Marc Goes To Nicaragua!
2023 Perdomo Factory Tour
A bat. A pangolin. An open-air livestock market. The failure of the Luddites to thwart the industrial
revolution. The Wright Brothers’ successful attempt at human flight in Kitty Hawk, NC. I have just
described the ingredients necessary for a years-long pause in factory tours at Tabacalera Perdomo in
Estelí, Nicaragua. On January 28th, 2023, the first Perdomo tour group in almost 4 years arrived in
Managua. This group included me.
Aeropuerto Augusto Cesar Sandino, despite its grandiose name, contains a dozen or so gates. This
humble portal served as the first foreign soil upon which I had ever stepped. Were it not for the actions
of those ahead of me in line, it would have been difficult to determine who in the airport served as
employees, as there was no apparent uniform policy in place. A street-clothed woman with a clipboard
summoned me into a cluster of 2 or 3 other similar acting officials. After a thorough, 7-second
examination of my credentials, she gestured around the corner towards a line of customs officers in
individual booths. There I faced even greater scrutiny in a 2-minute, 8-word interview before one of my
$10 bills was exchanged for a tourist visa.
After receiving no opposition to the contents of my luggage, as well as confirming with a random airport
employee (she was at a desk, so I figure she worked there) my freedom to exit the airport, I searched
outside for the shuttle van to the Hotel Globales Camino Real. Though it was nowhere to be found,
another tour participant outside noticed the Perdomo logo on my shirt and asked if I was awaiting the
shuttle. This was serendipitous for my incredible anxiety in being surrounded by the unfamiliar. A few
minutes later, we were picked up and speedily shuttled to our hotel.
All other tour participants had already arrived and checked in. After checking in myself at around 3pm, I
joined the others by the pool to meet, greet, and smoke. I met Arthur Kemper, the VP of Perdomo and
our tour guide, as well as several Perdomo sales representatives. As this was the first tour in years, more
than a quarter of total participants were Perdomo sales reps (6 in total, 5 newbies). Despite my
excitement to meet everyone and talk shop, my sleep deprivation and travel weariness took
precedence, so I was asleep by 6pm and remained in bed until 9am on January 29th
.
Our directive was to be ready to depart for Estelí by noon. Therefore, I had gotten ready, checked out,
eaten, and lit a cigar by the pool by about 10:30am. After an hour and a half of smoking and talking in
the company of both other participants and several roaming cats, we loaded the Perdomo school bus
and hit the Pan American Highway north to Estelí.
Following the theme of the airport, the highway’s immense-seeming name was in stark contrast
to its 1-2 lane reality. Nevertheless, aside from occasionally having to roll our windows up for roadside
garbage fires, the drive was pleasantly scenic and, as I sat close to Arthur who described things we
passed, informative. We stopped about 3⁄4 of the way to Estelí in a town called Sebaco for a gas station
respite. A woman selling fake Ray-Bans for $5 apiece poised herself just outside the bus door. Despite
there being 2 police officers inside the gas station, one wielding a shotgun, this stop was quick and
uneventful.
About an hour later, we arrived at Hotel La Campiña, a small, family-run inn a few minutes north
of the Perdomo factory. As it only contains about a dozen rooms, Perdomo rents it out entirely for its
tour groups. The rooms were arranged in a square with doors facing inward to a small courtyard. They
were each equipped with a mini-split air conditioner, a TV (which surprisingly had cable), and a restroom
with shower. Despite many warnings beforehand telling us we would be paired in our rooms, I received
a private room with a king-sized bed.
Though we had running water, the hotel operated on a small septic system which had to be
pumped clean every few days. As such, toilet paper was to be thrown in the trash rather than flushed.
There was no water heating tank, but there was an electric heating element around the shower head.
The water pressure was not much greater than dumping a bottle of water over oneself, and the heat
lasted for about 2 minutes. There was a lobby (every space outside the rooms was outdoors) where we
smoked as a group.
We were served 3 buffet-style, time-of-day appropriate meals each day. The food was hearty
and humble, including selections of various braised meat and rice dishes, beans, cooked and fresh
vegetables, and a dessert after each dinner, all cooked from scratch. I couldn’t help but think of the
contrast between the meals at our table and those occurring in the many tin-roof sheds we passed on
our way there. Perdomo maintained coolers of bottled water, beer (Toña- the Nicaraguan equivalent of
Bud/Miller/Coors), and Coca-Cola in the lobby. The hotel provided coffee at breakfast (6:30am every
day).
