Hi y'all,

with less than a month to go in my year in Latin America, I am now in
El Salvador. This smallest of all Central American countries is quite
an exciting place. At the moment, hardly any tourists come here, so
I've had some cool travel experiences. I will probably write a
message about this later, maybe even today. Now I would like to use
this unexpected access to a real computer to type in the New Year
message I promised you. So here we go...

NEW YEAR IN NICARAGUA

This story will include a few sexual references, so if you can't
handle that, just skip this message. If you can, just sit back and
enjoy another interesting travel experience of little innocent Veit
in big bad Latin America...:-)

New Year's Eve has, you might have guessed it, also some significance
for me, not quite like Christmas, but still I try to have an
interesting "Rutsch" (slide) into the New Year. My favourite place
for this in Germany is my grandparents' place in Radebeul next to
Dresden in East Germany. The house is situated on the foot of the
slope that is the boundary of the Elbe valley, and you have a view
over all of Dresden from there. I love spending a relaxed evening
there and then enjoying the spectacular view of all the fireworks in
the valley at midnight.

However, in the last few years I haven't been there too often, spent
one New Year's Eve in Charleston, South Carolina, one in a cabin in
Norway, one in France (all with Dan), one at the Pyramids in Egypt
(with Lucía 1999-2000). Last year I was in Radebeul though.

Anyway, this year it was to be Nicaragua. I wasn't quite sure what to
do, as I did not know any people there. So I decided I would try to
get to Granada, the main traveler town in the country, to get to know
some fellow far-away-from-homees, and party with them, or maybe go to
Managua, the capital, if there was any spectacular celebrations to be
had.

On the afternoon of the 30th, I am standing on the road with my thumb
out, after visiting a smoking volcano. The idea is to go to a
beautiful lake to camp for the night, and the next day head for
Granada or Managua to get ready for the big night.

A pick-up pulls over, and I jump on the back. On there a little boy
of maybe four, a fat old man with a few teeth missing, a cute girl
around 20, and a little man with long hair and mustache in his
thirties. He isn't wearing any t-shirt and apparently really drunk.
Still, from the moment I get on there, he has my sympathies. He
starts talking to me in some very basic English, while the girl is
laughing about him, she doesn't seem to believe that he speaks
English.

I'll have to cut a bit here, otherwise we'll never get to the New
Year. We exchange the usual small talk, and they tell me that they
are on a trip to show Edgar's wife's sister and her family around.
(Edgar is the half-naked drunk, the boy his kid, and fat old man his
father. The girl, Johanna, is a friend who came along.) They live in
Miami and are driving in a car right behind us.

It doesn't take long and they invite me to come along, and later they
could also take me back to Managua, that's where they are from, where
I could camp somewhere close to their house. I am happy to accept, I
like them and I have come to really enjoy spontanteneous changes of
plans and signs of hospitality from people I meet on this voyage. I
have time, and my plans are never cast iron.

We drive through Granada and head for the shore of Lake Nicaragua.
Here, they hire a boat that takes us around the dozens of islands for
a couple of hours. It is a very beautiful area, most of the small
islands are inhabited, little houses, villas, restaurants. If you
have ever had the dream of buying your own island, this might be the
place. Edgar takes care of me, we talk a bit, as much as his alcohol
level permits. He is the only one that is drunk, which seems a bit
weird on a family outing.

After the islands we stop at the Parque Central, the central square
of Granada, it is night by now. The Miami people take a horse
carriage ride around the colonial centre, while Edgar, his dad, the
driver and I hang around the car and the Parque. Ah yes, I forgot to
introduce the driver of our pick-up, a guy my age who is really
weird, big mouth, but no brain it seems. I try to stay away from him.

I have a look around and talk to Edgar. The bells of the cathedral
start to ring, mass is over. Edgar jumps behind the car and aims an
imaginary gun at the bell tower. Then he does a perfect roll and
continues shooting. When he has finished he comes over to me and
starts talking. Some of the most moving minutes of this journey
follow.

He did his military service in the Civil War, he tells me. Nicaragua
experienced one of the most notorious wars in Latin America, after
the left-wing Sandinistas had gained control of the country in a
revolution in 1978/9, they were fought by right-wing, US-
backed "contras" until the beginning of the 90s.

I don't know nearly enough about those years to really make some
judgmental comments, but it is quite clear that a lot of the hate
many people in Latin America feel for the United States results from
the meddling of this superpower in affairs it should have stayed far
away from, as in the case of Nicaragua.

