Nicaragua is fascinating in as many ways as you wish. I credit myself with describing Nica land as the Wonderfully Destinationless Destination. It is desperately poor and inconvenient and dirty and dangerous. At the same time it hides the last of CA`s treasures.
As the cheapest place in the hemisphere, Nicaragua had a jumpstart on the race for my heart. But just being cheap and dirty doesnt make you cool. Nicaragua knows that.
Costa Rica tries to keep it real, but Nicaragua will always be more real. Costa Rica is as expensive as the States, with only the advantage of cheap accomodation and short distance in between medicocre destinations. Nica doesn´t care about the tourist. And that´s whats cool.
The biggest and best waves in CA, the most undistrubed cloud forests, the best food, the most refined accomodation for below 7USD, the smallest distances with the biggest differences, etc.
Gallo Pinto belongs in Nicaragua, and so does my heart.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Friday, January 18, 2008
How to Apprehend a Mugger in Latin America
I wouldn´t say that I´m a DIY kind of guy, but when you´re traveling in the developing world (or the 2nd poorest nation in the Western Hemisphere in this case), you have to be prepared to make some lifestyle sacrifices. These include everyday things like relying on nutrition to warm you in cold showers, ensuring food safety, helping human waste get where it needs to, assembling a large enough constituency to lobby for the bus to leave today and not tomorrow, etc.. I accept these responsibilities and sacrifices happily, as I know the tremendous inconveniences and sacrifices involved in third-world travel always pay off in big ways.
I have been taking Spanish classes in a little town called San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua before I set off to travel the rest of the country until the end of February. San Juan del Sur is a booming town that is beginning to feel the perks of foreign investment and tourism. It´s a wonderful place blessed with spectacular beauty, surfing, and some of the kindest people in Latin America. Nonetheless, SJDS is poor. Nicaragua´s economy has never recovered from the decades of civil war that left infrastructure and the hallmarks of a developed society bankrupted and in ruins. Recently, Nicaragua´s economy has slipped off after a period of modest growth, and most economic indicators put Nicaragua as the second-poorest in the Hemisphere, and slipping closer to Haiti.
Desperate poverty+vulnerable tourists=crime. Usually petty theft, it happens all over the world. A few days ago, one of the predictions I had written in my journal about this trip came true. I wrote on one of the first pages;
"My string of unbelievably good luck will end on this trip."
I was right.
On the 15th of January (the day after my birthday) I got out of Spanish class at 1230pm. I had some things to study so I went to the beach to do so. After awhile I decided to take a walk to the point on the north side of the beach, about a 2km trek. The beach ends about 1.5km into the walk and it turns to rock, which you have to navigate with care.
I rounded a smaller point and saw a local guy walking towards me quickly. I immediately had a bad feeling about him. He greeted me loudly and approached me, exptending his hand. I tried to keep my distance but it was too late. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. That didn´t surprise me. What surprised me was that he actually knew the English word for money. I didn´t have much so I cooperated, as it is never intelligent to fight off muggers. He took my 250 cordobas (about 21 bucks) and my 40USD watch. When he realized that was all he was going to get he reached for my bag and ripped it off me holding the knife against my chest so I didn´t resist. That didn´t bother me. Its just stuff, and I can replace it. Totally not worth risking my life for replaceable objects.
It all happened pretty fast, and I was very cooperative, but about 30 seconds after he ran away from me with my Spanish books, back pack, some money, and my watch, I was totally filled to the eyeballs with a desire for revenge. The complacent robbery victim that I had been in front of the knife was replaced by a pissed-off vigilante when the weapon disappeared. Therefore I did what any logical person who just got robbed at knifepoint would do. I gave chase.
The assailant scrambled up a path of jagged rock that makes up the 200m tall point, and was met by a group of municipal workers who saw a nervous and sprinting Nicaraguan with a fistful of money and a nice backpack and put 2 and 2 together. They were able to rip the bag from the guy but not apprehend him. My bag was splayed out and emptied on the ground about 100m away from me, and I saw the robber run from the municipal workers. I trusted the workers so I left my bag with them and continued to chase the robber. He scrambled impressively down a part the steep shale face and made his way around the point, he was much faster running on the rocks than I. Watching all this were two Americans--Greg and Samantha--who got their shirt and book stolen from them. We decided it was time to let it go and started walking back south to get to town and safety.
