Jan Gerben – Harley-Davidson flathead 1943 World Travel

I have a hard time finding a hotel in Granada, no place to park my bike properly, or too expensive or just plain unfriendly. I almost decided to got to Managua, it´s still early so I gan get there in daylight, as I see a Harley parked in one of the small streets opposite to a hotel. The girl at the reception assures me of a good parking spot and the room is fine.

In the evening I meet the guy who owns the hotel and Harley. ´Jimmy three fingers´ is an entrepeneur pur sang and I inmediately warm up to him. There are 37 Harley´s in Nicaragua and number 38 and it´s owner are killed a few weeks ago on one of the roundabouts in Managua. Jimmy organises a remembrance evening for the guy, that means I just can´t leave before that date.

At the day of the remembrance the evening is called off due to an upcoming Harley weekend in Guatamala where 8 riders are headed for. So we decide to hit town, with the bikes. Well, it sure turned out to become an unforgettable evening. After a few drinks in one of the best bar´s I´ve seen since Oakland, Zooms bar, we go down to the lake. In the old ´complexo turistico´ it´s quite in the open air discotheque. Jimmy drops me at a table with 5 gorgeous ladies after an introduction and donation of a family size beer bottle. I love it, but honestly I´m tired and with just one drink too much it´s better to go home, I think. ´All right´. Coming from the washroom I notice there´s a fight going on between my table ladies. I manage to get them out of each others hair (amongst other body parts) and walk up to my bike. Jimmy is already out there. Betsy won´t start. One of the spark plug cables turns out to be loose. An easy fix, Betsy starts inmediately and I leave first. At the end of the street I still don´t see Jimmy. Even after counting to 10 he´s still not at my back, so I go back. Upon returning I see Jimmy trying to unknot an even bigger group of ladies who are assembled, fighting, around his bike. I go over, turn my bike and I see out of the corner of my eye one of the ladies crawling under a pile of fighting ladies, running towards me and she just jumps on my back fender. I hit it and this time Jimmy is right behind me. At the end of the street we decide we just can´t leave the girl. So we go to our own place and have some more drinks. It is already light when it is obvious our lady of the night just wants money. Since I took her along, I have to pay which means we manage to get her into a cab and pay the ticket. To Jimmy this whole scene reminds him of a movie in which Martin Sheen declares when he´s interrogated on sexual adventures, ´I paid her to leave´. What a great line to end the evening!

Esteli, Nicaragua, 23 march 2009

I leave San Salvador with a tear in my eye. In just a few days I got accustomed to this bizar city. The people I met, Walter whom I teached counting in German so he could phone his brother his cellphone number in German, Mirna (‘la Bonita’) of my hotel who takes care of me in daytime sending me to various great destinations (‘puerte de diablo’), the security guys who take care of the bike day & night and who are just nice guys. It is in El Salvador where the best question about the bike so far is posted: ‘is this the bike in the old days of the president of the US?’. He was sure, he had seen it in the movies and on tv.

The El Salvador customs is easy. Just an exit stamp and I can go on, it´s almost 4 ´0 clock. I decide to use one of the locals as a helper (´tramitadore’). My passport is OK. I am already on the Honduras side and have a lot of trouble with a few drunks, junks and beggars. Then the situation changes for the worse. The customs guy sees a problem with the papers for the bike. ‘Problemo, problemo’. The year of manafacture is incorrect on the El Salvador form (by treaty the bike travels on the same type of form from one Central American country to the other). The year of manufacture they filled in is 1954, which is the date the bike got it´s civil registration after being in the Dutch army since 1946 (and being in Canadian army service since 1943). That year is also on my papers. I try to make it clear but to no avail. Then he spots some oil on my bike. ‘What´s this´he asks, ‘is this oil?’ and he looks as if the Exxon Valdez just came by. ‘Problemo for inspection’. Review with collegues is reguired. This is where the bingo starts. After review for quite some time it is decided that if I pay some dollars they´ll let me go. ‘OK’. The formal payments have to be made at the bank office. BINGO. The bank just closed because it´s 5 ‘o clock. ‘Opens on monday’… After 70 dollars for the bike and 20 dollars for my passport in bribes I can go. I get a permit for just 3 days because of the so called problems. Welcome in Honduras.

