Dusk is settling in, and the hot Nicaraguan sun is quickly fading, bringing with it forceful offshore winds. It's feeding time for the frigate birds, who are scouring the sea out on the horizon. It's just the three of us in the water, a perfect closing to my first full day in this largely misunderstood country.

For those of you who are afraid of traveling to Latin America because you think it's too dangerous: don't be. Having been to some of the lesser traveled countries such as Colombia, I too was afraid of hostility and violence. Like Mexico, there are clearly places you should go and places you should avoid.

I've now spent just 24 hours in this blessed country, which is in the middle of its dry season. I decided to come here before Nicaragua becomes an expensive travel destination and/or explodes as a surf destination. On the plane ride from Houston to Managua, I happened to sit next to Rob, who invited me to his hotel near the Tola coast in south. After many serendipitous moments like this, I've become a firm believer in trusting that things and people happen for a reason.

Therefore, might I suggest that you just buy the ticket you've been anxious about purchasing. Just go for it. Beyond that, you might want to book your first night's stay somewhere, but let the other events just unfold before you naturally. There's something utterly comforting about being in a third-world country and seeing it develop before your eyes.

Specifically, the people here are awfully helpful. No matter their dire financial or living situations, the locals I've met are particularly resilient. The hotel cook Nestor, for instance, taught himself English and taught himself how to cook the most delectable meals this side of Central America. Rob told us that previous guests at the Brio contact him specifically to rave about Nestor's amazing dishes. Not only this, Nestor is the friendliest Nicaraguan I have yet to meet – and this is not to say that the people are not friendly because they are.

Speaking of Nestor, it's time for dinner. An enticing plate of garlic red snapper fillet, freshly purchased from a local fisherman, awaits me. The side of mashed potatoes could feed five starving children in the beachside village just down the road. Parrots are chirping goodnight from the trees outside, and the sun is quickly turning midnight blue.

So for now, I will say buenos noches, but tell you I've only just begun to explore this small country packed to the brim with vibrancy and culture. You will certainly hear more from me soon, but I implore you to come and see it for yourself.