Friday, March 20 Quetzaltenango, Guatemala to Copàn Ruinas, Honduras

Finally, another day worth writing about, full of travels and adventures just the way I remember them.

Yesterday I got my brake pads in the mail. It took a while to pry the calipers wide enough open to accept them, and a little hammering to get them into place, but they fit and work. However, when I tried to star the engine to try them out, it wouldn't start - dead battery. I think I might have a bad battery - this is by no means the first time I've had problems like this. I took it to the moto shop with I got my oil changed a couple days ago and they happily put it on charge overnight for 10 Quetzales. In the morning, after breakfast of a couple pieces of fruit and some coffee and goodbyes with my host family, Big Mama cranked right up and off we went. With new brake pads, and oil change, and a few weeks' rest, she ran great and didn't give me any problems at all.

I, however, am still sick. Although not as bad as yesterday, I'm still stuffy, and with so many huge changes in altitude I've had the ears-need-to-pop-but-can't feeling all day, leaving me uncomfortable and nearly deaf. At a gas station someone asked me something I couldn't hear, and when he got his english speaking friend to ask, assuming I didn't understand spanish, I couldn't hear him either! It turned out they just wanted to know the size of the engine. I could have guessed that, and usually do - when someone asks me something I don't understand, my immediate answer is "mil tres cientos".

My plans for today were very uncertain - I knew I wanted to cross into Honduras at Copàn Ruinas, but didn't know how close I'd make it in a day. The road to Guatemala was just as I remember it going the other way - cold, twisty, and wet. This time it was also foggy, at times so much I was cruising at about 20mph, trying to see if the road curves or goes straight.

After a couple hours' "confusion" in Guatemala City, I found the road to the west, thanks to 2 cab drivers who both spoke a little english and a motorcycle delivery guy who had me follow him all the way to the ramp onto the highway. It was about 2:30 when I left the city, and at that point I started considering the possibility of getting to Honduras today. I had read that these border crossings tend to be less hectic and quicker in the evenings when they're getting ready to close. Although it was getting late, there wasn't much around so I decided to make a run for the border.

The Border Crossing:
I arrived at about 5:30, and there were few cars, but lots of trucks lined up on the side. This is the most unoffical looking border yet - no fancy booths, signs, or modern buildings; only some hand-drawn gates, money changers in the parking lot with stacks of bills in one hand and a calculator in the other, and a few shacks with teller windows right next to opened doors.

The guy who changed some of my Quetzales for Lempiras (at 2L:1Q) after questioning me all about the bike (mil tres cientos!), told me to go to window 4. At window 4 I got my Guatemala exit stamp, payed the $3usd or 25Q fee, and went to the next building to take care of the vehicle stuff. Unlike Mexico, it is necessary to cancel the vehicle permit, even if coming back. None of the guys in this border speak english, and my hearing wasn't getting much better, so it was difficult to figure out what these guys wanted. They guy at this building got a little frustrated with me - at first I thought it was where I get my Honduras permit, not realizing it was a Guatemala station. Down the road a hundred meters was the Honduras place, even less official looking yet. No signs at all, just some desks with stacks of papers and computers in small rooms with open doors - no windows this time.

I went up to the first guy at the first desk I saw, and it turned out to be the right place for a vehicle import. He was a young, cheerful guy who kept talking to me about stuff, of which I understood maybe 20%. When I understood something I'd answer, and he'd keep talking more - about women, Honduras, Christian Rock (he made me watch 2 music videos on his computer before filling out any papers), whether I beleive in God, etc etc. A couple copies each of my license, title, passport, and $29 US, and I'm done. No windshield sticker this time, just a document to show the cops.

By the time this guy got done talking, it was dark. Fortunately Copàn Ruinas is only 10km away, and touristy, so things are always open. The road was mostly well paved, and I found the town easily - another town with rutted cobblestone streets. The first hotel I found was really expensive, and the guy was mean. I'm pretty sure I left my clear lensed goggles on the desk, but it wasn't worth going back in for them - they were half broken, scratched up, and I forgot the word for "goggles".

The second place had parking space for the bike and rooms without bathrooms which is fine with me. It is 150 Lempira, which I'm still trying to figure out what that is. (upon writing this i see that it is $7.94). My dinner of baked chicken with some really good mystery sauce, rice, and lots of much-needed veggies cost me the same amount. This really is a touristy town - walking the streets, I heard more english than spanish, and no matter what I said in spanish, the waiter insisted in answering me in english. I just spent 2 weeks in Xela taking classes and I want to talk some Spanish, damnit!

If I don't have a similar experience as Tikal, I'd like to check out the ruins this town is named after. Then I'll head east to the Caribbean coast, a decision seconded by the overzealous Honduras customs guy.