

Judge candidate and 2008 Nicaraguan Barista Champion, Luis "Cappuccino" is chomping at the bit to give it a go and show off his style. I actually didn't get to see his presentation since I was working on something else but then it was my turn to go again and while I had been planning on doing a slow presentation that went way over time, Cleofas asked me to do one that's a bit more serious and a bit more representative of what he remembers of my previous USBC presentations.

There's some Stumptown Hairbender around here, so I grab that and load it into the Mahlkonig K30 we're using for practice. It's a decent enough on-demand doserless grinder that's maddeningly infuriating with its' propensity to throw excess coffee off the portafilter and irritating clumping. After using it all day, I find myself disliking it's propensity to just make a mess of itself.


Judge Candidates Juan Carlos, Enrique and Erika vie for spots in The Show.

I'd like to tell you in detail about the presentation, but I can't . Basically, I can't remember what I did. But I was trying to make it as good as possible. Deliberately paced, calm, smooth, relaxed, fun and with quite a bit of banter, and quite a lot of bullshit. Beautiful and carefully crafted, but still bullshit nonetheless.

Interspersed with a description of the coffees in Hairbender and anecdotes about my visits to those farms were thoughts on the state of the nation and a story on how I ventured into Managua to meet and interview the average coffee-drinking Nicaraguan to find out his and her flavor preferences and that the flavors in my signature drink would compliment their palates. That the lemon citrus in the Yirgacheffe would be augmented by just a kiss of pomegranate.

It was truly beautiful bullshit.



Judge Candidates ready for their sensory evaluation. Some will make it, others won't.

But it was also subversive in nature. The words I delivered weren't necessarily meant to convey my passion and knowledge about craft and coffee, but rather to test their judging skills and to see if my words would guide them into believing they were tasting something they might not be tasting. Could the words used help to subconsciously raise my scores?

In the end, there was some influence but not enough to overcome the experience and guidance of a head judge.

Our day ended with the naming of the 10 candidates who would now go on to judge the Nicaraguan Barista Championship in the morning.

Time for a shower and some dinner.

Nicaragua: Taska Kiko

The Entrance.

One of the benefits of writing a blog and allowing people to know about your quest for great food in the world is that, every once in a while, your friends will do their best to accommodate your desires. Knowing my desires, my friends decided to wait an extra day for me to arrive in Managua before going out to eat at Taska Kiko. I am forever grateful.

I've heard different stories about Managua. Some say it's dangerous. Others say it's the safest capital in Central America. Whatever the case may actually be, everyone seems to discourage my interest in visiting the casino. It's literally across the street.


Brent weighs in.

Maybe I could get shot. Or kidnapped. Perhaps besieged by angry Sandinistas. It's only across the street, I think to myself. I can make it.

Don't get me wrong, our hotel is on Carretera a. Masaya - one of Managua's busiest thoroughfares. There's people everywhere. Not to mention some street vendors selling food a block away. Let my people free!


Pouring Sangria.

In other cities, we would walk. Not here. Our movements are timed and shuttled in Don Roberto's HiAce minivan. For our dinner tonight, we pile back into the van and off we go. I'm expecting a bit of a ride even though they said the restaurant was close. Just a couple of short blocks from Carretera a. Masaya, in a residential neighborhood, and suddenly, we're there.

I would tell you it took five minutes to drive there but that would include the time it took for me to walk from my room, down the elevator, out the door, into the van, drive there and get out. Sixty seconds seems more like it.


Cleofas, Rouki, Alirio and Julio with the Owner of Taska Kiko.

Nestled between what look to be nice homes in the darkness of night is Taska Kiko, a Basque restaurant specializing in seafood. Like many restaurants in the capital, Taska features an open-air dining room with peaked thatched roofs held up by large wooden timbers. The feeling is breezy, warm and tropical. A perfect setting for seafood.

It's just after 9am and the dining room isn't too busy. Just a couple of other tables and our group of international judges: Cleofas Arreola from Mexico, Roukiat Delrue from Guatemala, Brent Fortune from Portland and Alirio Laguna from Colombia. We're being hosted by Julio Peralta and Martha Mendieta from the Associacion de Cafes Especiales de Nicaragua (ACEN for short).


