Still in Managua

I spent two more days with the Fowlers. On the second day the husband, Peter, returned and they organised a party including assorted foreigners, mostly conventional businessmen and wives. One very impressive Nicaraguan woman, a broker, made fun of the others for being dependent on their bosses, provoking some uneasy laughter. I wondered how they all felt knowing that they depended for their livelihoods on a murderous dictator, Somoza, who was supported, in part, by US interests. It was President Jimmy Carter who eventually helped to bring him down four years later. And President Ronald Reagan who would have been happy to reinstate him.

May 18, Sunday

Left Managua for Tegucigalpa [Honduras]. On the way tried to find the centre of Managua. Failed. [The city was all but destroyed by an earthquake in 1972]

Saw crater lake – not too impressed. On to Léon by south road but missed most of Léon. Too much hurry. Very hot. Border at 12.00. Easy but expensive. $3.50 in all. Had too little petrol to reach Choluteco. Bought gallon from café. Met two plain clothes police. Pleasant and helpful to me.

Much trouble in Tegucigalpa, first to find telephone, then to find that Roy Smith [friend of friend] was away. Then to find that cheap hotels either didn’t exist (Hotel Eden) – had been pulled down (Hotel Americano) ¬– or had no water (Hotel Astoria). Finally in despair called Smith’s parents again and was invited to stay. Impressive house in Avenida La Paz, 4 cars in garage. BMW, Mercedes, Lincoln Continental and Oldsmobile. Smith sr. a sluggish fellow of about 50, wife nervously Latin, anxious to please.

I’ve been getting quite well-defined impressions of society in Nicaragua and Honduras, apparently based on the scantiest of evidence. Am I inventing it to satisfy myself? Obviously, a lot of information enters my mind subliminally – expressions caught on faces as I pass by, mannerisms, driving habits, the style of advertising, the style of officials at borders. Then I might meet one or two people or observe a more prolonged incident such as the one at the border. My experiences are checked against those of others I meet. But all is subjective, relative to my own likes and needs. Aesthetically the Nica male is displeasing to me; short, stocky, gross features, quick to put on fat, I think of him as arrogant, boorish, corrupt, brutal. But what does he think of me? Arrogant, feeble, effete, inhibited, pretentious?

Honduras! Ad for cigarette shows male smoking on beach with two ladies courting him. They don’t smoke but assist in the ritual. Makes me wonder whether firms, like Kodak, who have been advertising a long time, use their Thirties American ads for Central America today? Looks like it.

Here’s a combined ad for a beach resort and Kodak.

“A perfect occasion to employ a Kodak camera and film.”

Nica Honduras border: Everybody wants a dollar. On Nica side Customs and Immigration each take 5 Cordobas (7 to the dollar). Hondurans have three departments – Immigration, Transit, Customs. They take 1 Limpeira, 1 Limp, and 2 Limps respectively (2 to the dollar). The transit man does nothing at all but write out a receipt. The others don’t give receipts.

May 19th

Straight to Copán [A famous archeological site of Mayan culture.] Easy ride until La Entrada, then 60 km of dirt (not bad) and a puncture. Big bent nail, sharp at both ends. One and a half hours for whole job of changing tube. Audience inhibits my swearing which may be just as well. Arrive Copán after dark, but bike goes well over loose stuff. Hotel Marino annex. $1.50. Met four US girls in pairs, Tammy and Mary are Peace Corps social workers going home from Colombia. Tina and Judy are older, more interesting. Tina gave up art to wait at tables and travel. Judy (ex-married to Honduran in San Pedro) is buying [ethnic stuff] seriously, to sell in US.

The ruins are undeniably beautiful in their setting. Bird song is wonderfully varied, and I wish I could record it. Took many pictures – but now I’m very convinced the light meter is inaccurate – doesn’t correspond to the readings I took earlier on trip. Bar and drinks seem very expensive. Town is without water. But they’ve tried to make it pretty.

There’s a small museum with some stone figures (the frog and the turkey). Skulls with teeth inset with bits of jade, and obsidian tools. A very expansive old gent rambles on about it all.

Of the girls Tammy is the most eager, but Tina the most interesting. Her very determined way of life seems laudable, if painful, and I gave her my home address in case she comes to Europe. She in turn gave me an address in California of two boys who run an “Earth Shoe” branch and have made a fortune.

Every meeting now emphasises my loneliness. I sat in the plaza alone that night and as I do more often now feel hungry for companionship and/or love. How much of it is unrequited lust I don’t know – but I suspect a one-night stand would do little to help.

A man walks towards me across the square. His silhouette is a perfect Gary Cooper cowboy – slim, bow-legged, cowboy hat. As he emerges into the light he is young, vacant-faced and unworthy of the image. Ridiculous image.

The fellow who came to the ruins with the girls and showed them around was pleasant, intelligent. Wore rather fancy clothes – trousers with a sort of lamé net sewn over the blue material. Had many teeth missing. I traipsed around with them. He showed us bits of obsidian, slivers used for cutting. Also that strange plant, sensitive mimosa, which curls up when you touch it. I thought he was going to want money – but he just went off to lunch and left us.

Tomorrow Guatemala.

I liked this old man of Copán. When I went back 25 years later he was still there, an old friend, but with a roof over his head.