EARTHQUAKE!!

Dude! Just 2 minutes ago, I was on this computer moderating my favorite forums on DevShed.com while holding Jessie (Mark's little dog) in my lap and all of the sudden, I start gently moving from side to side and my monitor starts jiggling. At first, I was thinking (don't laugh,) "Man, Jessie is shaking badly about something!" But then I realize that the whole frigging house is moving, and I think, (please don't laugh again,) "Man, that's an awfully big truck outside of Mark's house." But then I realize that here is no sound of truck nor airplane nor army tank nor bomb, and then it hit me, "I'M IN AN EARTHQUAKE!!" How cool is that!? I turned in the swivel chair and looked at the printer shaking back and forth as I tried to soak up the fact that I was really experiencing an earthquake. It lasted for about a good 15 or 20 seconds. That's a pretty long time if you ask me.

The other time there was an earthquake in Guatemala while I was here, Ivan and I were in my car on a bridge stuck in traffic and the car started bouncing up and down. We were both surprised at the abnormal movement of the car. At first we thought it was the big massive truck beside us, but soon we realized that it was an earthquake. Ok, so maybe they weren't "earthquakes" per se, but trimmers nonetheless. I feel so cool that I have lived through 2 different earthquakes in my life and they have both happened within the past 5 months.

I forgot to mention in my last entry that I finally got pulled over by the Guatemalan police on Sunday. Police in Guatemala have a bad rep. For many, many years Guatemala was in a civil war; the government was against people who didn't like the government (basically.) The police were the hit men for the government and if you spoke out against the government, they would kill you with no sweat off their brow. All that stuff ended in 1996 when the peace treaty was signed, but the police are still very corrupted. They like taking bribes and do stuff that they shouldn't. Well, Ivan and I were pulling out of this place on Sunday and when I got onto the street, these two police on motorcycles passed me, and one looked right into my car and we made eye contact. I could tell he was surprised to see a gringo. Then they slow down and fall back behind me and I look into my rearview mirror just in time to see the cop who looked into my car, motion to his buddy with his head. My heart started to beat faster especially after I have heard of all the horror stories about how you can't trust the police here. Ivan was helping me keep an eye out on them and said, "They are trying to you to pull over."

I have no idea how he knew that because this motor cycle cop had no lights, nor siren indicating his desire for my immediate stoppage. But then I noticed a faint sound; the dude was honking at me with what seemed to be a bicycle bell. Ivan said that when stuff breaks here (like lights and sirens,) they don't fix it. Anyways, when he pulled me over he asked for my license and papers for the car. I knew exactly what he was after. After seeing a gringo in the car, he wanted to try and get me without my papers or license to milk me for money (here all non-Guatemalan white people are stereotyped as being rich.) Unlike the States, insurance is not required here, but you do have to have an official registration card that says that the car is not stolen. I handed him my license and started to get nervous when I remembered Mark taking my registration card out to make a copy of it. I pulled open the slot where we keep that card and my heart dropped; it was empty.

In a desperate attempt to find any kind of paper, I opened the glove compartment and fumbled around through all the junk and pulled out a paper that looked official to me. I handed it to the official right as Ivan said, "I don't think that's it." The cop shook his head and said, "No, this isn't it." I could tell he was getting excited; if I didnit have my papers, it would be a perfect opportunity for a nice big American-funded bribe to "let him go with a warning this time." After getting quite nervous and fumbling through the glove compartment more, I finally found an official notarized copy of the card I was supposed to have. With I sigh of relief, I handed the paper to him as he walked behind the car to converse with his partner.

Ivan was watching them and listening to them closely as they talked because he didn't trust them as far as he could throw them. Then Ivan said, "They are saying that your license has expired." I was laughing inside because this has happened before where an official here will look at an American license and read the birth date or the issue date and think that the license has expired. I mean, I can't blame them since they can't read English, but when the expiration date is the BIG RED date at the top that has a FUTURE date written on it, I have to say that sometimes we look for details when the answer is right under our noses. I saw his partner point to the correct expiration date on my license and clear everything up. Good thing I renewed my expired license when I visited the States last month! The cop came back to the car and handed me my documents and said, "Are we all clear?" I could tell he was disappointed about not being able to bribe me, but Ivan and I thanked him and then we were on our way.

Comments

Post A Comment