I went to Santa Teresa (1) to see Niqui. From here i went to Liberia (2),and visited the playa of El Coco. After this I decided to leave Costa Ricca and went to the beautiful twin vulcano island of Omotepe (3 Nicaragua), visited another beach in San Juan del Sur (4), before I went to Granada (5), and from here visited Laguna Apoyo, Masaya (6), Managua (7), before I had a great time in Leon (8). After visiting Ocotal (9) I left Nicaragua and went straight to the capital Tegucicalpa (10).Santa Teresa
My previous story ended in Puntarenas (Costa Rica). I’m on my way to Niqui, a friend who I met 2 years ago in Rio. She then started her journey through South America, and came back to Holland in December 2004, a few months before I started my journey. Nickey managed to stay a year in Holland but decided that surfing and good weather were resons enough to move to Santa Teresa in Costa Rica. She arrived here only a few days before me, but i was in the neighbourhood, so why not pop in for a few days.
Going to Santa Teresa
Santa Teresa, it may come as a surprise, is a surf spot. Until not so long ago, there were only a few houses, but since last August changes have been big, and now everywhere you can see building projects, land for sale, new hostels and houses, places for rent, places to sell etc. Etc. The hell has broken loose, ground prices have risen, and they say that prices might rise to $300 per sq meter, whereas they are now around 50, coming from 10. Nicky and here companion Teddy are planning a surf hostel here, and I must admit that i am a little bit jealous.
Santa Teresa is situated on the south side of the Nicoya peninsula, just above the Cabo Blanco reserve. It (still) is a beautiful place.
the beach near santa teresa
Long stretches of white sand, 
Santa Teresa beach
some live coral here and there, tidal pools with little fish in it, lots of herons because of that, strange rockformations on the beach, remnants of what....... I don’t know,
strange rockformations
live coral
fishing heron
and of course the colours of the sea, 
The colours of the sea
the surf breaking on some old coral banks,
Breaking surf
here and there some capes 
A cape in an idyllic bay
and in many places (still) tranquil beaches, that most of the time you have for yourself.
On the hills behind the beaches some trees are blossoming with yellow colours, and on the beaches coconut palm trees. There are so many it is easy to find eatable ones, and I’m not the only one that likes them. Little crabs have opened many and when I come closer to watch it carefully, at least 20 of them rush out of the coconut, frightened by my noble looks.
Coco crabs
One of the coconuts I open is starting to form a sprout inside the coconut. It looks like a mushroom and it would have grown through the hard shell presumably within a few weeks to form a baby palm.I make long walks along the beach. During one of these walks to the Cabo Verde Parque I see little parrots, vultures, pelicans flying in V-formations, sometimes more than 100 in a squadron, fishing herons, a spectacular flying bird of prey (a white body with a grey head and grey wings – which bird is this prof. Koenderman?) with a little fish in its claws.
Cabo Verde
There are some lizards and leguana’s, and I see squirrels. I am in a biologist’s paradise
Cabo Verde2
and suddenly I see a group of Howler Monkeys. The males are easy to identify.
Search the male
But I’m afraid all this will disappear. Already in Santa Teresa there are not as many Howlers as used to be, teddy the companion of Nicky tells me, and when the number of tourists will increase (f.i. 10 fold), the quiet beaches won’t be quiet anymore, and many animals will disappear.
It’s the tragic of a beautiful spot, one day it will stop being beautiful, what will endure are the many hotels, restaurants, bars and noisy disco’s, and a nice place for surfing.
And I must admit surfing looks great. Observing surfers for days, I also realise it must be horribly difficult to learn it. It is easy to understand though, that it gives a great kick when you are able to ride a big wave. Nicky wanted me to give me a lesson, but there was too much wind. Later when I leave Santa Teresa I feel bad about it. I realise too late that I should have stayed a little bit longer to try to learn it, although I realise it might take months to get out of the stage of a beginner.
Surfin beach
I spent a couple of nice evenings with Teddy and Niqui, unfortunately almost always surrounded by noisy Americans (why do more than 2 Americans always produce more sound than a group of Howler Monkeys?). I hope she does well, and has a great time in Santa Teresa.
