Tues, March 24 Campamento, Honduras to Costa del Sol, El Salvador






Bike problems:
This morning, when I went to open the left side case, it wouldn't open. The top case was blockin git. This was extremely strange and unexpected. When I looked underneath, one of the 2 big steel poles holding the system up had completely broken off at the weld, probably some time during yesterday's really bumpy road. Also, one of the bolts holding on the side bars that hold the same system in place had rattled off. The whole back case is now sagging backwards, beinding my license plate down and being held by about half the usual support. I will probably have to find someone who welds and a new bolt soon, because throughout the day it seemed to get a bit worse. This also frustrated me and took my attention off riding and enjoying myself.



The ride through southwest Honduras started out with a pine forest, which looked exactly like any place in the Eastern US. This quickly turned into dry, hot mountains, which lasted the rest of the day. The guy at the hotel told me it would be about 7 hours to El Salvador. It only took about 4, and by 1pm, I was at the border.


Border Crossing:
The Honduras side was a mess. A mile before the border, a cop at a roadblock asked to see my passport. This was unexpected so I had to take a minute to get it out. As I got nearer, things got crazy. The little 3 wheeled motorcycle taxis were everywhere, trucks were driving in the middle of the road, and there were little buildings everywhere, all with crowds of people in front. When I stopped to see wha tone of the buildings was, I immediately got crowded by people yelling at me and touching my arm and calling me amigo - all trying to help me throug the border for a buck. I had to actually start moving before people started to back off. I'd been through enough of these things to know that they're not that complicated, and I especially didn't need these people helping me - I'd learned not to trust information from anyone not wearing a uniform - a government uniform.

While I continued going down the road in the weirdness of the free-zone,
people tried to wave me over and tell me to stop. At one of the tiny buildings, near an empty bridge, more people tried to flag me down, and I was about to keep going, but had a suspicion about this one. More people came up to me trying to help, and one said I needed to take my passport and vehicle permit in this building to exit Honduras. He was right. It was a tiny, smelly, concrete building with room enough for only one desk and one guy. It was quick and didn't cost anything.

Over the bridge was the money changers and the beggars that followed them around. I did need to change some money, so a guy took some Lempiras for 25 to a dollar, a high number, but I just wanted to get out of there. He told me I didn't need to go in that building there - the El Salvador immigration - but I went to ask a uniformed guy to make sure. He told me that I already have a Central America stamp in my passport that is good here, and I needed to go up the road 3km to the customs for the vehicle permit. He spoke english - badly, but this is the first border official in a while who speaks english, so I didn't hav e any questions about whether I heard him right.

At a road block 3km down, a very friendly officer, amused at my poor spanish, told me to take that turn to Aduanas: Customs. It was a giant, empty trucking warehouse, with two desks all the way in the back, and a small, air-conditioned office on the side. There was a guy with a big gun by the office making sure people don't hang around in there too long or keep the door open to let the cold air out. The woman inside gave me a sheet to fill out with all the vehicle info, and said something I didn't understand; I thought it was "go out and wait". As I waited, I had a nice conversation with a guy that works there. It started in my slow Spanish, and after a while the guy starts talking in English! Grr! After a while, he asked me what I was waiting for, and when I told him I didn't know, he went to find out, and stayed with me to make sure I understood everything else. No stickers here either, just a sheet with some stamps. No cost - a completely free border crossing!


The landscape here is similar to Honduras - dry, mountainous, and hot. A couple giant volcanoes loomed over the horizons.

After a while, I wanted to stop. I was near the Pacific, so why not find a beach town to stay at? 2 nights ago, I slept next to the Carribean, so tonight I'll sleep next to the Pacific. These towns, I have come to find out, are very sad. There are restaurants and giant $50 a night hotel resorts, and there are pupusa stands and creally crappy hotels for the Central Americans. Mine is $10 for the night, has concrete walls with no windows and a concrete bed. Critters are free to come and go as they please, as there's a 6 inch gap between the walls and the roof. However, it's right on the beach - 5 feet from my door is the sand.



I found a restaurant/convenience store that has fences for walls, and got beans, eggs, cheese, tortillas, Coca-Cola (it's made with sugar here, not corn syrup), a bean and cheese pupusa, and a bag of water (yes, fresh water comes in bags here), all for $2.55. Life is good.

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