January 20th, 2010

January 20th, 2010



So I didn't do very well this last week in keeping you all posted so here are a few stories that should get us back on track.



103 degrees in the shade, what a beautiful day. Where else would you rather be than on the border of El Salvador and Honduras in a landscape that resembles the best of southern Okalahoma. I had this vision of lush rainforests, green vegetation, and tripical creatures. Instead, the dust was blowing, the hawkers (beggers) were hawking, and the cahos was at it's best. Just a few minutes before we had passed through a small town leading to the border a swarm of young men saw our car and stared running! We knew what was going on, they were looking for "suckers." At every border, the moment you get close mobs of so called "guides" will proposition you with fake goverment ID's, cards of tourism, claiming they can make your border experience quick and painless. All this for a few of course.



As we passed the first mob we saw a guy sprint to his car then blow by us on the road, putting himself into position for the actual border. As we pulled up, he was right ther to be at our service. We had heard about Honduran border horror stories, so since he spoke good English, was only going to charge $5, and promised he could make our experience quick, we went along for the ride, (literally).



After the first hour had passed, we had all gotten our passports stamed and were ready to pass into Honduras, be we wstill needed to do all the steps for the car. Vehicle permit, insurance, more permits, more copies of permits, etc. As Don, Charlie, and I waited in the 100 degree shade, we got propositioned by hawkers of all kinds, got to use the bathroom right on the street (really, right on the street), and shot the shit with the locals and some motorcyclists from Canada.



The main custome building had offices for customs and immigration and a small bank where you could pay for permits and get cash. The building was more like a cement tunnel with offices lining both sides. This border station was unique in that not only was the building dilapidated and old, but it had an amazing aroma too. Along with the boiling heat, the stench of pee and poo drifted from all corners of the building. Luckily for us, the lines for all the offices where right at ground zero. Ironically, there were no bathrooms in the entire building, hence the peeing in the street, and yet the stench was unbearable. As I giggled to myself while gagging, I looked around and found it surprising that no one else seemed to notice, must just be us Americans complainging too much again!



As we rolled into hours number two and three, we finally hbad everything we needed. Our guide, Jose, who some in the group liked to call "Pedro," told us now, after paying the $45 for insurance, $25 for fumigation (never happened), we now had to pay an additional $30 per head (minus Bob). Something about a missing stamp on our original vehicle permit. As a group we decided that it was our time to "Rolled." We were so close to the end that we paid the suspect, $90 and got our asses out of that border with whatever dignity we had left.



After careful consideration, we found out that the $45 insurance was normal, the $25 fumigation was also normal although there really was no fumigation. The only question left was the $90 dollars we had give Jose/Pedro for the missing stamp. Since the $90 was still in his own pocket, we figured he probably had found his "suckers."



As of today in Costa Rica, Honduras was our longest, smelliest, and most questionable border crossing. All the rest have taken some time, but we have gotten smarter about "border guides." Honduras was one of those experiences where you knew you were getting screwed, but there wasn't much you could about it but laugh. If you are a glass half full guy like met, you just look at it as stimulating the local economy!



"The Pier Bar"



In San Jaun Del Sur, Nicaragua, all the elements for a perfect bar fell into place. A small little surf town on the Pacific Coast, San Juan is the epitamy of a young travelers town. Surfers from around the country/world come to base out of San Juan and it makes for a fantastic nightlife. Young and old alike, free lovers, happy people congregate at night for beers, beaches and music. "the Pier" was the perfect combination of sand, cheap beer, happy faces and live music. I was able to drag Charlie out until about 12:30a.m. to enjoy the night. With an open mic night with live music of Bob Marley, Bob Dylan, and the Old Crow Medicine Show, everything fell into place. As the Zach Brown Band says, we had our..."toes in the water, ass in the sand, not a worry in the world, a cold beer in my hand, life is good today, life is good today." Yes, life was good, that day.



More stories to come to catch you all up....



What I Learned: I will never like the smell of poop and pee, but happy faces and cold beer make for a perfect time!