On the road again I feel as in a Mad Max movie. Fires next to the road, shacks, animals, some people. In the first real town the hotel is fully booked, with some luck I find a room in a convention center.

Next day the bike gives me headache. In the blazing heat it stops time after time just after some miles. After a short prayer and some work the bike starts and keeps going.

Leaving Honduras is easy and with the Nicaraguan helper I set a fixed proce. For 39 dollars of which 20 as a bribe I am within an hour in Nicaragua!

For all the dirty & nasty details of this story please use Google Translator on the Dutch text. Thanks!

San Salvador, 20 march 2009

Nothing could have prepared me for San Salvador. I enter the city in the dark. From La Libertad (along the coast) it’s only 33 km’s but about 10 km’s are under construction. So I arrive in the dark. The guys at the Texaco are friendly and direct me to a safe hotel according to them. Unfortunately it has no own parking but a guarded parking further down the street. I decide to look further. In between buses I cross the market. in front of the rundown, downtown buildings I pass a layer of one, sometimes 2 or 3  rows of market vendors. The smell of food, diesel and waste are mixed and mostly disgusting. The hotel I aimed for is closed. Going further I ask armed security for directions, eventually I find a nice place. The bike is parked in front of my room and in the hall are two armed guards.

In daytime I visit Oscar Romero’s tomb. He is the bishop who suspended the building of this cathedral to finance projects for the poor and who was killed during a sunday service in 1980 (in 5 days exactly 29 years ago). I always wondered how 3 (or 4) men could enter a church, shoot the man up front and go a without being catched. I know now. The cathedral is in the middle of this crazy market with it’s thousands of vendors, hallways and noise. His tomb is under the cathedral. In the cathedral only a stained window with a dove in between stars made of broken glass, reminds the visitor of it’s bizar history. The possible problems I was warned for due to the elections last sunday, didn’t occur, although a party won that were ligitimate targets in Romero’s days and were a Dutch journalist was also killed for (see e.g. oliver Stone’s movie ‘San Salvador´). The times they are a changing, also here, slowly.

My route goes on via the Panamerican on to San Miguel and the border with Honduras.

Guatemala Ciudad (city) is huge, three million inhabitants. The city is divided in 11 ‘zonas’, my destination the Harley-dealer is in zona 9. C.O. Jones Motorcycle Company is Guatemala’s only Harley-dealer. It wasn’t difficult to find zona 9, but after that is wasn’t easy. Some fellow motorcyclist brought me over. I wanted to buy some original old-style oil. The last time I bought oil was in Phoenix, Arizona and I’m running low. Mexico has 11 dealers (110  million inhabitants) but not one of them on my route. Unfortunately the agencia has no oil for me. “Do I have some time?” Of course, coffee, enthusiasm, lots of good luck hugs from customers and employees, so I’m happy. After our lunch, Hugo, one of the mecanics goes away on his bike to buy me some oil. Wow, that’s great service!

In the afternoon I meet Juan & Sabine, he’s half German and Guamaltan and she’s full German, they invite me over for what turns out to be a great dinner with close friends of them. Lots of talk in German, English and Spanish about the difficulties of Central America. They are pretty surprised about my staying and working with the Bomberos Voluntarios. I didn’t realise that, but the Bomberos are highly regarded for their iron discipline and mentality.

On sunday I run in Antiqua into a procession, Easter is on it’s way. Literally hundreds of people are dressed up in purple to accompany a huge statue of Jesus carrying the cross. With all the mirr the streets are filled with smoke. It brings me back into the dark time of the Conquistadores. How nice it is to go with my bike, nicknamed in Holland as a Liberator, to go with my Liberator, El Libertador in Spanish to El Salvador, the saviour. Sounds good, doesn’t it?

Sick again. I was a few days sick in Malacatancito but it hit me again the night before I wanted to leave Antiqua. Looks like the flu or a bad cold but probably some allergy. Very tired, headache, not much sleep and I’m feeling exhausted. Little wounds don’t want to heal. So, went to the pharmacy, got some allergy medicine and some creme for the wounds. Nice thing is here, although the package says, ‘Only on prescription’, you just pay the bill, take the pills and leave. Hope to leave soon, the bike is ready.