During the walk we recounted our stories to each other, all agreeing that it was totally unreasonable to try to chase this guy, and not worth it to re-enter into close proximity with him. I believed this too, and we made it about halfway down the beach when Greg turned and saw someone coming around the point, about .75km away. The good sense and reason I had in me 10 seconds earlier was again replaced by a thirst for justice and revenge. I started back up the beack to meet the assailant.
When I started to get close to him he figured out who I was and started running. I picked up some rocks and ran after him, gaining quickly. I got slose enough to launch one of the rocks and it just missed. the next two connected solidly on his upper and lower back. He ran off the beach and into the sketchy neighboorhoods on the north side of SJDS. He obviously knew this area better than I and was able to evade me again.
Dejected, I turned from physically chasing him to assembling a neighborhood coalition. Like I said before, Nicaraguans are f-ing cool and very warm. They genuinely dislike crime done to foreigners who come to contribute to the local economy and hang out with them. The people in the neighborhood react in an amazing way to my efforts. For some reason the adrenaline running through me assisted me in retreiving words from my mental Spanish bank that made the coalition-building process run quickly. At one point I told a crew of construction workers about a robber loose in the neighborhood. One of the men had a trowel in his hand, and upon hearing LADRON (robber) he dropped the tool into the concrete he was smoothing over and sprung into an aggresive vigilante position, ready to take action in my cause. It was quite possibly the coolest exchange I have ever had with another human being.
My coalition of local children, construction workers, and a group of men in a beat-up yellow four-door Toyota was swarming the area, and I returned, shank of metal in-hand, to secure the beach perimeter.
After about a half-hour of patrol, I was starting to give up. My breathing slowed, and I began to resign myself to the reality that the asshole got away. Just at that moment, I heard a roar from behind me. When I turned I saw the Yellow Toyota bombing through the river that flows through the beach from SJDS and coming right towards me at, what I would say, was about 50MPH. I was frightened but curious. When the car slid to a stop next to me, the door was flung open and the men inside were screaming unintelligibly. I jumped in, metal shank in hand, no shoes, no shirt, and we sped off with one of my legs still out the door. We hydroplaned over the river and I was desperately trying to get information about what the F was going on. I didn´t know whether these guys were with me or against me, and they were so charged up I couldn´t understand their Spanish.
We came to a screaching stop in the middle of an indescript neighborhood and piled out of the car, all toting various weapons.
There, standing in a pile of acrid waste and metal, was my assailant. Sweaty, head down, in handcuffs.
(Internet is expensive and I have to go meet some friends so I will finish this story, which gets better when we start dealing with the Nicaraguan police, at a later time.) Check back later and watch your stuff.
I have been taking Spanish classes in a little town called San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua before I set off to travel the rest of the country until the end of February. San Juan del Sur is a booming town that is beginning to feel the perks of foreign investment and tourism. It´s a wonderful place blessed with spectacular beauty, surfing, and some of the kindest people in Latin America. Nonetheless, SJDS is poor. Nicaragua´s economy has never recovered from the decades of civil war that left infrastructure and the hallmarks of a developed society bankrupted and in ruins. Recently, Nicaragua´s economy has slipped off after a period of modest growth, and most economic indicators put Nicaragua as the second-poorest in the Hemisphere, and slipping closer to Haiti.
Desperate poverty+vulnerable tourists=crime. Usually petty theft, it happens all over the world. A few days ago, one of the predictions I had written in my journal about this trip came true. I wrote on one of the first pages;
"My string of unbelievably good luck will end on this trip."
I was right.
On the 15th of January (the day after my birthday) I got out of Spanish class at 1230pm. I had some things to study so I went to the beach to do so. After awhile I decided to take a walk to the point on the north side of the beach, about a 2km trek. The beach ends about 1.5km into the walk and it turns to rock, which you have to navigate with care.
