Don't worry, we didn't eat the dog.Friday, December 12, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Policia Suizia
Cops aren’t exactly the same here as they are back home (understatement of the year). They still protect and serve and still do a great job of keeping people safe (and directing traffic with the best of em’), but then… well I’ll just let the story tell the rest.
In all my time here, I’ve never seen a cop actually “pull anyone over” in the traditional sense (i.e. pulling up behind you with flashing lights to get you to park on the side of the road). It’s not that they lack police cars, more so that there just aren’t any real rules to enforce on the highway (other than drive as fast as the road will allow and be as aggressive as possible (until another car honks or waves at you, at which point you ease up, smile and then yield to them)). They still pull people over, but instead of using cars they use check points placed along the major highways and main roads in town to stop “suspect” vehicles. Somehow, our car always seems to be such a vehicle (I think what makes our vehicle most suspect is that we lack tinted windows, and the police can therefore see that the occupants of the car are gringos and therefore have money that can be taken… but I digress). In the past, nothing too major has happened from these encounters (they try to make sure we have required safety equipment (triangles, jack, etc.) or to ensure that everyone is wearing their seatbelt (click-it-or-ticket) or if they notice we’re in a hurry they might create a bogus fine for us to pay before we can leave ($10 last time)). It wasn’t anything much to write home about… until now.
The other day, the other volunteers and I were in Teguc dropping off Joe at the airport (good luck on the interviews!) and then going to the bank to get money for the month. Just as we were pulling into the bank, un policia came up to the car and tapped on the window. Asking for the standard license and registration, I obliged, but the office quickly found fault with my state of WA driving license (they have a Honduran license which you should get after being in the country for 3 months (I came back into the country at the end of Nov, so technically being the driver I was free and clear), but none of the past volunteers nor most people who live here have one, so neither do we). Anyways, he (and you could just tell this guy was a real piece) told us to pull into the bank parking lot (as we’d previously been holding up the traffic he was supposed to be directing) to discuss the issue further. So we parked, got out of the car, and walked over to meet the approaching officer who had stopped some 15ft away from the car and was writing something on his hand. I approached and began trying to work out the problem only to find him oblivious to all the world save his writing on his hand. Finally satisfied with his handiwork, he slowly turned his hand to reveal the following: $7,000 (mind you, not 7,000 limpieras (still $350), but actual US dollars). He was obviously planning on us being new to the country, scared, and rich gringos (of all these descriptors, the only accurate would have been that of the color of our skin). I pretended like I didn’t know what he was saying (i.e. that he wanted a bribe), and insisted that if there was a ticket or fine to be paid, that we could go directly to the station and pay it. Not deterred, he mentioned that the station was closed now (noon) and would not be opened until Monday (the story began on a Saturday just before 12). Realizing the time, we informed him that either way, the bank was closed by this point (thanks to his interference) and we also wouldn’t have any money until it opened on Monday (a slight lie on our part, but I think you won’t begrudge us that). Still, he wanted his cut of our money, and mentioned that there were other banks around town still open (with ATMs if we had debit cards) where we could withdraw the cash to pay him (I mean the police force). At this point, I brought out the big guns, the ace up my sleeve, the secret weapon: I informed him that we were actually volunteers working with the Catholic church for the next year (true), living in nearby Talanga (also true), that all our money came from the local Church (not quite true… it comes from the Passionists, but it’s all the same Church), that we were currently in Tegucigalpa working on a project for Navidad in our community (not true at all), and (here’s the kicker) that we would need to get permission from the local Padres of the Church before spending any money and that (because we didn’t understand exactly what was going on) he could use my phone to call them and explain the situation in full. Thankfully, he had some sense of morality, and not wanting to extort priests (just volunteers), he quickly made his exit without any sort of compensation for his hard work in delaying our day (total time was about 35 minutes).
So kids, the moral of the story would have to be: don’t listen to cops (unless: a.) they actually are legitimate and have a justifiable claim against you or b.) they actually are so corrupt and have so little accountability that they actually detain you without cause and/or harm your person without any sort of consequence).
