La policia.....

3 hours making a ridiculous police report. We wait in the heat for a good 45 minutes before the officer asks us 3 times, "So, you want to fill out a police report?" No, sir, we just love hanging out at police stations while we're traveling through Nicaragua, clearly.

Finally, we're allowed in and the officer sits down very seriously at his typewriter and takes out a small Barbie notebook, where he tells me to write down my information and a list of things that were stolen and the total value of everything stolen. Abby does the same and meanwhile he asks a lot of questions about the circumstances, where we where, when, etc, etc. Every now and then he throws in a strange question and it's hard enough for me to hear him over the noisy air conditioner, so I have to ask him to repeat himself several times when he asks questions like, "Well, at what age do you expect to get married then?" These questions only add to the surrealeness of the experience.

Near the end he asks, "I sure ask a lot of questions, don't I?" "Isn't that your job?" I reply. Clearly this guy is bored and he must realize that he wastes a lot of his own time and that of others filling out police reports, knowing full well that there's no possible way any stolen goods will ever be recovered. He's also a bad typist and this wastes more time.