The Ignorant Tourist

4/19/14

En Route, The Pan-American Highway, Honduras

As we pass along The Pan-Americam Highway from one end of Honduras to the other, most likely nonstop, preparing to enter El Salvador whence I will depart back home, I can state that I am relieved for the trip to come to a close.  It has been thoroughly exhausting.  I brought pages of Aristotle readings and lots of business work, but I have not gotten any of it done.  The daytime drives have been too beautiful, while I have been too tired at night, only having time to write this entries before I took my naps.  We slept in a little bit, waking up at 8:30 AM, and we ordered a traditional Nicaraguan breakfast brought to the room.  It consisted of eggs, fried cheese, some kind of mashed sausage, and their traditional dish, pinto gallo (rice and beans with cream), along with, of course, really good coffee.  I had a few bites of the pinto gallo and scarfed down the rest.  It was a delicious first official meal in Nicaragua.  Our first stop of the day was the legislature building, which we found with no difficulty.  We took the pictures and made our way to the souvenir market.  Almost immediately, we were honked down by a police car.  Fernando had gone the wrong way down a one-way street.  The officer insisted that he show us the way to the souvenir market.  By insisted, I mean that he still had Fernando’s license and our car’s registration.  We didn’t have much a choice.  Fernando told me how much of a bribe to offer “para gasoline,” and I handed him the banknote.  The officer said it wasn’t enough.

In the end, we gave him two of those banknotes, enough for the two officers to buy themselves breakfast.  The souvenir market was perfect, and I got everything I needed, including an assortment of gifts for people back home and some coffee beans.  I took the wheel, and we headed to our first WHS of the day, the Ruins of Viejo Leon, an abandoned Spanish city.  During the drive, I managed to hit the magic 161 km/h after twice having to put on the breaks right at 160 km/h.  We were only stopped one time and let go right away.  We had some difficulty finding the site, but, soon enough, we found the entrance.  We parked our car and went towards the VC.  A security officer then uttered the dreaded word: “Cerrado.”  There had been an earthquake, and the site was closed off for safety reasons.  We had raced like maniacs to get to Tikal before it closed.  We had woken up at 5AM so that we could fit in Quirigua and Copan in the same day.  We had done untold damage to our car’s internal workings and driven on roads that were not meant to be driven on by a sedan to visit Rio Platano.  And now a little earthquake was going to stop me from saying CA-4 Complete?  I did not think so!

Not messing around, I offered him two American banknotes, one of which should have been more than enough.  To my shock, he turned me down.  Fernando begged the guy, saying that I had come all the way from New York to see this site, that I had wanted to see every WHS site in Central America and that this was my last, anything he thought might work.  I then offered him my entire wad of American banknotes, probably significantly more than he makes in a week.  He turned me down.  Fernando kept begging.  In the end, the security guard had his kid lead us to a place where we could see some ruins from the road.  We got to a poorly kept barbed wire fence, and I offered the kid one of the banknotes, which he begrudgingly accepted.  It was the nomination photo.  Technically, I should probably call them inscription photos.  We snuck in through the barbed wire fence, and I went inside one of the foundations to take a U.  Yes, reader, I took a U on 500-year-old foundations of a Spanish city.  Triumphantly, I lit up my Cohiba as we walked around.  We then saw another security coming towards us and hurried back to our car.  We had not yet taken a picture of me, just taking pictures of the site.  I knew that I needed that picture and that, once the security guard caught up with us, it would be too late, but he was in no hurry.  We got the pictures and snuck back out the fence.  The security guard told us to leave and walked away.  I told Fernando that, in the U.S., we could have gotten arrested for that.  Fernando excused himself to take a leak, and I told him that, in the U.S., we say to take a U.

I still had plenty of my cigar left, and we made our way to new Leon, the site of a Spanish cathedral and the last WHS of the trip.  We easily found the inscription photo, and I said “Nicaragua Complete,” adding that it was time to go smoke some cigars, since our next stop was Esteli.  As I did the past two days, once I said the Complete, I handed Fernando the keys.  There were plenty of souvenir stands by the cathedral, and I got a replica and some keychains, including one that had a picture of the inscription photo.  Not really on any kind of tight schedule, we stopped for our last cup of Nicaraguan coffee as I finished my Partagas.  We made our way to Esteli.  At one point, we mentioned that we didn’t want to get to the hotel at 3AM again.  I said that it was not the latest I ever arrived at a hotel, telling him my Budapest story.  We had set the location for Drew Estate into the GPS, so I lit up an Uzi, which was made by Drew Estate, as I began the story.  I am going to have to pause now, as writing on these bumpy and windy roads is making me nauseated.