In all my time here, I’ve never seen a cop actually “pull anyone over” in the traditional sense (i.e. pulling up behind you with flashing lights to get you to park on the side of the road). It’s not that they lack police cars, more so that there just aren’t any real rules to enforce on the highway (other than drive as fast as the road will allow and be as aggressive as possible (until another car honks or waves at you, at which point you ease up, smile and then yield to them)). They still pull people over, but instead of using cars they use check points placed along the major highways and main roads in town to stop “suspect” vehicles. Somehow, our car always seems to be such a vehicle (I think what makes our vehicle most suspect is that we lack tinted windows, and the police can therefore see that the occupants of the car are gringos and therefore have money that can be taken… but I digress). In the past, nothing too major has happened from these encounters (they try to make sure we have required safety equipment (triangles, jack, etc.) or to ensure that everyone is wearing their seatbelt (click-it-or-ticket) or if they notice we’re in a hurry they might create a bogus fine for us to pay before we can leave ($10 last time)). It wasn’t anything much to write home about… until now.
The other day, the other volunteers and I were in Teguc dropping off Joe at the airport (good luck on the interviews!) and then going to the bank to get money for the month. Just as we were pulling into the bank, un policia came up to the car and tapped on the window. Asking for the standard license and registration, I obliged, but the office quickly found fault with my state of WA driving license (they have a Honduran license which you should get after being in the country for 3 months (I came back into the country at the end of Nov, so technically being the driver I was free and clear), but none of the past volunteers nor most people who live here have one, so neither do we). Anyways, he (and you could just tell this guy was a real piece) told us to pull into the bank parking lot (as we’d previously been holding up the traffic he was supposed to be directing) to discuss the issue further. So we parked, got out of the car, and walked over to meet the approaching officer who had stopped some 15ft away from the car and was writing something on his hand. I approached and began trying to work out the problem only to find him oblivious to all the world save his writing on his hand. Finally satisfied with his handiwork, he slowly turned his hand to reveal the following: $7,000 (mind you, not 7,000 limpieras (still $350), but actual US dollars). He was obviously planning on us being new to the country, scared, and rich gringos (of all these descriptors, the only accurate would have been that of the color of our skin). I pretended like I didn’t know what he was saying (i.e. that he wanted a bribe), and insisted that if there was a ticket or fine to be paid, that we could go directly to the station and pay it. Not deterred, he mentioned that the station was closed now (noon) and would not be opened until Monday (the story began on a Saturday just before 12). Realizing the time, we informed him that either way, the bank was closed by this point (thanks to his interference) and we also wouldn’t have any money until it opened on Monday (a slight lie on our part, but I think you won’t begrudge us that). Still, he wanted his cut of our money, and mentioned that there were other banks around town still open (with ATMs if we had debit cards) where we could withdraw the cash to pay him (I mean the police force). At this point, I brought out the big guns, the ace up my sleeve, the secret weapon: I informed him that we were actually volunteers working with the Catholic church for the next year (true), living in nearby Talanga (also true), that all our money came from the local Church (not quite true… it comes from the Passionists, but it’s all the same Church), that we were currently in Tegucigalpa working on a project for Navidad in our community (not true at all), and (here’s the kicker) that we would need to get permission from the local Padres of the Church before spending any money and that (because we didn’t understand exactly what was going on) he could use my phone to call them and explain the situation in full. Thankfully, he had some sense of morality, and not wanting to extort priests (just volunteers), he quickly made his exit without any sort of compensation for his hard work in delaying our day (total time was about 35 minutes).
So kids, the moral of the story would have to be: don’t listen to cops (unless: a.) they actually are legitimate and have a justifiable claim against you or b.) they actually are so corrupt and have so little accountability that they actually detain you without cause and/or harm your person without any sort of consequence).
Monday, December 8, 2008
Nicaragua
I feel that all I talk about in this blog are fun things, so I figure why break the trend now. The other volunteers and I recently ventured from the safety of Honduras into the even safer environment of Nicaragua (after the US and Canada, boasting the lowest crime rate in the western hemisphere (or at least that’s what we w
ere told (Hippie Hotel Owner, 2008))). After the 10 hours of traveling by bus that it took to get there, the trip was amazing.
First we arrived in León, a truly beautiful city boasting an impressive collection of churches, museums, and local markets (I probably read that somewhere in a guide book). The local Cathedral is the largest in all of Central America, and at the time of our visit they were in the process of restoring t
he impressive pictures of the Stations of the Cross. It was a truly remarkable sight. We visited several other churches in the areas, and even some ruins! (Alright, the ruins actually weren’t sweet at all… just an old church that had fallen into disrepair… don’t trust everything you read on a map). We didn’t spend too much time in León (maybe because all the museums were closed for the day when we got there, maybe because some nice beaches were only another hour away).