Next I move to Liberia. This is a nice town an hour away from the Nicaraguan border. It is nothing special but there are not too many gringos and from here I can get to El Coco, another beach town, where it might be able to dive.
It is situated in between to capes, but there again too many gringos, too many real estate shops, and the beach looks dirty. Later (in Nicaragua) I meet a Dutch woman who has a divers shop here, and she tells me there were humpback whales in the bay in this period, and some wale sharks. Ahum…., if I had known that……..(grrrrrrrr).
El Coco
After Liberia I decide I have seen enough of Costa Rica. It is not that I don’t like the people here. On the contrary, the people here are friendly, the car drivers are tolerant, and the bus drivers are no maniacs, the country is clean and it is the most prosperous country I have seen in South and Central America. But I don’t know, I feel empty inside, something is missing. I cross the border without any problems, pay an entrance fee and after crossing a forest of aggressive taxi drivers I take the bus to Rivas. The contrast with CR is shocking. I’m back in the poverty that you see in Peru and Bolivia. There are a lot of bicycle taxis, street vendors (which you don’t see in CR), chicken buses, without space and comfort, sometimes though with chicken, the streets are filled with poor people and the town is dirty.
Omotepe
Omotepe
I take a taxi to San Jorge from where a boat leaves to Omotepe, one of the great attractions of Nicaragua. Omotepe is an island in Lake Nicaragua and is born out of two volcanoes that are interlinked by a small isthmus. One of the volcanoes, Concepcion, is almost always covered in clouds, a nice picture is the reward.
Concepcion 1
Concepcion 2
According to some on the boat this is a rough ride but after my trip through the Darien I feel I am in a bath tub. On the boat I meet Avarel, the manager of Hacienda Merida and together with a group of other backpackers (Bas & Greet, Dutch; David, a Swiss guy etc.) we arrive in a great place where I spend 5 days, most of the time relaxing in hammocks, talking to other travelers, and strolling around.
Hacienda Merida
It turns out that Bas & Greet were the same time in Cartagena. They took the boat I wanted to take, but which was then full. They tell me their breathtaking story of the journey, and my ride through the Darien Gap is nothing compared with their fearful experience which lasted three days.
Bas and Greet in smoother waters
They left in a small 10 meter small sailing boat. During the first night the weather turned bad and they had to navigate through 10 meter high waves. One of these waves broke against the boat, and filled half of the boat with water. B&G fearing this is the end of their lives, luckily the boat doesn’t sink.Everything wet, no board computer anymore and it turns out that the captain is not experienced in this sort of weather. The second more or less the same weather, and in the morning of the third day they each the first island of the San Blas, but it is not over yet. To get through the opening of the reef, they have to maneuver through a small opening and the sailing boat has to make a turn, but the stirring wheel doesn’t function and they are not able to repair it under these conditions because the boat is heading for the cliffs. The main anchor is heavily locked and in the panic on board the captain throws out the emergency anchor, but because he doesn’t secure it properly, the first big waves causes the rope to let loose, so there goes the emergency anchor, they are loose again, and the cliffs are approaching fast.
In the next 20 frightening minutes, with the reef getting closer and closer, Bas finally succeeds to free the main anchor!!!
Their story is or will be published shortly in a Dutch water magazine. I was very glad not to join this trip, although their pictures of the San Blas islands are absolutely fabulous.
Together with B&G we canoe to a swampy river. Thanks to the very strong wind in front (but B&G are used to this!) it is hard work, 
Swampy river
but it is also enjoyable because the people along the shore are smiling and waving. In fact the people of Omotepe are the friendliest people I have met during my trip. For example the women in Hacienda Merida are extremely sweet, and every time I melt when I look at them. Is it their karma or is it the food they prepare, because their kitchen is the best food I have had after Argentina.
Sustainanble fishing techniques
Along the shoreline there are many orange flowering trees, there are a lot of noisy parrots, especially when they are being chased by a vulture, there are magpie jays, herons, cattle egret, kingfishers, cormorants and in the swamps we observe during twenty minutes a small group of Howler Monkeys.
Howler male
More swamp
The Hacienda too is a nice place to observe birds from the peer, and in the lake there are fishes that have relatives that swam in my aquarium. I feel sad when I see they are caught by a little girl, and lay dead on the shore. And (oh no not again) the sunsets here…………..