After breakfast on Monday the 30th, we started our educational journey in a small building on
the hotel grounds. There we were given a seminar by Arthur on the history of how tobacco seeds got to
Nicaragua after the Cuban revolution, as well as basics of the measurement and importance of soil
composition. Oscar, their chief agronomist, with translation from Arthur, illustrated the difference in soil
amongst the multiple farms Perdomo operates across Nicaragua. We were also given demonstrations of
the seed sorting and seed tray implanting processes.
From there, we were bussed to Finca Natalie, Perdomo’s farm in Estelí. Though the entrance to
the farm complex was from a paved highway, it was several minutes down a narrow, gravel road until
we reached a clearing where we could see the farm itself. Despite only a small portion of the farm being
planted, it was still a marvelous sight. We took photos in assorted groups at this point.
We then proceeded to the bottom of the valley where we exited the bus and sat on folding
chairs at the farm’s edge. There Arthur gave a seminar on the importance of the farm's geography: the
surrounding mountains protected the tobacco plants from wind damage, and a nearby river fed the
irrigation system. Arthur then led us to one of several nearby greenhouses to view and discuss the
seedling tobacco plants. The seedlings must be constantly observed and measured for potential sickness
and root formation density. Once confirmed to be healthy and strong enough, they are suitable for
planting in the field.
Upon exiting the greenhouse, we boarded a tractor-pulled trolley to be taken through the fields.
This provided ample photo opportunity. We got off the trolley to walk on a trail between plots, the size
of tobacco plants growing every few dozen feet. Newly planted seedlings were being fed a mixture of
water and fertilizer through overturned soda bottles. Until the plants are nearly fully grown, oxen are
driven between the rows to pack the soil. As the lowest leaves begin to touch the soil, they are culled to
become organic compost, as they are deemed too insipid for Perdomo’s taste. The flowers atop the
stalks are culled so as not to sap nutrients from the rest of the plant. Smaller leaves called “suckers” (as
they suck nutrients) which spring up from the flower bulb site are culled every few days until all leaves
are harvested. Leaves lower on the plant are “viso”, higher up “seco”, and the highest “ligero”.
We then arrived at the curing barns- large sheds made on site by hand of eucalyptus. Inside,
workers strung leaves in groups of 72 onto eucalyptus sticks to hang in the barn. Other workers climbed
as high as 30 feet to hang these sticks to cure over the next few weeks. This process is key in allowing
the leaves to release moisture and gases, turning them brown and pliable. Though this barn seemed
endlessly large from within, it was only 1 of 5 such barns on this farm, which is only 1 of 3 farms owned
by Perdomo. After the barns, we bussed back to the hotel for the night. We had to leave by 4:30pm to
beat traffic, as almost all workers left exactly at 5pm.
The next day, Monday the 31st, we left at 8am for the factory. We passed the factories of My
Father, Oliva, Padron, and 1 or 2 small others between our hotel and Tabacalera Perdomo. According to
Arthur, Perdomo’s is the only factory in Nicaragua who flies an American flag. The façade of Perdomo
was utilitarian in contrast to the Spanish hacienda exterior of My Father, but this is a point of pride for
the business-first Nick Perdomo.
Our first stop at the factory was a building housing the pilones: the piles of fermenting tobacco
leaves. Once we summited the stairs to the top floor, we were overcome with a pungent mix of
“barnyard aromas” (think zoo pachyderm exhibit) and what Arthur adamantly insisted was not
ammonia. Here, leaves tied together in “hands” were stacked in massive piles weighing 3-4,000 lbs. The
temperature in the center of a pilon reaches over 100 degrees Fahrenheit before it is disassembled. The
hands are then individually moistened, beaten of excess moisture, and set in a single layer on tarps for
1-2 days before being assembled into another pilon. This process is repeated until the pilon operation
manager, Hamilton, determines through wrapping a leaf around a cigar and smoking it to determine its
burn quality and flavor that a pilon is sufficiently fermented.
We continued to a balcony with an attached office. Arthur mentioned here that Nick Perdomo
was upset that this balcony was constructed, as its area could have been used to house more pilones.
We left this building, stopping briefly in their climate-controlled seed bank. Though it was only a small
shed with a few dozen jars, the infinitesimal size of a tobacco seed meant this room housed millions. We
then visited the hornos, or drying rooms. Here, the fermented leaves were placed in single layers on
sheets of chicken wire in heated rooms. The pungency here was so intense, we were advised to hold our
breath to enter the room and only remain for a few seconds. Several participants decided here to test
their pulmonary fortitude, and as many spent the next few minutes coughing.
