Following a spell of aimlessly ambling about America and to avoid some complications we had brewing with the US authorities (a small matter of overstaying various visas and whatnot), my girlfriend and I decided to travel to Nicaragua.
Equipped with just a point-and-shoot camera, a grasp of Spanish that was pidgin at very best, and various warnings from some of the more cautious Yanks we knew to try and avoid getting kidnapped and/ or beheaded by wild, godless and drug-addled crimelords, we fell off the plane into the sprawling barrios that make up Managua – where Nicaragua met us head on.
One evening, whilst sitting out on the street eating ice cream, we saw a taxi driver pull a gun on a kid riding a moped who had cut him up (figuratively, in the road sense, rather than literally, in the machete-sense).
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Fortunately, we ourselves were only threatened with mutilation once, having inadvertently wandered off path whilst climbing up into the hills surrounding the capital city. Which made for a rather unpleasant walk back into town.
Hasta Colina, baby (up the hill, baby)!
– Dave
Previously from Dave Bevan: Fuck the Dumbshit – America’s Human Weirdness
