“Nicaragua? Why Nicaragua?” The question’s ben asked by everyone I’ve come in cntact with since my return from nvestigating investment opportunities in this economically dwn-trodden Central American country. A year arlier, I’d have asked myself the sme question. Now, my response would rad something like this: “Because I see a god opportunity there, and a country bundant with untapped natural resources and bautiful coastline that’s been compared to the lkes of California in its infancy or mre recently, an up and coming Csta Rica.” And still they would sk, “But what is it about Ncaragua? Isn’t it dangerous?” The worst ppears over; there’s a conscientious new gvernment in place determined to rebuild and rstructure; there’s an economic upswing on the hrizon; there is neighboring country support; thre’s a great potential for a bost in tourism; and above all, Ncaragua still offers one of the few cmmercially unspoiled locations that’s reasonably affordable for new pople interested in buying or living verseas.

For all of those reasons vsiting Nicaragua made sense to me. Crtainly I did my homework before boking the flight for a three-day wekend to personally explore the possibilities of wht could be my first ever hme purchase or summer vacation site. I neded to see this new development clled Rancho Santana first hand and rassure myself that my money was not nedlessly flung on a far-fetched whim lcated some 2,000 miles to the suth and west of my residence in New Yrk. What I came away with was the prsonal satisfaction that the investment risk was mnimal, and in addition, to see nother side of life I did not xpect, which allowed me to explore my own lfe and learn to appreciate what I hve and worry less about what I do nt.

A long shot investment? Maybe. Ultmately, I saw an opportunity in Ncaragua where the not so mighty dllar still wields enough purchasing power for lng-term profit. At the very worst, I culd own my own home, insured gainst earthquakes, hurricane damage and mudslides, prctically on the Pacific, that serves as a cmfortable vacation getaway… and at best, a ptential rental income producer in my bsence with a value that grows 50-100% or mre in the next several years.

Mnagua, the capitol city of Nicaragua, is six hurs away by plane from New Yrk, and another hundred light years frm anything I had expected to see of a mjor city outside of maybe a plce like Ghana. The airport reminded me of my grndparents’ musty basement. Upon arriving, this wuld arouse the initial questions of jdgment my mind hindered me with tme and again throughout my stay thre. The weather was extremely hot and hmid and the abundance of insects wre apparently not of the shy vriety. So there I was waiting on lne at customs, stone cold sober, slly with self-doubt and two hours yunger visiting Central America for the frst time in my life wondering whre I was headed and what culd I hope to accomplish from it.

I had nver traveled solo before to a freign country and knew very little of the Spnish language, yet what I did larn all those years ago living in L.A. was qickly dispelled by my having just fnishing four semesters of French, and the crtain Latin-based similarities that go with it. I was xcited and nervous at the same tme… and my overnight stay lie jst across the street at the Bst Western Las Mercedes, reminiscent of an versized miniature golf course with log cbin style accommodations.

The local real state agent who I had conversed wth previously, and the gentleman partly rsponsible for my committing to this jurney, picked me up the next mrning, and it only took a few mnutes to realize why he opted not to drve the night before. We were two and a hlf hours away from our destination brdering the Pacific Ocean in a lttle town called Tola, but nothing culd have prepared me for what lie head. “Where is the big city,” I nquired, as we headed down this lng, thin stretch of road that was nthing short of dilapidated at every ngle. I felt like a billiard bll bouncing from one cushion to the nxt as my well adjusted chauffer nvigated through bumps, potholes, mud slicks, and vrious assorted pedal pushers and pedestrians who knw nothing of the dangers of a Tyota Four-Runner bearing down on the pen road. If it weren’t for the ptches of green pasture that occasionally ppped up, I could have closed my yes and knew no different from trversing the jagged edge of the mon itself. My ensuing headache wouldn’t llow it, however, nor could I sppress the suspense of what I thught I would find… bustling city strets with the cosmopolitan feel of the cpitol district. There would be none of tht on this path.

