Language was going to be a big problem. We were going to a local police station so the chances of anyone speaking English was remote. Luckily Olivia had befriended an awesome Canadian girl called Emjay who knew good Spanish. She told me to write out the whole incident on paper in Spanish, of course with her helping with the translation. The idea was we could simply hand this written report to the police officer and that would pretty much answer any of his questions. It was a good idea and I got the feeling that Emjay had been in this experience before, maybe herself being the victim.
Something off my to-do list
The police station was too far to walk so we hailed down one of the many tuk-tuks that constantly patrol the streets of Flores and Emjay asked for the nearest police station. I had never been in a tuk tuk and it was something on my to-do list. Riding in the tuk-tuk was fun and it is something everyone should do at some point. Because the walls are very thin and the seating area is cramped you feel like you are right on the edge, like there is nothing between you and the highway below or the car next to you. Also being on only three wheels you constantly feel like you are going to roll over at any second. But really the ride was a good experience; the wind in your face, the perky little motor working hard just beneath your feet, being thrown side to side as the little agile tuk-tuk weaves between traffic and swerves to avoid pot holes. If only this journey was under different circumstances...
The rozzers
The police station was a very basic building. Essentially it was just a basic concrete box with a corrugated piece of metal acting as a roof. Parked outside of the station were two police pickup trucks, they looked brand new. The police station did not have a front door; instead it was just an opening adjacent to a row of benches. Obviously this is where you sit and wait to be processed. Next to the opening were a gang of police offices. They were just stood around and seemed slightly amused by our presence. They generally seemed nice and I didn’t feel uncomfortable by their presence. There uniform looked more military than civil enforcement with khaki green jackets and boots polished to perfection. A short police man appeared from within the police station; in his hand was a loaded uzi. He walked out of the station and got into one of the pickup trucks. About 6 of the officers who were stood outside joined him and climbed into the back of the pickup truck, and then they drove off. It seemed response in numbers is the Guatemalan Police way of dealing with matters.
After a short wait we were invited into the police station and I handed my report to some officer sat behind a computer that was from the early 2000s. He read my sheet, asked me a few questions that Emjay helped me answer and then started typing away. After he finished typing up his report he printed off five copies and asked me to sign them. Signing five sheets of paper with “Victimo de crime” printed on it in big letters followed by my name was pretty degrading, but at least it was over now. One of the five copies was mine and it is what I needed for the insurance.
Moving forward
When we got back to the hostel Emjay and Olivia went to the bar and I went to my room. I told Olivia that I needed to spend some time on my own. I needed to think and be brutally honest with myself. I had lost my debit card and was broke; I couldn’t even afford the tuk-tuk to the police station to report the phone that I had stupidly allowed to be stolen! I had been an idiot, a Karl Pilkington, a travelling liability and this had to stop. So I made myself a deal; to forgive myself, move on and most importantly learn from my mistakes. I would put all this behind me and become a better person. No more stupid mistakes and no more dwelling in the past. From this day forward I would become a strong and independent traveller.
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