25th August, 2023
When I posted my last blog I thought that it would be the last account of my time in Nicaragua but that turned out to be wrong, as I met a bit of trouble as I was leaving the country which I will cover here.
I mentioned previously that entering Nicaragua was a weird experience. Their border control system was pointlessly clunky and inefficient, which made it way longer than it should have been and an altogether frustrating experience. Well, it turned out that leaving was even more of an ordeal.
I suspect one of the reasons that their border control is so slow – besides the lack of streamlining – is that the software the immigration officers use is outdated, and they need to input a lot of data manually. Just as it seemed that my turn was about to finally come, a man jumped in front of the queue. And he was not just any man; he was a man with an entire folder of documents with him and bearing a confrontational expression. He began making a long speech to the officer, and I immediately know that my wait had just got much, much longer.
This was just the beginning of my ordeal. It was after I got my passport stamped that the problems truly began.
One thing that I mentioned during my account of entering the country from Honduras was that – despite how much time they spent faffing – they didn’t do what you would think to be an essential and checked our luggage. They let us keep them on the bus, and even the vehicle didn’t get an inspection.
Well, for some reason I still don’t understand, it was only when I was leaving the country that they finally felt this urgent need to scan my bag. Weird, I thought, but whatever. You do you, Nicaragua. This is not something I was concerned about. It is not like I am a drug mule. A part of me thought that, perhaps, they might have a problem with the cheese sandwich I had brought with me for lunch and make me throw it away. That was the only thing I anticipated being an issue.
But, after my stuff went through the conveyor belt, a woman confronted me. She said it was over something electronic and my first instinct was to go through my daypack (which has all my valuables) but it was my main backpack that she was gesturing to. It took me a while to figure out what she could be talking about – as I couldn’t remember anything of that nature being in there – but eventually, after some thinking, I asked her if she meant my case of electronic cigarettes.
What followed was an infuriating amount of drama that I will try to not make it too long-winded.
At first, I was just in disbelief. I just kept repeating to her that it was an e-cigarette. You’ve surely seen one of these before, right? They’ve been around for over a decade now. I have seen them being used by other people in Nicaragua. I have seen then being sold in Nicaragua. I have travelled dozens of countries with mine and it has never been a problem. After a while, I wondered if it was because she suspected it might contain illegal substances, so I reassured her the liquid contained a tiny bit of nicotine and some flavouring, that’s all. But, weirdly, she seemed much more concerned about the batteries and the device itself, than the liquid.
Anyway, she made me fill out a brand-new form – the same one I had filled before getting my passport stamped – but this time declaring my e-cigarettes, and I naively thought that this would be the end of the problem, but, after I completed it, she then led me to the other side of the building to speak with another department.
By this point, I was getting annoyed at how tedious this was all becoming, and I was also worried the bus that was waiting would leave without me. When I spoke to the next representative I told them I was happy to just throw the electronic cigarette away if it meant I could get on with my day and they would not waste any more of my time. To which he told me that they indeed are going to throw my electronic cigarette away – that much was certain – but they were going to add insult to injury and waste even more of my time preparing an official document to record the destruction of my property.
And from there, things just got increasingly ridiculous. I then had to be escorted to yet another department which was in a building on the other side of the car park. He walked me there very slowly and I told him about the bus. “Don’t worry,” he replied dismissively (in Spanish). “It will wait for you”. Which was a stupid thing to say because – unless he was telepathic – he had no way of knowing such a thing.
I then had to give my details to another official so that they could prepare this ever-so-important document, and he did so languidly. I was really angry and frustrated by this point and – as he typed away at his keyboard – I just kept thinking about my bus. I knew that I had to temper myself to limit the risk of further complications but I didn’t get it. I was leaving the country, not entering. They had already stamped me out. Why did they care? Why are they wasting all this time and energy over an e-cigarette? Everything about it was so infuriating.
And, it turned out they were indeed lying about the bus; by the time they finally let me go, it had given up waiting. I was merely lucky enough to catch the moment that turned a corner and I had to race to catch up with it, whilst carrying all my things.
So, yeah, that is the bulk of the story. I know that as far as travel stories go it is not exactly the most dramatic, and I wasn’t – to my knowledge – in any danger. Just thought I would share as I try to cover both the good and the bad of my journey in this blog, and perhaps sharing this experience might help someone who plans to travel to Nicaragua.
Out of all my years of travelling, this was certainly the most ridiculous thing that has ever happened to me at a border (and that includes the absolute clown I once had to deal with at Kuala Lumpur airport), and I would be lying if I said it didn’t leave a bit of a sour taste in my mouth when I now think about Nicaragua. This sentiment is not directed at the people of Nicaragua – most of the ones I interacted with during my stay were lovely – but the immigration control at Peñas Blancas clearly needs to grow up. When I posted about it on social media many of my Latin American friends told me that they were not surprised; the Nicaraguan dictatorship is famously inefficient as much as it is corrupt.
In all honesty, Nicaragua’s political situation isn’t something that I knew too much about. Regular readers will know that I usually do some research into the countries that I visit but Nicaragua was a last-minute decision for me so I was going in blind on this occasion. I did notice that some of the people I met during my short time there spoke to me quite scathingly about the dictatorship they were under – always with a hushed tone as if they were scared of the repercussions of doing so too loudly.
And I just want to also say that this is not me saying I regret coming here. Like many places in the world, Nicaragua is full of wonderful people who deserve a much better ruling class. If you are a Gringo reading this and thinking of coming; don’t let this put you off, but I would certainly advise people to maybe do a bit more research than I did, and be particularly careful when crossing the borders here.
When I reached Costa Rican side it was – like all over immigration services in Latin America, besides Nicaragua – a breeze. I handed over my passport, they scanned it, asked me a few questions and then stamped me in. They also scanned my bag but saw nothing in there to have reason to hold me up. This was especially satisfying because, you know what I will take as a small victory?
The case of e-cigarettes they confiscated was just my in-use one. They missed my backup supply. So here’s to you, Nicaraguan Immigration. You weird, creepy, control freak.
Tej Turner 