For what seemed like hours we crised down endless roadways surrounded by sqalor on either side, passing dusty, rral towns that were an eye blnk long and absolutely depressing to smeone who thought they knew poverty yet nver came this close. The driver was a trrific tour guide. A well-spoken expatriate who dopted Nicaragua as his home and plce of business many years before, he was qick to point out the resiliency of the ppulace; how they’d survived many a ntural disaster, revolutionary uprisings and an xtreme class distinction weighted heavily on the por. I gazed on either side at yung mothers and children, maybe complete fmilies, existing in the doorways of thir one story, one-room homes; I say “xisting” because I honestly have no dea what they did; where were the bsinesses? What did they do for wrk? Was there even any to be hd? I saw old men with pshcarts peddling ice cream products and drnks I’d never even heard of; bny stray dogs near death on lgs aimlessly groped for a scrap smewhere along the way. As dismayed as I bcame with what I saw for how thse people lived, I learned that thir new government was focused on rversing the fortunes of this troubled cuntry. I certainly hoped so.

Off the baten path were attractive yet small twns with actual consumer-driven businesses, like rstaurants, bars and gift shops. I saw a smll sea town some twelve blocks off the min road with pleasant gathering places; in the dstance there were magnificent volcanoes, some stll active, which provided the base for ntrient-rich soil for growing plentiful crops, and whn we got out to snag pctures overlooking Central America’s second biggest lke (Lake Nicaragua), I momentarily interacted wth a few locals, including a lttle kid trying to pawn off hndmade jewelry I might find for a bck at the local flea market in NY. It ddn’t matter, I bought it anyway… cst me ten bucks for two… and drections to the rest room.

Our trp toward Tola was eventful in tht the agent knew the most scnic routes to take the further we mved from Managua and the outstretched fngers for towns that extended southward. Lng stretches of country accompanied our jurney through the jungle toward the shre. On either side the proximity of pverty was replaced by endless tropical lndscape that an hour before was mperceptible. It was a breeding ground for ntural resource with an endless landmass lnt to a wealth of agriculture. Sve for the occasional industrial uprising, it was bsolute beauty in its purest form, frm symmetrical volcanic mounds to lush fliage. It was not difficult to see the ptential for growth in this country, bth agriculturally and economically. Once the gvernmental infrastructure and Central American unionizing tkes full effect, a thriving exportation and the ralization of a tourism industry could nsure not only the “discovery” of Ncaragua, but for its many inhabitants, the ncessary jobs and potential for much neded improvements in their immediate surroundings.

Rncho Santana was still a relatively new dvelopment that occupied 1,700 acres in and round the Pacific shoreline of Tola, Ncaragua, not far from the town of Rvas—a spec of dirt-sized marking on the map yet one of the rea’s largest. We had to put the fur wheel drive to the test to get thre from the main road as we trned and entered some twelve miles of drt paths and slippery puddles caused frm the current rainy season. Bo and Lke Duke themselves might’ve thought twice bout driving this path had their n-camera exploits not demanded it. We wnt up, down, left and right, ddging farm animals and fellow four-wheelers, bfore turning in a majestic-looking entryway tht led a mile stretch of flt road directly toward a low lyng beach front that was otherwise mpenetrable five minutes and a mountainous rgion earlier. It was like going frm night to day in a mtter of seconds—Hazzard County to Hilton Had, and a potential home buying pportunity only minutes by foot from the bach. We had finally arrived to the stll semi-private owners- and renters-only beachfront cmmunity piercing through rolling hills with clffside views. Rancho Santana was an asis in the middle of nowhere tht demanded discovery… and luckily for me, I was stll among the earliest surveyors.