Alright, I’m going to finish this so that I can take my nap.  I was a little unsure what we would find once we arrived at our destination, but I was not to be disappointed.  There was a huge cigar factory, but it was closed.  That did not stop us from taking a few pictures, and that was it.  Other than tomorrow’s legislature, I we had done everything I wanted and more.  We got some advice on where we could eat and where we could buy some cigars.  All I needed before I left Nicaragua was a Victoria beer and some fried chicken.  After quite a bit of searching, we found a place.  I ordered some wings, and he said that I could either get them breaded or spicy.  I didn’t want them either, but spicy was the lesser of two evils.  I also ordered some garlic shrimp and carne asada.  It was a lot of food, but I finished all the meat after wiping the sauce off the wings.  I didn’t understand why he couldn’t have just served me the unbreaded wings without sauce.

The place to buy cigars was down the block.  They didn’t have any Drew Estate cigars, but they did have Joya de Nicaragua, a brand that I like.  The cigars were very underpriced, but I didn’t feel like buying a box, since I already had too many cigars.  I instead opted for a nicely packaged 3-pack called Celebration, since I was in a celebratory mood.  I lit up the cigar, put our hotel in the GPS, and we were on our way.  The nausea is now getting the better of me, so I think that I will close and treat the entirety of the drive and our two border crossings once I get to San Salvador, as has become a tradition the past few days.  If I am feeling up to it, I will do the philosophy section once we get over the Honduras/El Salvador border, but I am going to try for a nap now.

En route, The Pan-American Highway, El Salvador

The theme of tonight’s entry will be the ignorant tourist.  Reader, I am never the ignorant tourist.  I do not embark on a trip anywhere without learning the local customs, what to do and what not to do, how to get in to and stay out of trouble.  I am always fully prepared, knowing exactly what I want to do and where I want to go.  That said, I am not afraid to ask for directions.  I am not hesitant to hire a guide if I am at all uneasy or unsure, even if it is just as a safety net so that I’m not alone and that I have someone to share in the driving and help me through the finer intricacies of local customs.  I received far more value from Fernando as a cultural interpreter than I did from him teaching me about the sites.  The most value of course came from the extra body in potentially unsafe areas and someone to do the nighttime driving.  The GPS helped us with directions more than his instinct, and I had already done my own research on each site.  I will be giving him a very generous tip tomorrow, and the value he has provided has far exceeded his fee.  He is, by far, the best tour guide I have ever had, and I will never have a better tour guide.

When I go to Costa Rica, I am considering hiring him and paying for him to meet me there.  I probably won’t need as much help with the driving, and it is a much safer country, so I will likely just do it on my own, just as I could have done this trip on my own.  I’m sure I could have worked the trip so that I could have gotten 6 hours of sleep a night, especially if I had cut back on the time for meals and stops, as I would have done on my own.  My Spanish is decent enough that I didn’t need a translator, but it was nice to have some help there.  I arrived at SAL, fully prepared to be stood up, ready to do the trip on my own if need be.  With his companionship, I had no problem playing the part of the ignorant tourist.  I had no problem letting him order for me, deal with the police and border crossings, ask around for souvenirs, etc.  I could have done all of that on my own.

I am used to the look I receive from the locals.  A white guy wearing a suit walks into a Central American town, and everyone stares.  It is not quite that they are looking down on me, but it was as if they were looking at me, challenging me to look down on them.  It is a very familiar look.  I will never look down on someone who works hard to make a living for himself and/or his family, as most of the people do here.  I will certainly look down on someone who is lazy and looks to the government for support or who thinks the world owes them something, but that is not the case here.  I’m smarter, cleverer, more rationally thinking than most people, but to extend that to imply that I think I am better than someone is too much of a reach.  In fact, I believe that most people here are extremely hard-working, and I respect them for that.  I wish that that was a more common work ethic here.  I know too many people that are not hard-working, that are very lazy, that think the world owes them something, and I look down on them for that.