I rounded a smaller point and saw a local guy walking towards me quickly. I immediately had a bad feeling about him. He greeted me loudly and approached me, exptending his hand. I tried to keep my distance but it was too late. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. That didn´t surprise me. What surprised me was that he actually knew the English word for money. I didn´t have much so I cooperated, as it is never intelligent to fight off muggers. He took my 250 cordobas (about 21 bucks) and my 40USD watch. When he realized that was all he was going to get he reached for my bag and ripped it off me holding the knife against my chest so I didn´t resist. That didn´t bother me. Its just stuff, and I can replace it. Totally not worth risking my life for replaceable objects.
It all happened pretty fast, and I was very cooperative, but about 30 seconds after he ran away from me with my Spanish books, back pack, some money, and my watch, I was totally filled to the eyeballs with a desire for revenge. The complacent robbery victim that I had been in front of the knife was replaced by a pissed-off vigilante when the weapon disappeared. Therefore I did what any logical person who just got robbed at knifepoint would do. I gave chase.
The assailant scrambled up a path of jagged rock that makes up the 200m tall point, and was met by a group of municipal workers who saw a nervous and sprinting Nicaraguan with a fistful of money and a nice backpack and put 2 and 2 together. They were able to rip the bag from the guy but not apprehend him. My bag was splayed out and emptied on the ground about 100m away from me, and I saw the robber run from the municipal workers. I trusted the workers so I left my bag with them and continued to chase the robber. He scrambled impressively down a part the steep shale face and made his way around the point, he was much faster running on the rocks than I. Watching all this were two Americans--Greg and Samantha--who got their shirt and book stolen from them. We decided it was time to let it go and started walking back south to get to town and safety.
During the walk we recounted our stories to each other, all agreeing that it was totally unreasonable to try to chase this guy, and not worth it to re-enter into close proximity with him. I believed this too, and we made it about halfway down the beach when Greg turned and saw someone coming around the point, about .75km away. The good sense and reason I had in me 10 seconds earlier was again replaced by a thirst for justice and revenge. I started back up the beack to meet the assailant.
When I started to get close to him he figured out who I was and started running. I picked up some rocks and ran after him, gaining quickly. I got slose enough to launch one of the rocks and it just missed. the next two connected solidly on his upper and lower back. He ran off the beach and into the sketchy neighboorhoods on the north side of SJDS. He obviously knew this area better than I and was able to evade me again.
Dejected, I turned from physically chasing him to assembling a neighborhood coalition. Like I said before, Nicaraguans are f-ing cool and very warm. They genuinely dislike crime done to foreigners who come to contribute to the local economy and hang out with them. The people in the neighborhood react in an amazing way to my efforts. For some reason the adrenaline running through me assisted me in retreiving words from my mental Spanish bank that made the coalition-building process run quickly. At one point I told a crew of construction workers about a robber loose in the neighborhood. One of the men had a trowel in his hand, and upon hearing LADRON (robber) he dropped the tool into the concrete he was smoothing over and sprung into an aggresive vigilante position, ready to take action in my cause. It was quite possibly the coolest exchange I have ever had with another human being.
My coalition of local children, construction workers, and a group of men in a beat-up yellow four-door Toyota was swarming the area, and I returned, shank of metal in-hand, to secure the beach perimeter.
After about a half-hour of patrol, I was starting to give up. My breathing slowed, and I began to resign myself to the reality that the asshole got away. Just at that moment, I heard a roar from behind me. When I turned I saw the Yellow Toyota bombing through the river that flows through the beach from SJDS and coming right towards me at, what I would say, was about 50MPH. I was frightened but curious. When the car slid to a stop next to me, the door was flung open and the men inside were screaming unintelligibly. I jumped in, metal shank in hand, no shoes, no shirt, and we sped off with one of my legs still out the door. We hydroplaned over the river and I was desperately trying to get information about what the F was going on. I didn´t know whether these guys were with me or against me, and they were so charged up I couldn´t understand their Spanish.
We came to a screaching stop in the middle of an indescript neighborhood and piled out of the car, all toting various weapons.
There, standing in a pile of acrid waste and metal, was my assailant. Sweaty, head down, in handcuffs.
(Internet is expensive and I have to go meet some friends so I will finish this story, which gets better when we start dealing with the Nicaraguan police, at a later time.) Check back later and watch your stuff.
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