Yesterday was the worst day on this trip. We drove from Rio Dulce to Copan, and the border crossing was short and sweet. We finally got to Copan, and Fiona and I split up and promise to meet back at the car at a certain time. By then, I was pretty tired of her, so I was seriously thinking about just dumping her there. Anyway, I did my tour through and there was this one ruin where they’re protecting it with a huge declining canvas. There’s literally about 3 feet of walkway on the other side, with stone seats on it, and a couple standing stones in front of it and steps leading up behind it. I’m walking through and suddenly, a man takes out his camera to take a picture of his little girl, so I start running forward to get out of the way. I don’t get very far, because apparently, they put thin wires about knee high to tell you to stay away. Well, these wires are so thin but strong that I ran into it and it stopped me cold. I stump foward, and break the fall with my camera lens sticking out.
I’m not a very big fan of Copan.
Ran into a teacher named Jeremy in Copan. He was a teacher in Arizona, now teaching in Honduras for a few weeks. He started the conversation by saying, “You drove down here from California?” I liked his calm demeanor. I was done talking to him, asking about Honduras and Nicaragua. I was clearly trying to drive out when Fiona suddenly opens the door and tries to strike a new conversation with him. This is all very awkward, and I figure she likes him, and she later tells me that she thought he was cute. Obviously.
We drove to Tegucigalpa, me pretty upset and turning up the music and taking the turns quickly. That place was a confusing heap of mess. But there were virtually no tourists there, save for this one English girl named Sharon at the hostel we stayed out. Turns out she was also heading to Nicaragua, so I took her in. I’m glad I did because she was fairly interesting, knew how to read maps well, and didn’t care about the fact that she was rounding up to a dollar for the amount of money I was asking of her to pay for the trip. She was good company. She liked to hike, was an occupational therapist, and 34, loves mountains, been to Australia, South America, and now Central America.
Today we drove from Tegucigalpa, Honduras, to Leon, Nicaragua. Sharon told me the difference between England, Great Britain (+Scotland and Wales) and United Kingdom (+Northern Ireland), and how Southern Ireland is not part of that entity. That was good for me because I never could figure it out.
The border crossing was very different. As soon as we started approaching Nicaragua from Honduras, about 20 people started running towards us, asking us if we need help. One guy who spoke very good English tells us he doesn’t want any money, just some tip, and will show us how to do the paperwork. I tell him no thanks, that I will try to do it on my own. I roll up the window and start driving away at a decent pace, and I see throug my mirrors that all of them are running after me.
And it turns out to be a very simple process. Migration for both countries were right next to each other (as in, I exited out of Honduras and the official didn’t even bother handing me the passport, he passed it over to the Nicaraguan official right next to him), so I did that quickly. Then around the corner, I turned in and checked out my vehicle from Honduras. Next, we came to a stop where the official said I checked out of Honduras alright, but didn’t check my vehicle into Nicaragua. So I turn back, and find the official to fill out some paperwork and permit. More money. I go back, and the official lets me through. But there’s another one about 25 meters beyond this checkpoint, who stops me and asks me for a copy of the paperwork that Nicaragua official just typed up for me. He tells me I can get a copy at a shack nearby. I go there only to find out that the entire shack was manned by one person with about 2-3 copy machines. He was trying to conserve electricity and had everything turned off. Reluctant to turn the power on for one copy but feeling sorry for me, he goes around the back, turns electricity on, and makes me 2 copies. I was free to go after that.
I decide to venture out because I can’t find a camera worthy enough to buy in Nicaragua. Electronics are very expensive here. But I need to fix my car as well. So I’m gonna try and see if I can’t do all of that tomorrow or the next day. So I drove down here to San Juan del Sur (which I think is overrated, just might be a decent place to surf but other than that, I’ve seen better, plus the roads leading to it just suck really, really bad.). I’m paying for the location here more than anything, but I wanted to reward myself for getting this far. Plus…
Fiona jumped off the caravan today. Today marked the 10th day that I had her stick around with me. It’s nice to have someone along for the ride, but I am regretting the fact that I ever brought her in with me. After that experience, I do not believe I will ever take anyone else along for a ride longer than the next town.
Why? Because she was quite possibly one of the most pretentious, stubborn, and ignorant women I’ve ever met in my life.