Sunset Omotepe
I leave Omotepe with pain in my heart, but forever I will have good memories of the friendly people and the peaceful island. My next stop is San Juan del Sur. When I step out of the taxi, my camera falls on the ground, and after I found a very basic hostel I inspect the beach. I’m here because they say you can surf here – and after Santa Teresa I really like to try it somewhere - but when I see the surf, there is no surf. FUCK!
San Juan looks a lot like El Coco, it lies in a bay with two capes, the beach is not very clean, although it is better than el Coco. Also here are many real estate agencies, selling houses to mainly Americans.
Back in my very basic hostel I discover that my camera is broken, because of the fall. I’m completely sick of it, it feels like I am castrated. I’m certainly not going to buy a fourth digital camera, so from now on I fall beck on my reflex camera.
That night it storms in SJ, and because I sleep under a tin roof there is so much noise that I hardly can sleep.
Next day I visit Playa Majagual, north of SJ. The beaches here are almost similar to Santa Teresa. It is even more pristine, and you can surf here when it doesn’t storm (what it does) and when the water is not freezing cold (which it is).
A big turtle comes ashore. She presumably wants to lay eggs and when she creeps her way up, a few young adolescents who are there as tourists see her and start to carry her to a place where the sand is very hot. They are after the eggs, although this turtle is protected.
When I object (together with two Americans) they reply we should mind our own business. It is their country, it is their culture and more of that sort of crap. Luckily the turtle is too stressed to perform her deed, and she creeps back to the sea. I can’t help it but I have to smile when I see the sad faces of those silly idiots.
Also this idyllic spot will change drastically, btw. Most of the land here and in many other places on the Nicaraguan coast is bought up by big American real estate companies. Two of the hills near Majagual will be completely developed, changing the whole atmosphere of the beaches. The companies will make huge profits (and local people will hardly profit from that), it will attract rich people, prices will rise, and as a result this will push people at the underside of society under the poverty line. If they dare to steal, big fences and armed security guards will push them back to their wooden sheds, where they can rot.
I’m in a cynical mood. As soon as most of this area is destroyed by shovels and bulldozers they will buy the remaining forest, make it a private reserve, built luxurious lodges in it, and kick the last remaining local people out. Business is business, and if we don’t do it, others will.
After another stormy and sleepless night I leave for Granada.
Granada
Distances in Central America are nothing compared to South America, so I choose Granada as a city from where I could make day trips to surrounding places, mainly because I stayed in a nice hostel (Oasis), and I am getting tired of moving from one place to another. First I go to Masaya.
Masaya is probably an ordinary Nicaraguan town. Which means it is poor. Everywhere you see houses falling apart, people that don’t have jobs, beggars (they have some sort of job), 1 horse power driven wagons, 
Masaya
and dirt everywhere. I am not very tidy but this is even too much for me.
Like in Peru people absolutely don’t care to throw everything on the street, on the verge, in little rivers etc. etc. etc. If you walk to the boulevard next to the Masaya Laguna, this could be idyllic spot is dirty too, and what might be a nice spot for local people to enjoy their Sundays or to make money with tourism, it just looks disconsolate. 
This is not tidy
Sometimes the old romantic fool that’s in me shows up, an old woman who is sitting behind something that looks like a spinning wheel. It gives me a familiar feeling, like it is connected with my past. Although my sister Thesy used to spin, the feeling is older, and my conclusion is that is must be related to the fairy tail Repelsteeltje (Rumplestilskin). Funny how your own feelings can mislead you in judging situations, if you don’t know what’s behind it all. I already knew that lesson, but it is good to re-experience this from time to time. 
Old spinster?
There are also moments of despair. Walking through these sorts of towns gives me the feeling of total hopelessness and shame. There are so many beggars that giving money is useless. You can help one for one day, but the other 10000 or more………? Seeing all the disabled, blind, old etc. etc. there is nowhere to begin. It makes you realize so intensely that there are so many things not right in this world. Thank god that these people have a faith. If not, what would happen, if they believed there is no life after death. Would they be waiting patiently, or would they start stealing, killing or doing other nasty things??? It is easy to understand why Che Guevara is so popular in Central- and South America. The main reason for visiting Masaya is the artesian markets.
