Nicaragua? Why Nicaragua?” The question’s been asked by everyone I’ve come in contact with since my return from investigating investment opportunities in this economically down-trodden Central American country. A year earlier, I’d have asked myself the same question. Now, my response would read something like this: “Because I see a good opportunity there, and a country abundant with untapped natural resources and beautiful coastline that’s been compared to the likes of California in its infancy or more recently, an up and coming Costa Rica.” And still they would ask, “But what is it about Nicaragua? Isn’t it dangerous?” The worst appears over; there’s a conscientious new government in place determined to rebuild and restructure; there’s an economic upswing on the horizon; there is neighboring country support; there’s a great potential for a boost in tourism; and above all, Nicaragua still offers one of the few commercially unspoiled locations that’s reasonably affordable for new people interested in buying or living overseas.
For all of those reasons visiting Nicaragua made sense to me. Certainly I did my homework before booking the flight for a three-day weekend to personally explore the possibilities of what could be my first ever home purchase or summer vacation site. I needed to see this new development called Rancho Santana first hand and reassure myself that my money was not needlessly flung on a far-fetched whim located some 2,000 miles to the south and west of my residence in New York. What I came away with was the personal satisfaction that the investment risk was minimal, and in addition, to see another side of life I did not expect, which allowed me to explore my own life and learn to appreciate what I have and worry less about what I do not.
A long shot investment? Maybe. Ultimately, I saw an opportunity in Nicaragua where the not so mighty dollar still wields enough purchasing power for long-term profit. At the very worst, I could own my own home, insured against earthquakes, hurricane damage and mudslides, practically on the Pacific, that serves as a comfortable vacation getaway… and at best, a potential rental income producer in my absence with a value that grows 50-100% or more in the next several years.
Managua, the capitol city of Nicaragua, is six hours away by plane from New York, and another hundred light years from anything I had expected to see of a major city outside of maybe a place like Ghana. The airport reminded me of my grandparents’ musty basement. Upon arriving, this would arouse the initial questions of judgment my mind hindered me with time and again throughout my stay there. The weather was extremely hot and humid and the abundance of insects were apparently not of the shy variety. So there I was waiting on line at customs, stone cold sober, silly with self-doubt and two hours younger visiting Central America for the first time in my life wondering where I was headed and what could I hope to accomplish from it.
I had never traveled solo before to a foreign country and knew very little of the Spanish language, yet what I did learn all those years ago living in L.A. was quickly dispelled by my having just finishing four semesters of French, and the certain Latin-based similarities that go with it. I was excited Basement Remodel Wellesley MA and nervous at the same time… and my overnight stay lie just across the street at the Best Western Las Mercedes, reminiscent of an oversized miniature golf course with log cabin style accommodations.
The local real estate agent who I had conversed with previously, and the gentleman partly responsible for my committing to this journey, picked me up the next morning, and it only took a few minutes to realize why he opted not to drive the night before. We were two and a half hours away from our destination bordering the Pacific Ocean in a little town called Tola, but nothing could have prepared me for what lie ahead. “Where is the big city,” I inquired, as we headed down this long, thin stretch of road that was nothing short of dilapidated at every angle. I felt like a billiard ball bouncing from one cushion to the next as my well adjusted chauffer navigated through bumps, potholes, mud slicks, and various assorted pedal pushers and pedestrians who knew nothing of the dangers of a Toyota Four-Runner bearing down on the open road. If it weren’t for the patches of green pasture that occasionally popped up, I could have closed my eyes and knew no different from traversing the jagged edge of the moon itself. My ensuing headache wouldn’t allow it, however, nor could I suppress the suspense of what I thought I would find… bustling city streets with the cosmopolitan feel of the capitol district. There would be none of that on this path.