(Upon entering Guatemala) “I recognize some of the gas stations here. ‘Shell,’ do you have that in the US? I recognize Esso, have you ever seen that before?” (this is after her knowing I was in Kuwait for the longest time)
(When driving at 9800 feet in Guatemala trying to keep a good pace by driving behind a truck) “You may want to slow down a bit, since trucks can stop faster than you. (what do you mean?) Well, see they’re lower to the ground, so they can stop faster. (I tell her about p=mv, and how what she just said is bullshit, not in those words, but she gets the point). Well, all I’m trying to say is that visibility is low right now, so you may want to slow down.”
(Upon seeing a little chicken crossing a road en route to Tikal) Shrieks: “OOH! LITTLE CHICKEN!!!” Scares the shit out of me.
(Describing her enlightening experience in Africa) “You can just tell that the government is corrupt because the roads are so crappy.” I ask her how she knows that, wondering if she’s really into politics, and she says, “Well, other countries give Africa money to build up roads, and the presidents just pocket the money.” (I ask her which countries) “Well, you know, like European and Australian and even America.” (Later in Nicaragua): “The roads here are so crappy Nicaragua belongs in Africa. Not like Nigeria or anything, (which she’s never been to), but yeah.”
(Upon seeing soccer game on plasma TV in a Chinese Restaurant in Tegucigalpa, Honduras): “Soccer’s really become popular in Australia since the World Cup. (I ask her to elaborate since World Cup’s been around for a long time.) Well, I mean since the last World Cup. We were so into it, since we went to the Finals. We played Italy. (I was surprised, not having known that) Well, I don’t mean like the Final final, but we got to the semi finals or at least the top 16 or something, because we’ve never gone that far up before. But soccer is so much a sport of skills…”
(In Palenque, talking about the eptoptic pregnancy) It’s like a baby that doesn’t grow in the uterus but instead grows in the tubes. (What tubes?) I don’t know the name of it, but you know, one of the tubes. (This is the first time I’ve ever run across a woman who doesn’t know the name of the Fallopian tubes).
(I talk about how I’ve never put on sunscreen since I left) “Well, if you were in Australia, you could get skin cancer for standing outside for 10, 20 minutes and you could die. The ozone layer there is so thin that it’s lethal. (I tell her I heard about that, and ask her if it’s just South Australia or all of Australia). She looks confused and says, “I think all of Australia. (I tell her that Ozone layers are thinning around the poles, so I doubt it’s that much worse in Northern Australia) Oh is that how that works? Well, I guess just South Australia then.”
(Talking to this American teacher named Jeremy in Copan, Honduras) “How did you like Copan?” (I liked it a lot, he says) “Have you ever been to Tikal? Oh, you definitely gotta go. Copan is shit.” I tell her later that it’s almost offensive to tell a stranger that something they paid $15 bucks to enter is shit, and she says, “well, in Australia, shit is just like, you know, crap. It’s not meant to be offensive.” I tell her he’s an American, so he may not take it that way. “Well, I’m just saying, in Australia, saying shit isn’t offensive.”
(Still talking about how she knew Copan would be shit) “I was alarmed when we came in and they wrote down our passport countries and numbers. I took a peek at the book and I saw that there was no Aussies here. And that’s when I knew it would be shit. See, us Aussies do our research about where to go.”
(I talk about how the 2 borders we crossed, Mexico-Guatemala-Honduras, was almost too easy) “Well, what did you expect? (I tell her that I heard horror stories). Jeez, it really won’t be that bad. Stop worrying about it.” (We cross Honduras-Nicaragua, which nearly takes about 1.5 hours, and I tell her see, what did I tell you?) Silence.
(Talking about how driving is really scary in Africa) “(certain city in South Africa) is notorious for crimes against touring drivers. (I ask her why she along with her 2 other female buddies would rent a car in that city and drive around at night, knowing this) Well, we were actually never in that city. We went around it at daytime, but it was still quite scary.”
(I ask her what she wanted to be when she grew up) “I just wanted to get married and raise a family.”
(I tell her I’m going to ask this tourist looking guy how to get to Copan, because the signs ended and we had come to a T intersection) “He’s only a tourist, how is he going to know?” The man, from New Orleans, tells us impeccable directions and we get there in a few minutes. Silence.
(Upon seeing the big blue sign that says TIKAL) “Tikal, to the right.” I reply, “You think?” I wouldn’t have said that or would be writing this if it happened once, twice, or three times. She did this several times during our journey, when the signs were so clear and in big bold letters that it was almost offensive.