Just outside the hornos was the baler. Here we watched as 2 workers placed a cube of the dried,
fermented leaves under a press, which compacted the cube to less than half its original size. They then
sewed the pressed cubes into tarps, thus creating a bale. We continued to the bale aging room, another
seemingly endless warehouse of shelves of bales, their resting place for up to 10 years. At the end of the
warehouse was a collection of barrels filled with leaves. Arthur explained here how every wrapper leaf is
aged in ex-Bourbon barrels. However, they also make a line of cigars, the Vintage 12-year, whose totality
of leaves is bourbon barrel aged. This line is limited to only 100 retailers, so many of us would most
likely never see one on a retail shelf. We were given a choice of Connecticut, Sungrown, or Maduro
Vintage 12-year to smoke there. We were also given the opportunity to feel and smell the leaves in the
barrels. The aroma was potent yet pleasant, and the texture was lightly oily and firm.
This room also housed the wrapper leaf moistening chamber. The aforementioned moistening
and beating process is dangerous to the fragility of the wrapper leaves, so they are instead attached to
40-foot-long, spinning cylinders while nearby water jets gently mist them. We were then taken to see
where workers broke apart bales of aged leaves to weigh and portion them into bundles. We then
briefly visited a room where they kept their pesticides; every few months, the aging rooms are gassed
for beetles. After this, we gathered in a room with rolling tables and chairs but no workers, tobacco, or
equipment. Arthur said this would soon become an overflow rolling room. He also told us we were
about to enter the production side of the factory.
We were told not to stop until instructed. This was because we had to pass through a packaging
room which we wouldn’t be visiting until later. We stopped in a room eerily quiet for housing several
dozen workers. This was the deveining room, where workers skillfully stripped the stem and no more
from each leaf. As part of Perdomo’s overall policy of making as little waste as possible, these would
become compost. We were then shown where office workers distributed the weighed bundles to
runners who brought them to the rollers.
It was now the moment we had all been waiting for: the rolling room. We filed quickly to one
end of the gallery. Though I didn’t count, I would estimate there were at least 200 pairs of rollers in this
room. Arthur gestured to the workers, who then began pounding their tables to applaud our arrival.
Though I doubt any among them genuinely cared, we were assured the workers were grateful we had
spent our time and/or money to visit them in their home country.
After our sitting ovation, Arthur took us to various pairs of rollers to explain the process. Some
rollers act as boncheros, or bunchers. The boncheros bunch the filler leaves together inside a binder
leaf, placing them in a Lieberman machine (a device which ensures uniform rolling) to create the bundle.
The bundles are then placed into molds, which other workers stack and place into presses. After a
couple of hours, the pressed bundles are passed out to different rollers who place the wrapper leaf and
cap. Each roller specializes in bunching or wrapping only one vitola (size and shape of cigar).
We took a couple of group photos, after which we were allowed a few minutes to roam around
the rolling room to examine what we pleased. One participant remarked to Arthur that a particular
bonchero was lightning fast. Many of us gathered around him to witness his speed. We affectionately
referred to him as the “Tom Brady” of bunching, a reference he appreciated.
The next step was the quality control room. Here, bundles of 50 cigars were taken apart and
examined individually for defects. Once finished examining, the workers reassembled the bundles with
defective cigars flipped around. These would be delivered to the rollers who rolled them to be fixed if
possible. If a cigar is too defective to fix, it is taken apart to salvage whatever leaves possible. Once a
bundle fully passes quality control, it is delivered to the draw testing room. There, workers double check
the ring gauge is precise, then place the foot of the cigar in a tube that pushes air in and out of it to test
the draw quality.
Bundles of cigars which pass all steps are ready for the cigar aging room. There, they sit on
shelves to dry and age for up to 2 years. During this time, workers occasionally use a special probe
inserted into the foot of the cigar to measure the internal humidity. After aging, the cigars are ready for
the packaging department.
Before we visited packaging, we went to the box factory. Perdomo is proud of its vertical
integration, meaning they personally make almost everything that goes into a box of Perdomo cigars-
including the box itself. Repurposed cargo containers serve as drying and storage room for lumber. Once
properly dried, they mill the lumber into the various shapes and sizes used in the box factory.
The box factory was the only point during the tour where we were not allowed to smoke. Here,
workers manufactured every part of the box except the labels and hinges/clasps. They mill, hammer,
sand, and press the boxes into shape. This process alone requires a box pass through dozens of hands.
The finished raw wood boxes are then hinged, stamped, lacquered, dried, silk-screened, quality
controlled, touched up, labeled, placed in plastic sleeves, and stored in a warehouse until the cigars they
are to contain are ready to be packaged. We saw a batch of “Perdomo Reserve” boxes being finished.