Artesian market
I AM GOING TO BUY A LOT OF STUFF …………….but when I see all these precious little items my head starts to spin and I have the feeling that I must leave this place as soon as possible. What doesn’t help either is that every time when I look at an item longer than 1/10 of a second, a “helpful” saleswoman jumps in my neck, and starts to show me all the nice other things she has in this category. They don’t know (but I do) that if you treat me this way, I certainly loose my interest. Only one feeling left, get the hell out of here!!! I am just not born for shopping, I completely miss the feeling for this sort of beauty.
Earthquakes are common in Nicaragua. For instance in 1970 there was a big earthquake that killed more than 6000 people in Managua and many people became homeless. Most of the international funding ended up in the pockets of former President Somoza. The Somoza clan ruled Nicaragua for three generations, one of the main reasons (maybe THE REASON) why this country is the third poorest country on the American continent. Also in 2000 there was an earthquake, and in Masaya you can still see the traces of it. The San Jeronimo church looks like it is glued together in several places.
San Jeronimo church
When leaving Masaya I’m amused by the bus station here. It’s a mess, no organization it seems, and the buses are probably even worse than in Bolivia. The long distance buses are also chicken buses, and it doesn’t make long trips very appealing. All those buses are btw old American school buses, and from the texts in the buses I make up that they are at least 40 years old.
Masaya bus station
In this region there is a lot of volcanic activity, so after Masaya I go to the Laguna Apoyo. During this trip I can’t remember to have seen an old crater filled with water, and that is what Laguna Apoyo is. From the rim it is a nice view on the lake, and it is a nice place for a swim, but there is nothing more to enjoy. According to my guide book this seems to be a national park where you can spot a lot of birds, but the only things I spot are hostels, ugly little houses, and a lot of dirt and garbage.
Laguna Apoyo
But there is more volcanic activity to see in the area, and then I go to the Parque Nacional de Masaya. The Masaya Volcano National Park comprises an area of 54 km² and includes two volcanoes and five craters. The volcanoes have erupted several times in history, and were feared by both the indigenous people and the Spanish conquerors. The Spanish baptized the active volcano "La Boca del Infierno" or "The Mouth of Hell". They planted a cross, "La Cruz de Bobadilla" (named after Father Francisco Bobadilla), on the crater lip in the 16th century in order to exorcise the Devil. By the way, the indigenous people had another way to please the Gods, they threw in children and young women ALIVE. So this time the cross is certainly an amelioration.
Parque Nacional vulcan de Masaya
Everywhere you look you see the effects of volcanic activity, and it reminds me of the Galapagos, although it is not as dramatic here in Masaya.
Santiago crater
You can see old lava streams, little volcanoes, imploded calderas, extinct volcanoes (f.i. Masaya),
Extinct Masaya crater
a smoking crater (Santiago, which is close to Nindirí),
Santiago crater again
and crater lakes, and in the very distance you see many more like a volcano close to Managua, that might become very active in the near future, because - according to a Brazilian priest I met on the rim of Masaya- a lot of tremors can be felt in Managua
Laguno Masaya in the distance
More remnants of vulcanism
Granada itself is according to many people the nicest city of Nicaragua, although others say Leon is THE PLACE. Again a Spanish colonial town, and when I compare this one with the towns I saw in South America, Granada is not very special, although there is one thing here that is new for me. 
Granada
The center is more a less like a center should be, but as soon as you walk away from it, it gets a rural atmosphere. The streets a couple of blocks outside the center look more like a village, with sandy roads, and wooden (and rotten) houses.
Rural Granada
There are some nice spots in Granada, but overall it has the same poor atmosphere like the rest of Nicaragua I’ve seen until now. When I think back of Granada there is really not much I can think of that is worthwhile. F.i. Granada is at Lake Nicaragua, and you expect they have a nice boulevard. Nothing like that. The lake is about 15 minutes walking from the center and it looks dirty. There is something that looks like a park with a lot of restaurants, but most restaurants are closed, probably got bankrupt, and the whole atmosphere is boring and POOR. Even the entrance fee is poor. I pay 2 Cordoba’s (10 eurocents), and even this is too much. By the way, while in Granada I manage to buy a very tiny screwdriver from a man that is repairing watches on the street, and thanks to a stroke of technical insight I manage to repair my digital camera.
