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!