It probably doesn't merit a separate message, but it is quite amazing
to see how many Latin Americans actually feel the US deserved the
attacks in September. There is so much distrust down here, probably
owing to the past. It is not just a few voices that make up
conspiracy theories, I've even heard that the US took down the World
Trade Center themselves to create a new enemy, the Arab world.

Of course I don't believe in crazy opinions like that, but I thought
it might be interesting for you to hear that this is a very
widespread line of thought here. It is mainstream opinion, and you
wouldn't believe how often I have heard the name Osama-bin-Laden on
the streets here, even people calling me that (I have a little beard
at the moment). He is becoming a hero here. Human stupidity has no
limits, so let's get back to Edgar in the Parque Central of Granada.

He served for two years in the government forces (the Sandinistas),
when he was 17-19. In the Northern jungle, fighting the contras. Two
terrible years, he tells me.

I ask him, if he killed anyone in those years, and his eyes start to
fill with tears. Yes, five men. It was an order from his commander,
that bastard. And they gave him three stripes on his arm for this. He
will regret it for the rest of his life. It is in his head, and he
still thinks about those men. His own countrymen. They were taking
measurements with a map to position the artillery, and he and a few
men just shot them, there in the forest. He will never forget. And
now he only wants peace, for himself, but more for his children, his
beautiful children.

You know, it is impossible to transmit this in a text message. Tears
were rolling from his eyes, it took him a long time to tell me all
this. I don't know how often he repeated the gesture of putting three
stripes on this arm. I have often had the desire to report some
things I see on my travels with a camera, actually foreign
correspondent for one of the German TV stations was always one of my
dream jobs.

What I witnessed that night in the Parque Central of Granada was the
most moving pledge for peace you could ever see. This little
sympathetic man crying, because he killed in the Civil War. And
repeating over and over that all he wants now is peace, and how much
he regrets having killed those men. If I had the power to, I would
send him around all the schools of this planet so he could tell his
story and teach children the love for peace he carries within himself.

It was such an emotional scene, that even if I had wanted to, I could
hardly just leave him, thanks for the ride and see you later. But
what he tells me about the place where I could camp in Managua does
sound a bit funny, they have some kind of business, there is a
watchman there, it would be safe. But there would also be many
prostitutes. The people from Miami ask me three times, if I really
want to go there. But no, I can't just take off now, so I go to
Managua with them, the supposedly terrible and very dangerous capital
of Nicaragua.

After a couple of hours ride through the night and a long stretch of
Managua we arrive at "Subasta", the place where I would spend the
night. We get off, and now I realize what their business is - scrap
metal. Basically, I will be camping between huge piles of rusting
junk. And we are in one of the worst parts of town, next to a big
intersection. Right in front of the place lots of prostitutes wait
for clients. Welcome to paradise.

It will be an eye-opening night. First, Edgar gives me the tour of
the place, and shows me where I could camp, a bit in the back, next
to his two sheep. They have to be fed now, so we take them, cross the
street where there is a bit of grass. He ties them to the fence. Just
standing in the grass for a minute, my legs start to burn like crazy -
ants. I jump around getting rid off them, and notice that the sheep
are not too happy either, moving their legs like crazy.

Edgar buys me an enchilada from a nearby stall, while his family
takes off, leaving him behind - they live 45 minutes away. Not too
happy a marriage, it seems. We hang around with the watchman for a
while, he is sitting in the entrance area of the junkyard, watching
TV all night, it's actually cable TV!

After a while, Edgar decides that he wants to go home now - he has a
taxi there that he rents out. I try to convince him that it is not a
very good idea to drive, drunk as he is. Finally, after showing him
my licence, I convince him to let me drive. I am a bit relieved when
he changes his mind, he now doesn't want to go home, just to visit an
aunt who lives nearby. I was not too happy with the thought of
driving around Managua for 45 minutes by myself after having dropped
him.

So we get into the taxi and head off. While he gives me directions, I
contemplate about these crazy experiences when traveling. In the
afternoon I am standing on the road going to a peaceful lake, and
just a few hours later I drive a taxi around nocturnal Managua, with
a little drunk man on the passenger seat.

The visit to his boring aunt's place fortunately doesn't take too
long, and soon we are back at Subasta, which is actually the name of
the barrio, the area there. We watch TV, and it doesn't take too long
until the first prostitutes show up. They come there to have a chat,
to relax a bit with them, and for more as I was soon to learn.

I greet some of them, and they make remarks about my beautiful eyes
and hair. Well, it is not the most comfortable situation with Edgar
and the watchman making comments that I could just fuck them for
free. Having sex with those prostitutes is about the last thing I
would want, but also I can't just ignore them, or be rude, since I do
feel quite a lot of sympathy for these women. So I play little
innocent Veit, ignoring most of the comments, and just saying hello.