One of the few times I am afraid during my trip is when I visit the hair dresser in Granada. It is cheap (less than 1dollar), but he takes out a big razor, and starts to shave my hair. My hair is going in all directions, and I feel like a rabbit being striped from his skin, ready for the stew! Thank God, the guy knows what he does, it even is not that horrible.
After Granada it was time to visit Managua but I already was warned by Vicongo de Ototlan that Managua was even worse than San Jose. I am afraid he is right, Managua sucks!
Downtown Managua
As already mentioned, Managua was hit by several earthquakes, the last in 1972, which destroyed most of the historic center. Since then there hasn’t been much going on in this part of town. One of the reasons seems to be that in this area there are too many vaults, and it doesn’t make sense building here. It might be true, but to see that there are still people living in this area in houses that make all Granada houses look like palaces, to see a heavily polluted lake Managua, to see all the dirt on the beach, to see the boulevard here with poorer than poor restaurants, to see the old cathedral falling to pieces, to see parks made with any lack of fantasy (and money), to see the rest of Managua without any nice building, again I’m shocked by the poverty of Nicaragua. It may be the third poorest country in the Americas, on other criteria it may be the poorest. On one internet site they are able to come up with one interesting site to visit in this capital. It may be The National Palace of Culture... Well, OK that wasn’t too bad, that’s true.
The only thing there
The only other thing I could appreciate a little was a monument of which I forgot the name.
With sight on John Paul 2 monument
For the rest Managua gave me a same sort of feeling like Köln. A city without a heart, and what has replaced it, is giving feelings of alienation and malice.
For one thing though I will always remember Managua, it only took me two hours to see what I wanted to see, and after that I wanted to leave ASAP!!
After this I decide it is time to go to Leon. All the people I met have different opinions on Granada and Leon. Some tell me Leon is the place, while others are in favor of Granada. I belong to the Granada camp, I discover soon after my bus arrives. There is the biggest cathedral of Central America, in a poor condition, I stay in a crappy hostel with very friendly people, but Leon is not what I had in mind (sorry Leon).
The book says it is a student town, and normally student towns mean attractive chicks, attractive bars, and some places for intellectual conversations (in this order of importance), but not that I can discover.
Cathedral Leon
And then there is Mauricio. Sometimes you meet people you regret having spoken to after a few minutes. Mauricio was that sort of guy! He addressed me on the street, spoke a few Dutch words to me, told me he was a guide and has a language school, exchanged email addresses with me, wanted on a picture together with me (where he grabs me firmly), asked me what I liked to do with him (I already cautious said I was tired, had a head ache, and didn’t wanted to see him until next night 8 O’clock) and when I left, he gave me a firm kiss (with his prickly beard, ughh) when leaving. After this 5 minutes of intense contact I felt I as run over by a bulldozer.
Maurico and me in happier times
Back in my hostel I meet Mat, an American who tells me he has been studying Spanish in Guatemala for 3 months and that he plans to stay another week in Leon to do another language course. He has a contact, and he is going to meet the person in a minute, so of he goes!
Sometime later I go out for dinner, find a very cheap place and order a large beer. When I have almost finished my meal, guess who is coming to diner??
Mauricio grabs a chair without asking (I already start to feel uncomfortable), after almost a minute suddenly jumps on the 20 cm free space left on my chair (me thinking this is a normal custom for the people in Leon), and maybe thirty seconds more he starts to move his hand towards my knee (well it might be a habit in Leon, it is certainly not the sort of culture change I’m willing to undergo right now), so I tell him to keep his hands in HIS pockets.
After a few more embarrassing moments I decide to go back to my hostel and Mauricio the gentleman he is, decides to walk me back.
In front of the hostel when I shake his hand to say good buy, I suddenly feel that something or somebody is not only shaking my hand but also my Willy. Well I may be a dog sniffing my dick, but I suspect Mauricio’s fingers are on the loose again.
I consider myself relatively tolerant to guys kissing me, and touching my penus, Ok is there is some sort of mutual bondage I’m willing to undergo this reluctantly, but after two short oral contacts!??????
