Dispatch Number 28 -My Corner

Everyone told me to be careful at my corner where two streets intersected at 6th and 6th. Hotel Marina was a clean shit hole with a second floor view of giant pot holes that were mysteriously filled during the night with concrete rubble, it also had street food vendors, an endless stream of taxis, children, beggars and a colorful selection of corner prostitutes.

My openness to see and live in the seedy underbelly of society lent itself well to this corner. The entrance to the Marina had Oscar an armed guard who wore a neat paramilitary uniform and totted a big shotgun held at the ready. In light of the dinginess of the place I found it clean enough, safe enough and seedy enough to be happy with the room. So did my travel mates Alex a Mexican journalism student and Jeff a gregarious Australian.

Jeff especially took to the place the way I did. It was one of those bonding moments and I was glad we were traveling together. We were in San Pedro Sula a rough city in Honduras during the unsettled aftermath of a coupd'état that went down just two weeks before. The country was full of protests, crackdowns and curfews. I felt I was traveling with the right men.

I chatted with the prostitutes who hinted at special pleasures and when I showed little interest they asked me to buy them plates of food from the stand I spent the better part of an evening hanging out at. Life lived out in the open.

In dangerous cities like this one when the children are taken home and are no longer playing on the sidewalks it is a very good sign to get off the streets too. Soon the streets were left to roaming trucks full of police to enforce the nation wide curfew from 11pm to 5am. It was a colorful first night in Honduras.

David
Matagalpa, Nicaragua