So next we moved on to Las Peñitas. I’ve been to a few beaches in my life, and I can honestly say that this one was up there with the best of them. While not a place for the traveler looking for a place with “paved roads” or “active night life” or “other people,” it suited our needs just fine (also, we were there mid-week and arrived just before the busy holiday rush would come in, so that may have had something to do with it). Rega
rdless, the beach was amazing, and for $6 you could stay on the beach (literally on the beach). We stayed at the Playa Roca, and the guys who ran the place were awesomely entertaining. They even had a dog who would sing alo
ng to the music (she seemed most partial to Santana, though she would chime into most any song). We got a little history of the place, and apparently the town had been much bigger and much closer to the water about 20 years ago (and then a Tsunami came…), but it’s present state was exactly the sort of relaxing beach experience that I like. Reluctantly, after a couple of days we had to move on to our final destination.
The last town we visited was Granada, honestly the nicest and most well-kept place I’ve come across in Central America (the rich gringos who buy homes and shops down here probably have something to do with that). The
colors of the city were so vivid. Most buildings were painted in very vibrant and active colors, and there was an energy in the town’s center which was present both during the day and night. For those of you not familiar with Nicaraguan geography, check it out. You might be surprised to see the presence of gigantic lake in the southern part of the country (I was). If you had a little money (i.e. not us) there were some amazing tours nearby that would bring you to the top of a nearby volcano, to variou
s islands in the aforementioned giant lake, or to a nearby lagoon set in the crater formed by an imploded volcano (I heard it compared (by other gringos) to a sight similar to the Grand Canyon). Anyways, limited by time and funds we were unable to take advantage of these landmarks but instead explored the city (and gazed at the volcano and islands from afar).
I guess it wasn’t entirely accurate to say Granada was the last town we visited. We had a bus ride back to Honduras at 3:30am from Managua (capital of Nicaragua), and thus had to travel there while the buses still ran and while the sun was still in the sky. Not as exciting, as all we did was rest in the hotel room, watch TV, and walk to a nearby mall (to eat, play in the arcade, and watch Step Brothers (in English with Spanish subtitles)). Yea… kind of a downer at the end of the trip (besides Step Brothers, hilarious), but what are you going to do.
ere told (Hippie Hotel Owner, 2008))). After the 10 hours of traveling by bus that it took to get there, the trip was amazing.
First we arrived in León, a truly beautiful city boasting an impressive collection of churches, museums, and local markets (I probably read that somewhere in a guide book). The local Cathedral is the largest in all of Central America, and at the time of our visit they were in the process of restoring t
he impressive pictures of the Stations of the Cross. It was a truly remarkable sight. We visited several other churches in the areas, and even some ruins! (Alright, the ruins actually weren’t sweet at all… just an old church that had fallen into disrepair… don’t trust everything you read on a map). We didn’t spend too much time in León (maybe because all the museums were closed for the day when we got there, maybe because some nice beaches were only another hour away).So next we moved on to Las Peñitas. I’ve been to a few beaches in my life, and I can honestly say that this one was up there with the best of them. While not a place for the traveler looking for a place with “paved roads” or “active night life” or “other people,” it suited our needs just fine (also, we were there mid-week and arrived just before the busy holiday rush would come in, so that may have had something to do with it). Rega
rdless, the beach was amazing, and for $6 you could stay on the beach (literally on the beach). We stayed at the Playa Roca, and the guys who ran the place were awesomely entertaining. They even had a dog who would sing alo
ng to the music (she seemed most partial to Santana, though she would chime into most any song). We got a little history of the place, and apparently the town had been much bigger and much closer to the water about 20 years ago (and then a Tsunami came…), but it’s present state was exactly the sort of relaxing beach experience that I like. Reluctantly, after a couple of days we had to move on to our final destination.The last town we visited was Granada, honestly the nicest and most well-kept place I’ve come across in Central America (the rich gringos who buy homes and shops down here probably have something to do with that). The
colors of the city were so vivid. Most buildings were painted in very vibrant and active colors, and there was an energy in the town’s center which was present both during the day and night. For those of you not familiar with Nicaraguan geography, check it out. You might be surprised to see the presence of gigantic lake in the southern part of the country (I was). If you had a little money (i.e. not us) there were some amazing tours nearby that would bring you to the top of a nearby volcano, to variou
s islands in the aforementioned giant lake, or to a nearby lagoon set in the crater formed by an imploded volcano (I heard it compared (by other gringos) to a sight similar to the Grand Canyon). Anyways, limited by time and funds we were unable to take advantage of these landmarks but instead explored the city (and gazed at the volcano and islands from afar).I guess it wasn’t entirely accurate to say Granada was the last town we visited. We had a bus ride back to Honduras at 3:30am from Managua (capital of Nicaragua), and thus had to travel there while the buses still ran and while the sun was still in the sky. Not as exciting, as all we did was rest in the hotel room, watch TV, and walk to a nearby mall (to eat, play in the arcade, and watch Step Brothers (in English with Spanish subtitles)). Yea… kind of a downer at the end of the trip (besides Step Brothers, hilarious), but what are you going to do.