I guess a few general remarks about prostitution would be in place
here. I have always had a problem with the thought of paying for sex,
it just is not something that fits into my view of relations between
men and women. On the other hand, prostitution is very normal in many
countries, especially here in Latin America. So I think the steps we
are taking in Germany are right, prostitution has to be legalized and
the women protected as much as possible. Other than that it is just a
part of life. But not one I intend to participate in.

I've never had any experiences with prostitution, men here certainly
talk a lot about it, and the term puta is probably the most used one
in the Spanish language after hijo de puta. Still, if I remember
right, I had never even talked to a prostitute.

(Wow, just have to add something here, the message is already
written. Talked to my host here in El Salvador for a moment about
prostitution, and it really seems that in Latin America it is quite
normal for parents to send their teen sons to prostitutes, "para que
no se hacen maricon", as he told me, so they don't become gay. I've
heard that on some other occasions before.)

Well, the driver of the pick-up, which I had tried to stay away from
before, is hanging out with us as well. A young, but pretty ugly
prostitute arrives, and I see the two of them talking. Actually,
before they disappear into some part in the back of the junkyard,
again all of the men encourage me to take my turn. No thanks.

After a while the two come back. I am curious, so I talk to crazy
guy. They had oral sex, he tells me. I ask him, if he actually liked
the girl - no, but it's still like being close to heaven. How much
did you pay? 20 cordobas. That's about a dollar and a half.

I feel really sorry for the girl, who is working in this part of
Managua at night giving blowjobs to guys like this to survive. The
poverty in Latin America is unbelievable, I had not realized it that
much, but in Nicaragua it was present where ever I went, maybe
because I was traveling "on the street" without any middle or upper
class friends or contacts.

Later an old woman arrives, a few teeth are missing. Her face is
friendly, and she might actually not be that old, just aged too
quickly. She is also a prostitute, and this time the old watchman
takes his turn. After a while crazy guy disappears in the back as
well, and Edgar is gone after some time, too. When they come back, I
am pretty disgusted, they had all taken their turn at the old
prostitute. It is hard to believe, Edgar definitely is not
unattractive, he must be able to get women if he is tired of his
wife. Still, he is taking the opportunity with this poor old woman.
Sad world.

It is definitely an interesting night for me, I keep my eyes and ears
open, watch a movie and kill some of the mosquitoes that are swarming
around us. At 4:30 or so I have seen enough and decide to put up my
tent in the back to catch a few hours of sleep.

In the morning I am woken up by all the people stopping by to see the
gringo in his casita. When I can't take it anymore, I decide to get
up. I peek out of my little side windows to see what's going on. I
see Edgar's son, who has a paper and some matches in his hand. What
could he want with that? It becomes clear when he approaches my tent
with the lit paper in his hand. Bastard! I shout something loudly,
and scared, he drops the paper. I can't believe it, what a stupid
kid, the tent would have burnt down in a few seconds, with me inside.
I am really glad I was not asleep anymore.

I get up and pack my stuff together. The plan is to visit the center
of Managua and be back in the afternoon - they will have a party for
the workers at the scrapyard and Edgar promises me that we will
continue to party until midnight, no matter where. So I decide that
they will be the people I will spend New Year's Eve with.

Managua is actually quite an interesting city, there is a peace park
with AK 47 machine pistols sticking out of cement, a ruined old
cathedral on the main square that is unbelievably dead, with cows
grasing just a few meters away, a hill with a beautiful view over the
city, the lake and volcanoes, and an amazing modern cathedral.
Usually I am not fond of these concrete churches architects use to
show off, but this one was really well done.

By the time I finish my sightseeing and errand tour, it is already 6
in the afternoon, and dark. In Germany it's an hour past midnight,
and I have one minute left on a prepaid phone card Deutsche Telekom
gave me as a gift when I changed addresses in Germany a while ago. So
I ask in a pharmacy, if I can use their telephone to call the free
access number. I am really happy when I hear my grandfather's voice
on the other end of the line, and even happier when he tells me that
my brothers Kjell and Kay are there as well. So I get to say Happy
New Year to all of them in a minute and I feel connected with my
family back home and not so lonely that evening.

Then it's back to Subasta, but when I get there, the party is already
over. A few people are still hanging around, so we continue drinking.
It gets later and later, and at some bored moment I have the idea of
climbing on top of the cabin of Edgar's big scrap metal truck that is
parked out front. He comes up as well, and it really is a nice place,
we have a great view of the intersection, the people and cars passing
by. Edgar is entertained, he had never been up there himself, and
thinks it is pretty original.

