I wanted to let everyone know I’m not ignoring my blog. I was robbed, so I have no money, debit or credit cards, no computer, camera or cell phone and little more than the clothes on my back.
I´m currently using the computer at a hotel in Managua, Nicaragua the Canadian Embassy is covering the cost of. I can not use it for doing much more than checking for emails. This update will probably take a couple of days since the computer is needed for hotel business.
I was robbed in Honduras, a country I recommend no one ever visit if they can avoid it. From the moment I left El Salvador, bound for Nicaragua via Honduras, everyone I met tried to over charge me, out right cheat me, or rob me. I hate to generalize, but this travel writer´s opinion is that every bad piece of PR Honduras receives is well deserved. Honduras should be flown over, sailed around or, if navigated by land, only done so by charter bus or car… and nonstop. If traveling by car, keep the doors locked, the windows rolled up, and do not stop for anything while on the road. If by bus, book through a travel agency that assures passengers that their passports will be processed on their behalf and that it is a nonstop trip. That way you’re exposed to the hordes of jackals prowling the frontier area for the shortest period of time possible.
Harsh words true… But you were not there when I was set upon by a pack of cowardly jackals. I was no doubt misidentified as an easy target being in my early 60s. Capable as I am, when confronted by 6 assailants I had to prioritize. As it turned out, two were not muggers but wanted to see what was going on and ran the minute they figured it out.
I retained my passport by disabling the cretin that had hold of it, allowing the rest of the pack to scurry off with my backpack, the day bag my electronics were in, and my wallet. My wallet had been literally torn from my pants pocket along with my passport. I was puzzled why the hasty retreat when I was so outnumbered. I assumed help was running up behind me or my assailants were not up to dealing with struggling victims. No. It was something far more startling to the would be thieves – I and the fellow I disabled were both covered with blood. My blood.
Days before, in Santa Ana, El Salvador, I’d been hit in a crosswalk by a racing Pizza Hut motorcycle delivery guy. Most of the damage I suffered was to my side, but a chunk of flesh had been cut away from my elbow. It scabbed over and was healing well. When the scab was torn away during the struggle it bled like crazy, far worse than the original injury had. I honestly didn’t feel any pain at all. I suppose to a pack of cowards the sight of blood and one of their number incapacitated caused them to bolt.
The member of the pack I’d disabled I allowed to limp off too, but he was eventually arrested I learned later. I had attempted to remove his ability to procreate, but missed. My kick caught him solidly in the stomach and he went down hard. As he did, he released my passport, grabbed his stomach, and vomited up whatever he’d eaten earlier. He was covered in blood and vomit and not walking erect, so I imagine being so close to the border, with police all around, he was stopped.
My backpack had been rifled through and tossed aside not too far away. I picked up my belongings as I walked towards it. Of course my day bag with my computer, camera and phone was gone. I looked a sight with one pocket of my shorts torn away where my wallet once was, and blood smeared all over me. I stripped off my bloody clothes, tied a bandanna around my arm, and put on something less likely to have me arrested as I tried to cross the border. I kept a reserve of US Dollars that a hasty, on the run search of my backpack missed. It was only US$50, but it was enough to get me out of Honduras, pay the fee to enter Nicaragua, and covered a chicken bus ride to Managua, Nicaragua.
To make a long story bearable, the Nicaraguan immigration people and police I had to deal with were great. So were employees at the Canadian Embassy in Managua. Of course nothing stolen was ever recovered, but I have since replaced everything. It took time, and while I waited I ended up visiting Granada and here I stay… at least for now. I can’t help thinking that I was destine to end up here from the moment I boarded the plane to leave Canada. I had no definitive destination or timetable in mind and was already detouring, so I guess I’d arrived where I was supposed to be. Nicaragua is truly a tropical paradise, with wonderful people, and much to see and do… and some of the best beaches in the world. I can see myself living here.