I do not look down on people who lack intelligence, so long as they use the intelligence they have.  I do look down on people who do not think rationally, who prefer superstition and ignorance to logic and fact.  Why do I mention all of this?  It is because of that look I get when I get out of the car wearing my suit (or even not wearing it), that look daring me to look down on them.  When we got to one checkpoint, the officer insisted I was on a business trip.  When Fernando told me about that, I said that he should have told the officer that I wear the suit because I look good in it, and it’s true.  I also love the irony of hiking in the suit, and I have ever since the Masada dare.  It is such a classic picture for me to be on some hiking trail, somewhere in nature, wearing the suit, smoking a Cuban, holding my water bottle, taking a selfie.  Now, with the uniform challenge, always wearing the same shirt, it will be even more iconic.  I’m surprised that Fernando didn’t say anything, especially since I made a point of picking out my shirt for the morning in front of him while still wearing the same shirt.  Other than the day in Guatemala where we didn’t cross any borders, I have worn the identical outfit every day.  Tomorrow, I will wear my departure outfit, so that will be a little bit of a change.

Nothing more clearly says tourist than wearing a dark suit in 100F weather.  As we were driving, I remarked that it had hit 100F, and Fernando said that he saw some people wearing jeans.  I responded that some people were wearing a dark suit, a joke he appreciated, understanding the aesthetic appeal I saw in it.  As I have said, Fernando has been the perfect tour guide, taking everything in stride, no challenge too great, no plan too ambitious, catering to my every whim, and making sure that my trip went as perfectly as possible.  In addition, he is smart, hard-working, and ambitious.  If he were a woman, he would be my ideal match.  Rand says that we should look for the same thing in our platonic relationships as we do in romantic relationships.

Over the past five days, I have come to consider Fernando a friend.  He is not “my tour guide.”  He is “Fernando.”  He is a rule human being with a girlfriend, a daughter, and ambitions.  He is not just someone I have hired for a week as an employee.  That said, he has made an excellent audience for my stories, and I have pretty much related every travel adventure I’ve had over the past year or so to him.  I know which stories fall flat and which ones bear repeating.  Other than Stuart and my family, I have never spent so much concentrated time with one person, so it is good that we got along so well.  The most we ever spent apart was 30 minutes while he called his girlfriend, and I worked on my Travelogue.  Even with Stuart and my family, we sent more time apart than that.

This trip would not have been the same without Fernado.  I will not explore how the trip might have failed or succeeded with or without him, as that is more properly in the scope of the final entry, but I will say that I could not have played the part of the ignorant tourist.  In Panama, I had to play the part of the shrewd traveler, negotiating when need be, interacting with the authorities, testing the limits of my Spanish, trying to fit in the best I could.  With Fernando, that was not necessary.  I had prepared myself the best I could for whatever I would face, but, in the end, I just played the part of the ignorant tourist, fading into the background, pretending not to understand any Spanish, and just offering money when needed.

A little bit of money goes a long way in these countries, and I was shocked by how far my budget extended.  Other than cigars, I came in under budget, and I will only need to spend money tomorrow on food and a tank of gas.  The cigars will last a long time, so that money will be recouped.  I spent far less on food than I could have expected.  I think that in my 5 days of constant souvenir shopping, I might have spent less than I spent at Stonehenge, certainly less than I spent at Edinburgh and Stonehenge combined.  Yes, I walked away from 4 countries and 8 souvenir shops, spending less than I did at 2 WHS in the UK.  I certainly bought more souvenirs here, as well.  I could have haggled, but the prices were so cheap, I didn’t bother.  I don’t know if all the souvenirs will fit into my suitcase, and I might have to buy a bigger bag, but I think I can make it work.