Go to hell Mauricio, keep those little sausages of yours in your pocket or putt them in your ass if you like. Mauricio is a funny guy though. When I tell him to I don’t like his treat, M. replies “No tengo problemas”, which I interpret as: “I’m not offended when you object when I give your mister a hand”. Well I reply: “YO TENGO PROBLEMAS”, which should be interpreted as: “I don’t want you to scratch my balls, they are mine and I decide who has the liberty to tickle them”.
After M. has left I am more or less furious, that little prick who does he think he is, horny dwarf!
Back in my room, Mat is already asleep at 9 O’clock, and early in the morning at 6 he leaves, he is obviously in a hurry! I leave at 9.30, and when I inspect the room for lost things, I see under Mat’s bed a note. I read the note and there is a name, his direction and his email address on it. Guess who’s…..
Mauricio’s.
At the bus terminal I want to take the micro express to Esteli, to get out of town ASAP, but the express only leaves when it is full, so I have to wait until 10 more people have shown up. Finally after 45 min. we have reached the magical number and we pay. The bus closes and………
We are not off. After 15 minutes the bus is still standing there, and yes 15 minutes later we still haven’t moved an inch. This certainly is a fast connection. After 45 minutes it turns out that there is no driver. I suspect M. is behind all this, and I am forced to take a chicken bus to San Isidro, after that another chicken bus to Estelli, and after Estelli a chicken bus to Ocotal.
This last bus however is fun to travel with. The cabin crew is very good humored, they make people laugh, they hurry people in and out of the bus, patting them on their back, carrying their hand luggage, and sometimes even pushing them into the bus. They even manage to get an old woman running, she doesn’t want to miss the show! Sometimes life can be very simple.
Chicken bus surprise
Ocotal is the last city before the Honduras border and it is a quite friendly place. This time I am approached by Sariah, a 21 year old girl, who is studying computer engineering, and in her free time she approaches tourists, because she wants to learn English (which she speaks quite properly), German and Dutch.
Her big dream is to live in Rotterdam (??), she tells me. So I help her with the pronunciation of a few Dutch sentences, and when we say good buy she keeps her hands in HER pockets, the little bitch!
Next day I leave for Honduras. Although I wouldn’t have mind to stay an extra day here (to help Sariah a bit more) I’m running out of money, my bankcard doesn’t work here, and in town they don’t change traveler’s checks. So into another chicken bus and of to the border.
At the Nicaraguan border I have to pay 2 dollars to leave the country. They give me another paper, which is the same as the one I got when entering it, and it is a tourist card. Why the hell do I need another Nicaraguan tourist card when I leave the country???
Meanwhile on the Honduras side of the border, at least two windows away from where I am standing, an English guy is yelling because he has to pay three dollars to get out. He is quite firm that there are NO FEES, but also he receives an “official” note, although it looks clumsy and at hoc.
So now it is my turn to approach the Honduras desk. Papers are flying everywhere, people are rushing in and out, it all looks very official, and when they see me, a foreigner, some boy gives me paper, looking me friendly and hopeful in my eyes, and tells me to pay 7 dollars. On my question why not 3, he replies sharply: “IN IS NOT OUT”, which makes perfect sense to me. They even help me to surpass at least 20 locals, and when I pay with a 20 dollar note, they cannot change ( I don’t have small cash), and the boy says: “well 100 Cordoba’s (which is 6 dollars) is also good. In a record time I have passed this tricky obstacle and I am in Honduras. The same English chap is telling me that he earlier paid only 3 dollars to get in!
Of course I feel screwed, but it is also funny. All those hard working border officials, who have infected their colleagues in far away Nicaragua, those people actually are working very motivated to earn their bribe. It even looks they are running an efficient business.
After the border I hop on another chicken bus to El Paraiso, where I take a chicken bus to Danli, there I take a chicken bus to Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras, where I arrive at 5 O’clock in the afternoon. After 3 days traveling in chicken buses, I am rather exhausted.
Chicken buses are not very comfortable, in fact they are uncomfortable, no space to unfold your legs, only air to put your head against, and because they stop every 15 seconds to let people in or out, they hardly move.
I must admit that the landscape in this part of Honduras is quite nice. There are hills and some canyons, there are some pine forests that smell delicious. But there is not much vegetation and most of it looks dry and ochre. I realize I have left the tropics somewhere (but where?) with its lush, voluptuous vegetation. Tropical vegetation is almost erotic. It gives a lot of energy, while these ochre colors make me feel I am almost dead.
