Little Corn Island, Nicaragua - Last Day in Paradise.

Our last day on the island was our busiest. This morning we made our plane reservations at the Dive Shop and then had breakfast at Casa Iguana, the first hotel to open here ten years ago. (It is for now for sale, fyi.) By now we've seen every hotel here, and I feel supremely confident that Michael and I are staying in by far the best room on Little Corn Island (for us). This is a feeling that I have never had before and it's quite nice.

Casa Iguana has the only public Internet access on the island. One computer is available from 8:00 a.m. til noon, $3 USD for fifteen minutes, fifteen minute minimum. It's a forty-minute walk from our hotel and there is always a line.

I don't have a problem living without Internet for a week, but I really feel I need to check in and make sure my grandfather is ok at home, and also to let him know I'm ok out here, because we both worry. So that's why we were out at Casa Iguana, because I'm way too lazy to walk forty minutes for their pretty good French toast, or their amazing view.

After breakfast, I sat and read an old Budget Traveler while Michael went back to the room to get his camera, and then we went looking for the lighthouse. The lighthouse, located in the middle of the island, no longer functions as a lighthouse but can still be climbed for a view of the island.

To get there we had to walk through a non-touristy part of the island and I was disappointed to see that all the locals don't all enjoy the same amazing housing that we've had, or the nice concrete houses along the path. I wouldn't ordinarily have been so surprised, but I thought that on such a small island maybe things would be different. I'm not sure why I thought that, but I did. So I was sad to see the corrugated shacks.

We took a wrong turn. Two guys approached us. When they started introducing themselves and chatting to us, we thought they'd want to sell us something or guide us somewhere, but they seemed to just plain want to talk. It turned out they were both Garifuna, and they were pleased to hear that we'd been to Livingston.

So we just stood and chatted, though it was hard to understand what they were saying with their accents. Listening to them was similar to listening to someone speak Spanish - I got the gist and understood every third word, but found myself nodding a lot and smiling a lot and hoping I wasn't accidentally smiling at the wrong thing.

They talked about September 11, and the younger of the two was shocked to hear how many people had died. He was pretty fuzzy on the whole topic, actually. He didn't know about the towers collapsing. I was surprised, because I thought that was pretty big news. Not because it was the US, but just because it was what it was. But the guys were super nice, and then we met another local guy.

His name, which we did not find out til later, is Hennington Livingston Downs. He guided us to the lighthouse. We didn't mean for him to do it, but he just stuck with us and chatted with us. He is seventy years old and attributes his youthful looks and good health to a diet of fish and vegetables. Seriously, break out the fish and vegetables, because this man was the best example of a seventy-year-old that I've ever met.

He can remember when Little Corn only had six houses on it. He speaks English as his first language, and also Spanish, some Miskito, and a bit of Chinese. He has thirty children, fourteen by his first wife, seven by another woman, and the rest from various sources. But that's not his fault - he was a sea captain and would often just find women in his room.

He said he owns land which includes 20,000 fruit trees and one of these days he's going to clear out the underbrush and create a park for tourists to pay to walk around and pick fruit in. He not only guided us to the lighthouse, but climbed the iron ladder to the top with us. The ladder was not a fun climb, but I'm not afraid of hights and the latter was perfectly sturdy, so I did ok.

From the top of the lighthouse, you can see the entire island. It's quite a view. Mr. Downs showed us where Derek's is and told us about a cannon on the north side of the island from way back in the day. After we climbed back down, he guided us back to our path.

Michael asked him if he thought the island would change, if they'd ever bring in cars or resort hotels. Mr. Downs said, "it's up to the young people," but that for the moment, they had voted against it. When we came back to the town, he was greeted left and right by his nickname, Bamboo. Everyone seemed to like him, and everyone had something to say. He was quite a guy.

Before he left us, he shook Michael's hand and said next time we'll grill some fish on the beach and have a good time, and he gave us a big smile and waved. Nice.

After lunch we went snorkeling again, and I'm sad to say I was even less relaxed in the water than I was yesterday. So eventually I just let Michael swim out to the reef while I sat on the rocks and enjoyed panicky man's snorkeling, aka tidepools.