“Reserve” is the name Perdomo must use in lieu of the word “Champagne” in the European market due
to legal issues with the French. “Habano” must also be omitted outside the US due to the Cuban cigar
monopoly on that word.
Inside the box warehouse, we were shown a museum of old Perdomo boxes. These ranged from
old versions of current cigar blends to completely discontinued lines. We were also shown an old box for
the “Edicion de Silvio”- a discontinued cigar named in honor of a decades-long Perdomo employee who
left the company 2 years ago (hence the discontinuation). This box contained coffins of individual cigars.
We also passed an impressive mural of discontinued labels.
In the packaging department, we stopped in the band room. One of the very few things
Perdomo doesn’t manufacture in a box of their cigars, the bands and box labels are made by a company
in the Netherlands who makes bands/labels for brands such as Opus X and Davidoff. In this room,
workers broke apart and grouped together bands for the packagers. Contrary to what one might expect,
the packagers are given exactly as many bands as they are cigars. Should the packagers make a mistake,
they must exchange each ruined band for a new one for accountability and inventory purposes, as the
bands are expensive.
After this, we visited the color testers. There are over 70 different shades of wrapper leaf
identifiable by a trained color sorter. These workers are given bundles of aged cigars which they must
break apart and place in trays of like shades. These trays are then taken to the penultimate step in
producing a box of Perdomo cigars: packaging. The packagers band, cellophane, bar code, and box the
cigars by hand. The finished boxes must pass one final quality control test. A table of two workers
inspects each box, as well as unboxes and inspects every cigar. Duds are sent back to the worker
responsible to be rectified. If a single cigar in a box is deemed unsatisfactory, the entire contents must
be disassembled and sent back to the color testers to be resorted to ensure uniform color in each box.
The finished boxes are then shrink-wrapped.
The final step is to freeze the finished boxes to kill any beetle eggs that may be in the cigar. They
are frozen to –40 degrees, then spend 2-3 days being brought slowly back to room temperature.
Unfortunately, the freezer was mid-tempering while we were there, so we couldn’t see the inside. After
they are tempered, the cigar boxes are grouped together in cardboard boxes for shipment to Perdomo’s
warehouse in Miami, Florida, from which point they ship to retailers across the world.
It was at this point we were brought to a display table atop which was every vitola of every line
of cigar Perdomo sells in the US. After Arthur explained the wares, a tour participant suggested we give
a round of applause to the factory workers. We cheered for them for a couple of minutes, after which
Arthur became visibly emotional. It was the least we could do after witnessing all the hard work that
went into everything on that table.
After dinner at the hotel that evening, we gathered in the outbuilding we started in for a
seminar on the Perdomo sales and marketing philosophy. Arthur introduced us to the concept of the
“Perdomo Matrix”: the ideal retail shelf arrangement of Perdomo cigars for maximum customer impact.
He posited that while some cigar stores are good at selling their wares, most lack the basic customer
service (let alone the sales acumen) to effectively market their cigars. Therefore, Perdomo designed a
presentation pattern after the displays of companies like Frito-Lay and Coca-Cola. In theory, Perdomo
believes this arrangement will lure shoppers to stand in front of it not unlike they would when buying
chips or soda at a grocery store.
Upon conclusion of this seminar, Nelson Cuba, operations manager for Perdomo, held up his
phone for Nick Perdomo to thank us via video call. Unfortunately, he was in Miami, so this was our only
interaction with him the entire tour. Afterwards, Arthur presented each of us with a certificate
commemorating our completion of the Perdomo factory tour. He then gave us each a 3-pack of the
Vintage 12-year cigar.
At 8am on Wednesday the 1st, we departed Hotel La Campiña for the airport. Other than a brief
stop when the bus driver thought we had a flat tire (we didn’t), our ride back to Managua was sedate.
Despite being allowed to take Bic lighters into Nicaragua, I had mine confiscated on departure. While
waiting to board the flight back to the US, I went into a small smoking lounge. There was one other
person inside. We got to talking and I found out he was none other than Luciano of Luciano cigars. He
threw me a free stick and I gave him my business card. I have yet to hear from his sales representative,
so I suppose we won’t be carrying their stock any time soon.
Other than becoming sick with COVID the day after getting back home, I am incredibly grateful
for getting to visit Nicaragua. I had a general idea of the broad strokes of what it took to make a box of
cigars, but to witness every step firsthand, to see the sheer scale of it, was a humbling and enlightening
experience. I hope one day to visit again. I also hope one day to have the opportunity to write a synopsis
of a visit to a different factory, maybe even in a different country. Until then, I’ll have fond memories
and fine cigars to keep me company.
