This is one of those stories that is really funny - after the fact. Read on for a few laughs at my expense.

During our one-week vacation in Nicaragua, we stayed at the all-inclusive resort Barcelo Montelimar Beach Hotel. The resort was located in the small fishing village of Masachapa which was close enough to visit the rest of Nicaragua.

On our third day, we decided to leave our resort to spend a few days exploring the country. We visited Granada, Leon, Masaya and San Juan de Oriente. By the time we got back to Managua, we had already missed the last bus to Masachapa. Luckily, there was a bus going to Capri and then another bus going to Masachapa.

It was extremely hot during the day but it was really cold and windy way up in the mountain village of Capri. We were relieved when the bus finally arrived a few minutes later!

It was pitch dark when we arrived in Masachapa. It looked like a ghost town: empty and barren. There were no buses, no taxis and no triciclos (taxi bikes) anywhere. We usually walked the 3 km to our hotel but it was very late and the streets were very dark. Plus, I had blisters on my feet and we were carrying the pottery we bought in San Juan de Oriente.

All of a sudden, a guy rode up to us on his triciclo offering to take us to our hotel. We don't usually like taking taxi bikes but we were left with no other choice. Without giving it a second thought, we sat in the back of the triciclo barely squeezing in our backpack and purchases. After all, we were grateful to have a ride straight to the lobby of our hotel.

The taxi biker spoke very good English so we engaged in a friendly conversation about the usual topics between tourists and locals. Until then everything seemed fine with no red flags warning us of any imminent danger. But, once we got to the darkest and most deserted part of the road, the taxi biker casually starting saying Masachapa is run by a local mafia that controls everything - advising us to be careful. We both looked at each other laughing. We had walked around Masachapa before and felt very safe. What’s more, everyone was very friendly.

Since we weren't taking him seriously, he insisted a mafia did exist and all the triciclos belonged to them including the one he was riding. We wondered why he would mention the mafia at that particular moment (remember: dark, deserted road). He then said he needed to call his friend for no apparent reason.

After being told about the mafia, we both found this strange. Not wanting to give him a chance to call someone (to mug us?), my boyfriend took grabbed the cell phone from his hands. At this point, I admit, I did start to feel a little very uncomfortable.

It was obvious he was having a very hard time pedaling so we asked him if he was okay. He took this opportunity to tell us that he needed to take a break because there wasn't enough air in his tires which made it difficult to pedal. Keep in mind we were still on the darkest stretch of the road only about halfway to our hotel. Also, we didn’t know if he hadn't contacted someone (from the mafia?) to meet up with him. Tthe whole situation was getting sketchier by the minute.

We yelled at him not to stop for any reason. We thought better safe than sorry. He continued pedalling with much effort, heaving and coughing.

I've traveled to many countries some of which were considered somewhat dangerous without any problems. Also, I don't get scared easily and I'm not paranoid by nature. However, this time in Masachapa, a sleepy fishing village of all places, we both started to worry. If anything should happen, we agreed that I should just run as fast as I can and not look back. I couldn't imagine getting very far running in my flip flops with blisters on my feet.

Our triciclo driver continued conversing with us. He mentioned that his aunt worked at the reception of our hotel and his uncle owned the pharmacy in town. That reassured us somewhat. We figured we could track him down if anything happened, assuming what he was saying was true.

We were on alert during the whole ride back to our resort. We looked around in the dark expecting for someone to jump out of the bushes to mug us. We were starting to think it could actually be true. Were the armed guards at the gate of our hotel there to protect us from the mafia of Masachapa?

After what seemed like an eternity riding along the dark road, we finally saw the marquee of the Barcelo Montelimar Beach Hotel. Our taxi biker proudly said he was the only biker who was allowed to cross the gate. I would only feel safe once we arrived at the hotel.

I sighed with relief when I saw the lights from the hotel lobby. My legs were shaking and my heart was still beating fast but we were finally safe!

Once we got to our room, we immediately starting laughing at the whole situation. We'll never know if there's a mafia in Masachapa but it sure makes for an entertaining travel story.