During my Eurotrip, I knew exactly what I was doing.  When I went to Iran, I fit right in, people talking Farsi to me while I nodded along before walking away.  When I go to Canada, no one knows the difference.  I can be anywhere in the U.S., and people ask me for directions, thinking I’m a local.  In Central America, I now have these two trips to compare.  I can fit in, or I can be the ignorant tourist.  While there is certainly more merit to the former, with a guide as good as Fernando, it is nice to relax sometimes and be the ignorant tourist.  In Japan, I expect that a white face will hardly be out of place, and I will just look like the typical business traveler.  In Alaska, it will just be like the U.S. or Canada.  My birthday trip will be the interesting one.  I will be going to someplace that doesn’t quite speak Spanish, but I will be able to get by on my broken Spanish.  I will be wearing my suit the whole time, but that will not be out of place there.  I won’t quite look like a local, nor will I be the ignorant tourist.  In India, I will probably hire a guide and be the ignorant tourist.  When I go to Antarctica, I will be on a big cruise ship, so we’ll all be ignorant tourists, but in Buenos Aires and Montevido, I will try to fit in.  On my next trips to Central American and the Caribbean, I will not try to avoid seeming the tourist, nor will I pretend to be ignorant.  There is a time and place to be the ignorant tourist, and this trip was the time, CA-4 was the place.  My H. Upmann is almost done, and I want another nap, so I will close on that note.

San Salvador, El Salvador

Just as last night, I should probably slap a new date on this entry, since, when I opened my eyes in the car, it was 12:10 AM, but I think I was awake for 10 minutes before that.  Either way, I am about to sleep for 8 hours, so I’m not going to reset the date yet.  Before I recall the drive, I forgot something that happened in Esteli.  Fernando had given me his extra unit quetzal banknotes.  When I went to pay for the cigars, I had taken out that pack of banknotes.  Among these worthless quetzals, I saw a very large American banknote.  It was clearly one of the two banknotes I had given him when we first met.  Almost immediately, I realized that I couldn’t keep it.  It was Fernando’s, and I was going to tip him at least two more of those banknotes, so was I going to reuse one of the banknotes I had already given him as his tip?  That seemed so ridiculous.  He had earned his tip, and I was under no obligation to give him something, so what was the point then of keeping it only to give it back to him as a tip?  When we got in the car, I took out the quetzals and gave it back to him.

The drive from Esteli to San Salvador was long, boring, and completely unadventurous.  I don’t think we got stopped once.  In fact, other than the borders, the only time we stopped was for a coffee and a snack at a gas station just past the Salvadorian border.  The Nicaragua/Honduras border was quite a hassle, taking us 45 minutes, but the Honduras/El Salvador border was a breeze taking less than 15 minutes and not requiring any paperwork on either side.  I had budgeted a total of an hour for border crossing, so we were good.  It seemed as if, on our way to Nicaragua, each border crossing became more and more difficult.  On the way back, each one got easier.  The roads in Nicaragua and El Salvador were good, but the Honduras road was bumpy and windy.  I asked Fernando to imagine if the whole trip was like that, and he said it would be amazing.  I said that that was not what I meant, and he reminded me of the roads we had taken yesterday.  When we finally crossed into El Salvador, we stopped at the gas station.  I was very hungry, and, because I'm a world traveler on the Atkin’s diet, always seeking his next adventure, I had a very questionable hot dog at a Salvadoran gas station.  It was cold and inedible.  I found a microwave.  Now it was just inedible.  The diet 7UP was good, though.  We got back in the car, and I lit up my H. Upmann as I wrote the previous entry.

I fell asleep and woke up in San Salvador.  We made our way to the hotel, I shoved some souvenirs in my suitcase, carrying the rest.  I will need to repack tomorrow, but I’ll have plenty of time.  In fact, I can sleep in as late as I want, the limiting reactant being that they stop serving breakfast at 10AM, but I’m not setting my alarm.  I was starving when we got to the hotel, so I asked if they had room service?  They did not, but Fernando wanted to go back to his apartment and offered to pick me up something on the way, which turned out to be McDonald’s, two quarter pounders with bacon, cheese, no bread, to be precise.  He had suggested McDonald’s, and I had agreed.  He got back 30 minutes later, and I had already lit up my Avo.  As I scarfed down the burgers, he asked if I wanted to celebrate 4/20 with him.  I turned him down, saying that I would at 4:20 PM tomorrow but that it would just make me hungry again now.  After I ate, I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish, finish my cigar, and get some sleep.  Tomorrow, I should say, “CA-4 Complete,” and then embark on The Journey Home.