(Upon figuring out that we went a little too far from a road in Guatemala in trying to get to Copan) “Oh well, shit happens.” (Until just 30 minutes prior to, she was telling me which highways to take and took the map to navigate, but later during the drive I found out she fell asleep or just closed her eyes and never bothered to tell me that I need to take another highway soon thereafter.)
(Talking about the Dutch tourist that died while trying to assist an Australian chick being assaulted) “Australians are really hospitable people. They wouldn’t have just stood around.” (I ask her if she was part of the crowd, she would have helped) “No, because guys would be better suited to help.” (I tell her that it’s not just a culture thing, it’s actually distribution of responsibility, something I learned in Social Psychology, where more people = less likelihood that a person in clear distress wouuld be helped.) “Yeah, I could see how that could be, but Australians are still really hospitable.”
(Sharon says she thought I said oeste, not este, while driving in Leon, Nicaragua, while looking for directions) “It’s [Elliott’s] accent.” (I tell her that e in spanish is pronounced like an eh, not a ee, because she kept pronouncing it eestee.) Silence.
(While I’m trying to change my money at the Honduras-Nicaraguan border) She hands me a 200 of whatever denomination and says, “so now I owe you,” I tell her to stop because I can only do one thing at a time, trying to change money and keep my papers in order. She backs off.
(While I’m trying to figure out how to get out of Guatemala into Honduras) The guy tells me which stations to go to in which order, and asks me if I need to change my money from Dollars or Quetzales. Although he’s clearly talking to me, and I try to say Quetzales, Fiona jumps in and says, “Dollars.” (No, I need to change Quetzales.) “Yeah, but only thing I’ve got are dollars.” Sigh…
(Talking about all the windy roads in Honduras) “This reminds me of Tazi. (I tell her I remember her saying that only the highway from the center to the west of Tazmania is curvy and everything else is straight.) Yeah…” (I tell her that she should be used to the curviness of the roads then, and she still complained about it.)
(Talking about her home country, Tazmania) “Yeah, Tazmania is beautiful” (talking to Sharon, the tourist who hiked in South Tazmania) “Oh that part of country I’ve never been to.” (I ask her how far away that place is from where she lives) “Well, it’s really windy, so maybe 2 hours away?”
“I don’t eat meat. I only eat ham, bacon, chicken, and fish. But I don’t eat roast beef or lamb or pork.”
(Talking about people and their jobs in general) “Yeah, I really don’t understand people who work all day everyday for a job they don’t even like. I mean, why do something you don’t like?” (When describing what she does to other tourists, she says the following almost verbatim) “I do a little bit of everything. I do waitressing, secretary work, and I sometimes work on tours.”
(Having entered Guatemala) “I need to find a Lonely Planet.” (X 10000000 times until she gets one in Antigua). And when we exit the city, she says “see, we didn’t get lost because I had my Lonely Planet.” Actually, I had my GPS tell me what road the van driver for the Volcan Pacaya trip took and retraced it. She never talked about not getting lost after entering Guatemala City, where we got lost for 40 minutes, even with her Lonely Planet.
(In San Cristobal de las Casas, on our way back to the hostel) “It’s about 3-4 blocks down this way. (She points in the wrong direction, and I ask her “are you sure, because I’m sure it’s 4 blocks down this way.”) I’m sure. Let’s go.” We enter a neighborhood without lights, pedestrians, or cars. “OK I’m lost.” I lead her back to the hostel, and ask her what she would have done without me. “Oh, I would have had my Lonely Planet with me, so I would have been ok.” We had walked a total of perhaps 7-8 blocks away from the hostel, perhaps .15 km worth or walking.
She got lost again after the van from Volcan Pacaya drops us off at the Zocalo of Antigua, not at our hostel. I had to lead her back.
(I ask her about how the elevation looks on the map of where we’re going to) “How can you tell?” I’m only writing all of this down because she’s fairly proud of the fact that she did 6 months in the middle east/africa and 9 months in Europe. It’s impressive, sure. So I naturally thought she’d know how to at least read a map and not get lost so easily.
(Talking about her Australian friend who is deploying to Iraq) “The war’s really unpopular with Australia. (I ask her how many troops they have stationed there). I think we have like 10,000 troops there. He’s already in his second 6 month tour!!” I didn’t tell her that many American troops are in their 2nd or 3rd 15 month tours.
Her high pitched voice and the fact that she truly believes the stories to things she doesn’t know about is how I will remember her. She thought very highly of herself, which is very surprising because seeing how she’s 36, she doesn’t seem to be doing very well physically.