Sauteed Shrimp

We settle in and the drinks start flowing with pitchers of sangria. There's talk of wine and more Nicaraguan rum, oh my. In my mind, I remember that moderation needs to be my key but the sangria is cold, tasty and my glass empties rapidly and refills equally as fast.

People ask me what I like most about traveling - this is it. Sitting around a table with promises of great food and adventure in a different country with friends old and new. The last time all of us were together we were freezing out butts off in Copenhagen insisting that we dine al fresco. I'm pleased that it's warm instead of cold.


Cheese


The Bread

Looking around our table, I reflect on how long I've known these friends. I've known Brent the longest since the NASCORE 2004 show in Portland. I met Cleofas that same year through the USBC. Rouki and I did the Ethiopian championships in Addis Ababa last year and Julio also froze his butt off in Copenhagen. My new acquaintances are Martha and Alirio, both of whom are becoming fast friends - even though Alirio's English skills are about the same as my Spanish.

A plate of bread lands on our table. It's beautiful. Hot and fresh baked, it's crusty on the outside and light spongy on the inside. I'm dreaming of salted butter.


Jamon Iberico

Suddenly, the sauteed shrimp arrive. Exquisite. The flavor is perfection. Buttery rich, one must suck the heads for full effect. Not to do so denies one the ultimate pleasure of the dish.

Next up is a plate of cheese and jamon iberico. The cheese is slightly sharp and flavorful, but it's the jamon that demands your attention. It's rich, dark, salty and fatty. The slices glisten with fat. It's also extremely gamey, which is slightly off-putting but it's the hallmark of the jamon iberico. Guess it has to so with it's diet of black acorns.


Grilled Beef and eggplant.

Sadly, Rouki has allergic reactions to seafood and is missing out. What a shame. But there's a dish of sliced grilled beef and eggplant to try. Simple. Salt, pepper, lime and onto the grill. Lovely. The flavor is bold and beefy.


Grilled Calamari

When the grilled calamari drizzled with olive oil arrives, I know I'm going to start facing serious resistance from my friends. It's damn good. Amazingly good. The texture of the calamari is just perfect. Chewy with the right amount of bite. I imagine forks stabbing into hands and knives arcing through the air, it's that good.


Alirio Laguna


Grilled spiny lobster with sweet potatoes.

The seafood continues with a plateful of spiny lobster. I don't think I've ever had spiny lobster before and dig in. I love lobster. The only problem with lobster is that there never seems to be enough. All that work hacking through the shell for that one chunk of tail meat.

For my dollar, I'm a big fan of the Maine lobster. It's meaty and thick. It's what I grew up eating and I have a predisposition to it's texture. Spiny lobster is lighter, flakier and more fluffy than Maine lobster - and there's less meat. The problem with the spiny lobster are the spines. They're quite sharp and actually hurt. This impacts my ability to really dig into the nooks and crannies of the lobster and dig out every morsel of meat. Even in death, the lobsters spines protect it from desecration.


Cleofas in his element.

There's no other way to describe it, this has been a feast. A variety of flavors and textures. Me likey. If more meals were like this, life would be a fairy tale.

There's talk of dessert but we're stuffed. How about some after-dinner drinks? Hmm, somehow after dinner drinks seem so civilized, which is unusual for me. We try a local drink. It's alcoholic but sweet and on the rocks. Do you want more? No, thanks. One is enough. We have to work tomorrow.


Liquor on the rocks.

As we drink, Julio notices an older gentleman and introduces us to him. He's one of the grandfathers of the revolution. A true Nicaraguan hero. We have a photo with him. Just a few hours in-country and already we're being introduced to famous people, this must be what it's like to be Prime Minister.

Afterwards, we pile back into Don Roberto's van and the one minute drive back to the Hilton where it's time to crash out for a day of judges training in the morning at 7am.

The casino is just across the street...


Our group with a leader of the revolution.


Taska Kiko
Los Robles Monte de los Olivos 1c al E No.6
Nicaragua - Managua, Managua
505-2701569