Copa Mudial
A momentous event happened a few weeks ago, the likes of which haven’t been seen by this country for quite some time: Honduras advanced from their group to qualify for the World Cup (well, actually they only qualified to advance to the next round of qualifying rounds of the World Cup, but the way they celebrated after the win, you would have thought they won the whole thing).
For those of you not following current World Cup play, it takes place in South Africa in 2010 (and don’t worry, the US is doing just fine). I guess I never really understood how intense people get about the world cup (minus a few soccer-playing friends in high school, I never really knew anyone who cared much for how the US did (probably because we always lose)). Anyways, people here treated every world cup qualifying game (mind you, only a game to qualify) as if it were a Superbowl-World Series-Olympics-NASCAR mezcla all rolled into one: shops closed, people came in from the aldeas to crowd around a TV with friends and families, the game was projected (by those with projection capabilities) onto any available wall, and by the time the game rolled around you would have thought that Talanga was a ghost town due to how empty and lifeless the streets were.
That all changed once Honduras beat Mexico 1-0 to classify for the next round. As the ref called for time people throughout the city erupted into celebration—a combination of people yelling\chanting\singing, (unsafe) fireworks exploding, and car horns honking (I would liken the sound more so to shrieking banshees). Before long, those same cars\people\fireworks filled the streets and became mobile, forming a caravan of noise that tore throughout the city. People would periodically jump into\out of this moving caravan of vehicles, and after observing the correct mounting and dismounting techniques for a moment, I followed my host dad’s lead and joined the parade of noise. I’ll try to get some videos up to provide a better idea of the chaos that ensued.
As a final note, the next qualifying round begins in February, and unfortunately, it turns out that the US and Honduras will be in the same group (that’s a lose-lose either way for us volunteers: either the US wins and everyone will be upset with us, or the US loses and everyone will not-so-kindly remind us of this). Only time will tell. I can say that I admire the passion these people have for their country and the people\teams that represent it in worldwide competitions.
For those of you not following current World Cup play, it takes place in South Africa in 2010 (and don’t worry, the US is doing just fine). I guess I never really understood how intense people get about the world cup (minus a few soccer-playing friends in high school, I never really knew anyone who cared much for how the US did (probably because we always lose)). Anyways, people here treated every world cup qualifying game (mind you, only a game to qualify) as if it were a Superbowl-World Series-Olympics-NASCAR mezcla all rolled into one: shops closed, people came in from the aldeas to crowd around a TV with friends and families, the game was projected (by those with projection capabilities) onto any available wall, and by the time the game rolled around you would have thought that Talanga was a ghost town due to how empty and lifeless the streets were.
That all changed once Honduras beat Mexico 1-0 to classify for the next round. As the ref called for time people throughout the city erupted into celebration—a combination of people yelling\chanting\singing, (unsafe) fireworks exploding, and car horns honking (I would liken the sound more so to shrieking banshees). Before long, those same cars\people\fireworks filled the streets and became mobile, forming a caravan of noise that tore throughout the city. People would periodically jump into\out of this moving caravan of vehicles, and after observing the correct mounting and dismounting techniques for a moment, I followed my host dad’s lead and joined the parade of noise. I’ll try to get some videos up to provide a better idea of the chaos that ensued.
As a final note, the next qualifying round begins in February, and unfortunately, it turns out that the US and Honduras will be in the same group (that’s a lose-lose either way for us volunteers: either the US wins and everyone will be upset with us, or the US loses and everyone will not-so-kindly remind us of this). Only time will tell. I can say that I admire the passion these people have for their country and the people\teams that represent it in worldwide competitions.
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