The old year is ticking away, and now I would like to find out what
his plans are for the rest of the night, because the junkyard does
not seem to be the great party place. But first Edgar wants to visit
his aunt again, so I play taxi driver once more. Fortunately, she is
not at home, so we take off to go to his brother's New Year's Eve
party. Allright!!

We get there around 11, and the party is a few people sitting around
a table in the street, and the kids dancing inside in a room to the
stereo. We are in a poor neighborhood. The next few hours cost me
quite a few nerves. First, there is Edgar, who wants to speak English
only with me to impress his family and friends. They are not amused,
instead get pretty offended at times.

Still, he continues and with rising alcohol level starts repeating
things over and over. I don't know how often I hear "he is my
brother, and they are my family" that night. Still, I like him.

Then, there are the pretty stupid people around us. I am used to
answering the same questions over and over and over. That's
traveling, meeting new people every day who want to know what the
hell this crazy gringo is doing there. Still, this night was
exceptional. Over and over I have to explain where Germany is, and
that it's cold, and that I am traveling alone etc. etc. I get sick of
it, still try to make a good face to all of it.

Finally, there is the cultural component of people living in this
poor neighborhood, and that's maybe the most annoying one. Edgar and
I talk, well, he more says the same things over and over to me. After
a while his brother tells him that he should cut it out. I don't
quite understand what's going on, so his brother explains. If two men
talk closely like you guys, the people think you will have sex later,
and we have to think about our reputation.

I hardly believe what my ears just heard. So this idiot is telling us
that we can't talk between us, because the neighbors might think we
will have sex later? Unbelievable.

Anyway, I keep my eyes open, try to relax and just put a cassette in
my head, repeating the same answers over and over, so I don't freak
out. It is definitely not a beautiful, relaxed New Year's Eve, but an
interesting one it sure is. While I am inside to check out the
dancing, all hell breaks loose, and everybody storms outside. The
watches still have ten minutes to go to midnight, but by the noise
they must be wrong. It is 2002 in Nicaragua!

Many loud fireworks, but hardly any rockets in the sky. The people go
around saying Feliz Ano Nuevo and hugging each other. That's it. Then
they settle down again in their chairs or homes and continue with
where they were before. I try to get away from it all a bit and sit
on the hood of Edgar's car smoking an Indonesian clove cigarette. The
New Year's cigarette. But even then they hardly leave me in peace so
I have to use a bit of pretended craziness and stupidity to get rid
off some people approaching. ("You are smoking, so do you have some
more cigarettes? - No, I am not smoking, I never smoke!" Crazy
gringo.)

Later I join them again, I can't remember if we talked about anything
interesting. I think not. After a while we move a few blocks down the
street, where one female friend puts out a table and a bottle, so we
continue there. Then a familiar face pops up on the table - the old
prostitute!! She sits down and I exchange a few words with her, want
to make her comfortable.

Soon, the climate becomes really hostile, though. The people I had
been with want to show that they are something better than the puta
and treat her like shit. I miss the exact moment, but after a few
minutes they somehow tell her to piss off, and she leaves, really
annoyed. Even throws a few stones from the distance. I try to find
sympathy with any of the people around for her, but nothing. Sad, sad
experience.

So yes, I did not really get to like the people I celebrated New
Year's Eve with, except for Edgar of course. The stupidity and
aggression of the people in that barrio was very saddening, and I am
just happy about my luck of birth that I did not have to grow up in
an environment like that.

I sleep a few hours in Edgar's brother's car, in the morning they
drop me at the scrapyard, and I take off to new horizons away from
Managua after having exchanged addresses and long goodbyes with
Edgar. I did really get to like the little drunk scrapyard guy. Now I
hope that this year's New Year's Eve will not only be interesting,
but also a bit nicer than the last one in Nicaragua.




Well, well, well. I am still motivated, so I think I will use my
computer time to hack in some impressions of El Salvador as well,
before continuing to Guatemala tomorrow morning. I hope you can take
the KBs in your inbox, as always, if you don't have the time to read
my messages at the moment, just let them lay there for a while and
read them whenever you feel like it. I know they are really long.
Just let me know when they get boring, o.k.?!

Best wishes for 2002, Happy New Year from Santa Ana, El Salvador!

Veit

P.S.: Ups, I just realize something. This message might sound a bit
too negative about the people in Nicaragua. In general they were
among the nicest ones I have met on this trip, definitely more
friendly than people in Costa Rica and in Honduras. So while my New
Year's Eve experience was not that great, the time in Nicaragua sure
was!