So after breaking the heart of “señorita bigotes”, I counted all the money I saved up and it turned out to be enough for my bus ticket to the Guatemalan/Mexico border. The bust trip was approximately 22 hours and I filled my bag with all the pupusas any Latin man could handle and took off.
On the way back from Nicaragua, I inevitably had to cross through Honduras again. They made everybody get off the bus for protocol immigration inspection. When it was my turn, the immigration officials found it very odd that I did not carry anything but a bag filled with pupusas. Being the smart ass that I am, I made the following comment, “well, pupusas protect the cocaine filling very well”. Immigration officials have no soul, let a lone a sense of humor. I was immediately tackled to the kissing position with the floor. In Latin America, human rights are like unicorns…they don’t exist. You should have seen them, they carefully dissected my dear pupusas like if they were explosives. I overheard one of the officials say, “this one has it.” He was mistaken. The white stuff he saw in my pupusa was not in fact cocaine, but rather white cotija cheese. Pendejo.
So after I managed to stop the bleeding on my face, I got back on the bus (without my pupusas) and made it to the Guatemalan/Mexican border. How does a man make it back home half-way across the country without any money all the way from the border of Guatemala? If you’ve ever seen the movie “Sin Nombre” you’ll know how– a train. I was the only legal Mexican in the crowd of undocumented Central Americans. They were headed to “El Norte” to pursue the American Dream, reunite with family and to get away from the political mess and poverty in their home country. I shared a bit of encouragement from my experience in the US and told them that in the US unicorns do in fact exist, therefore human rights exist. That made one girl in particular smile and continue to dream…
I eventually made it home and had to break into my own house because I did not have my house key. After this long crazy adventure, not showering, not shaving, blood scabs on my face, and raggedy clothes, my neighbors did not recognize me and therefore called the cops on me. Fortunately for me, in Mexico police never show up on time, even if you’re white. I know, shocking. I managed to shave, shower, and pimp myself up before the police showed up. I didn’t fit the description and asked them to please keep an eye out for intruders near my house. I managed to increase the security of my house for free. Chido 🙂
OK, these “Brief Hiatus” posts are ridiculous, I know. But like Gabriel García Márquez said about his book “One Hundred Years of Solitude”, every sentence in these posts have an origin of truth. Well, I at least dreamed most of it on my long long long long long long bus ride back from Nicaragua. I’ll post the real life experience trip to Nicaragua in the next few days. Paz…