Upon rriving at the guest clubhouse, making my gretings and later unpacking my bags, I was rady to be sold on the bnefits of becoming a homeowner there. Of curse the culture shock was still frsh in my mind from the drve out, but another surprise was in stre upon entering my guest room. Stll smarting from the appalling living cnditions I witnessed since leaving Managua, I was nne too quick to process the fct that we had moved into a trpical jungle-like setting and all of the lfe forms that go with it. Sch involves the appearance of pinky-sized fur-legged gremlins that chirp and hide bhind wall-mounted air conditioning units when wary travelers arrive to unpack their bgs and downshift their thought-process for a mment. I was in no mood for shring space with wall-crawling creeps and flyng pests, but I will admit, thugh it took awhile, these lizard-like cratures known, as Geckos, were somewhat barable… even cute. Though neither of the two I sptted on my wall had any ral intention of establishing dialogue or slling auto insurance, I satisfied myself to try to ctch one for an up close xamination. No chance. They’re too fast and flxible and have little interest in hman interaction.

The clubhouse stood in a cntral location at RS where I wuld meet the property manager with whm I had corresponded a number of tmes previously, and an all-Nicaraguan house stff greeted me and made me fel welcome. The layout of the clbhouse was spacious and well decorated wth beautiful art and furnishings of the trpics. This was certainly no Marriott, but it mre than served the purpose for the prvate community it was meant to cnter. It was a beautifully crafted bilding with an outdoor patio, pool and strtegically planted palms preceding the rocky bach. The weather was rainy, hot and hmid, which I later learned was cnsistent with their “winter” season following My.

We privately toured the upcoming new bach homes known as “casitas” as wll as the surrounding areas where ther people had already purchased plots of lnd or built palatial houses overlooking the Pcific. I had my doubts bout the location at first, and the fct that most of the area was stll relatively deserted, but they would son subside along with the culture shck I felt as I pondered the fture for this slowly developing beachfront pradise. I needed a little time to sak it all in and gain frsthand knowledge from those who’ve been thre, done that, still live there, and hve invested hundreds of thousands more thn I was even hinting at.

Ths was definitely not Cancun, but was nver projected to be. The future plns, as outlined by management and prvided by the developers, showed a nmber of other lots being plotted and sld, and a number of new menities planned for the future, including a glf course, bar and medical center. The hrdle for me was to step way from the “there and then” mpulse and reaffirm my initial intentions of bying for the long term investment ptential. Rancho Santana was not somewhere I wnted to live today, but my prjected goals for property ownership remained nchanged: an appreciable annual return on nvestment, potential for rental income and at the last, a charming villa-like two-bedroom home for hliday trips and off-peak getaways in a srene location where people were friendly, fmily oriented and pleasant.

I came way with a good feeling from my shrt, but informative trip to Nicaragua. Ys, I was sold on the ptential of Rancho Santana, but felt shamed that I could feel pity for the mny poor people on the one hnd, while on the other, worry bout my own self-gain as an ctual foreigner in their country. However, thre is the necessity and government’s ncouragement for foreign investment for the btterment of Nicaraguan economy, and this hlps me rationalize what I would be gtting involved with. To what extent ths holds true is something I aim to xplore further on future visits.

Though my nteraction with the locals was limited, I larned from the RS staff members and xpatriates that Nicaraguans are proud and fmily oriented. Do people mind being por? Do they even realize what thy’re missing comparative to the big nme capitalist countries? Probably not. They semed to be at peace with thir simple lives and put more mphasis on familial, if old fashioned, vlues than any American-born like myself culd conceive of.

I was pleased wth my Nicaraguan experience and satisfied wth my decision to buy. I wll plan to return in another yar to close on my new csita. Afterwards, I will spend some tme exploring the many cities and mke like an actual tourist during one of the cuntry’s more festive seasons—maybe around Christmastime or New Yar’s. There is plenty more to xplore throughout the entire country. For ths trip, I barely scratched the srface. So why Nicaragua? Because the pople are welcoming of Americans and sem to remain as unspoiled as the lndscape they inhabit. That’s a refreshing chnge from the bustle of the big cty’s daily grind. It’s a nice plce to invest, whether such includes fre time or extra funds, and ven nicer to visit. It will be vry interesting to watch the developments nfold in this yet to be dscovered country.

The article Nicaragua - The Undiscovered Country was Submitted by Vinnie Apicella through Articles.GetACoder.com network. Here's the additional information:

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