Just before arriving in the capital we cross the slums. On the small hills which surround Teguc. there are tiny wooden sheds and there are no goats living there. I am shocked! Compared with this, the people in Casco Viejo (see my previous story), Panama live in luxurious mansions. FAMILIES WITH LITTLE CHILDREN LIVE THERE, my GOD!
The slums of Teguc.
I’m dropped in the outskirt of Teguc and I take a taxi to my hostel. Of course the cab driver charges me far too much. Of all the people I have met, I have developed a strong antipathy against taxi drivers. 95% is scum, they cheat and they lie most of the time. Sometimes though I can understand it, there are probably 2 million taxis in Teguc, it might take months before someone enters your cab, so why not ask 6 year salaries? Later that night I’m going to a Chinese restaurant. In front of it there is a guy with a rifle. Is the food that bad here? In fact it is even worse. They should park a tank in front of the building.
I decide to stay a day in Teguc. I am too tired for another day chickenbussing, and although I don’t want to admit it to myself, I also want to see this capital. There is an art museum here and I need some culture to energize myself. But I will get much more than that!!
Teguc reminds me of La Paz. Everywhere there are stalls, people selling an enormous amount of crap on every street, the traffic jams, the noise, all the buses, the beggars and the city is teeming with life. Also like La Paz, but to a lesser degree and without the snowcaps, there are mountains around, and a part is inhabited.
When I leave the museum, which is a nice building, but has only a meager collection, there is a little demonstration in front of it. It is a group of 50 persons who are asking attention for their lost relatives, who disappeared 20 years ago. Their faces are on pamphlets, and I see young people who presumably lost their parent(s) murdered by an inhospitable and corrupt regime. I feel tears almost welling up and I almost start to cry. I’m touched by the kind and open face of a woman on one of the pamphlets. She is (was) a kind of woman I immediately would have loved deeply. What kind of person could have done something to her? I also imagine me standing there with a portrait of one of my brothers or sisters (or they standing with my portrait). What more do I need to say…?
Lost
Well this, in that same square in a different corner, there is a little pamphlet about nowadays police hearing methods. In some places they like to cut fingernails during interrogation. Police men are not well enough educated for this task, so in many instances they cut a little bit (and some times a little more than a little) too deep. For the first time during my trip I decide to stay away from public officials as far as possible. Honduras has a rotten mentality, I can feel it everywhere. But there is more to come!
I walk to the Parque Central, where a lot of old men are sitting on benches doing nothing, watching people, maybe exchanging gossips, who knows? I visit the cathedral and yes enough gold here to feed the whole Honduras population for a year. At the back of the church there is a 12 (?) year old kid standing. When I take a closer look at him I feel awful. I drop one of my most firm principles, w.i. not to give money to kids. This little kid has a very heavy cross to carry. Most of his body, as far as I can see, is burned. He is blind, and his face is heavily mutilated. In a country like Honduras this kid doesn’t stand a chance. When I leave the church I cry. Life can be so incredibly unfair to people.
Later when I walk back from a hill where a hypocrite peace monument is erected and from where there is a nice view over the city,
Tegucigalpa from peace monument
I cross a bridge. Under me I see three poor young men digging in the sand next to the river. They remind me of the gold diggers in Bolivia. A miserable and hard job. I feel sorry for them. On the other side I see a cowboy chasing two cows on the banks of the river. The cow disappears between buses that are parked there, a comic site.
Gold seekers
At the end of the day I walk through the area around my hostel. It is crowded with street vendors and stalls. They say it is a dangerous area. Everywhere you see people with arms. Even our hostel has one, he doesn’t look smart, he probably can’t hold a pencil, but at least he has a job. I understand why people try to defend themselves, but I have more sympathy for the people that have no perspectives to lead a decent life.
Police force 1
On one of the streets I see a young and handsome beggar (about 20 years old) lying on the street. The look in his eyes says it all, he doesn’t have any hope left. He is absolutely hopeless. A few meters away I see a young girl, exposing her big tits in a narrow shirt, almost pushing them between my nose. She will find her way in life, I’m sure.
Los endos
