23 March, 2001

Leaving early, we made it to Esquipulas, on the border in time to find a hotel just before dark. The town is famous for its church and people make pilgrimages to worship here. Our understanding is that a Pope has been here, they have a "Black Jesus" (there is a carved Jesus in black wood) and many miracles have occurred here. Therefore, the town is packed with hotels. We looked around and after being told -- with straight faces -- nutty prices, we found the cleanest hotel yet for Q50. Perfect. We ate a simple dinner of chicken, rice and beans with a great marinated jalpeño salsa on the table in a jar. Tried to buy one, but all the jars were huge and it seemed like too much work to explain that we wanted only a little.

We decided to check out the church briefly, and were glad we did. At night, it was mesmerizing. Candles burning at different alters, dripping wax on the steps and a man cleaning up after the constant melting. Very beautiful.

The morning warmed up and we hurried out of town and crossed the border into honduras. Well, let's just say, it was a trying experience. First, we were literally assaulted by kids and young men crawling on the car. They were offering their services to help us across the border. We hired a guy our first time in Guatemala and we'll never do it again. It's not necessary with Steve's spanish and they'll try and take you for fake taxes every time. Anyway, it took a forceful Steve and an upset Beebee to get them off the car. They still followed us in to migración (immigration). Border crossings are stressful enough without dirty, poor children hanging on to you and telling you they can help.

We managed to get out of Guatemala fairly quickly, but Honduras. Wow. This is the only truck border crossing from Guatemala and we'll go out of our way from now on to avoid it. It took us two hours to clear the border.

You stand in line, hand your papers to a guy behind a window and they sit there. Then he picks them up looks at them, takes them out of the room, comes back and sits back down to his typing (with one or two fingers usually). We think the papers just sit alone in that other room, but who knows. After another 10-15 minutes, he gets up, picks up your papers and takes them away. You wait another while and he brings them back and tells you to go to another window.

Repeat process here.

Then you go to the bank. Wait in line for half an hour, people cutting in front of you, you getting mad and tired, then the bank guy tells you you need a copy of the document you just handed him. The copy place is a block up the dirty, hot road and you'll loose your place in line. So then you smile and nearly beg him to do the transaction and you'll bring the copy back. He says okay. You clap you're so happy and the people around you look at you like you're nuts. They figured this anyway, since you're a gringo. Good job for helping maintain the stereotype.

But you're not done yet. Go back to window number one. Wait while someone else puts your papers aside. Wait some more while she types your papers up. Take them to a third window. Here, they are pretty quick. Then on to the next window. This too is fairly quick. You're done. Almost. There is a semi parked in front of your truck. But it's your lucky day, he's about to drive away just as you're about to scream.

Total costs were as follows: 20 lemps per person for a tourist card (visa), six lemps for photocopies, 336 lemps for the right to drive our vehicle within Honduras and an additional 120 lemps for some vehicle-related permit. The exchange rate was about 15.3 lemps/dollar. So after getting across the border, we decided it'd be a fun idea to take some dirt roads around Honduras since we'd missed the chance in Chiapas. We were right, it was fun and beautiful. We went the wrong way a couple of times, but people were friendly and helpful with directions. Dark was descending upon us and we thought we were close to a small town. Large enough to have a couple of hotels and something to do. HA. We pulled into the most bare town we've seen in a while. We asked the sheriff dude if there was a place to stay. Not an official hotel, he said, but he'd personally escort us out to the soccer field, where we could spend a lovely night.

Well, the soccer field is inaccessible except by foot. Hmm. We were stuck on a narrow, narrow rock path, rock walls on either side of us, about 30 Hondurans in front of us, and nothing but backing up behind us. Poor Steve and even worse Beebee. She's not real fond of being a spectacle and boy! that's exactly what we were.

Well, we backed up, slowly, half the town watching us and then drove a ways out of town where the sheriff dude was positive we could camp. But that field too was fenced off. Okay. Back to the town square where Bb swore she wasn't going to spend the night. Ugh. The car was covered with leaning, sitting, curious Honduran boys and young men. They didn't want to talk much, Steve tried to engage them, but they just wanted to watch the gringo show. Bb was terribly uncomfortable, so much in fact, she holed up in the sweltering car alternately crying and trying to sleep. The idea of having that many men she didn't know in the only personal space she owns was just too much for her. She finally crawled out of the car and told Steve it was time to eat. She couldn't believe all of them sitting and resting on the car, not talking.

After dinner -- there was one tiny comedor, a local woman's table in her back yard -- we went back to the car and low and behold! they were still there. Bb was mortified. "Well, screw it, she thought, if they want to watch my every move, so be it." So she brushed her teeth. In the street. Took out her contacts. On the sidewalk. Got her clothes out for bed. In the street. Boy this was fun. All the while about 40 eyes followed her. She really was absolutely NOT going to climb up the ladder and crawl into bed with all these people (Honduran men) watching. So in the sweetest voice she could muster (she assumes it was much like her friend Lisandra when she greets men in small towns) she said, "Buenas Noches!"

Well, had she known that was all she had to say… They dispersed immediately. Whether it was the "good-night" or the fact that it was the first time she'd spoken, she'll never know. But next time, she's got a trick up her sleeve.

The hillsides out here were just perfect. So green and wide. In a word, bucolic.	Beebee offering her binoculars to a young Honduran. He was impressed by the binocs, but not the beautiful Motmot in the tree. He sees them all the time. Lucky kid.	The Motmot. Taken with the digi through the binoculars. We're still a little shakey at this. Our apologies.	Many puddles on the road. Whee! Steve had great fun with this one.	You hear about coffee growing methods. Which are good for the rain forest and which are bad. Neither are good for the forest, but shade grown coffee is happier coffee and at least some trees remain, which leaves a home for the Motmots and other birdies.
The parque central of our little town, La Virtud. At least the natives were friendly…	Well, this is where we spent the night. Right on the street. Just on the edge of the square. Hi there, how ya doin'?	We stepped out of our hotel on the way to Mass and almost stepped on the little legs! Bb got quite a kick out of this.	More of the very pretty landscape.	Quiz for the day: What do you do in this traffic situation?

We ended up in La Esperanza for the night and were amazed (and disappointed) by the dishevelled mess that is the capital of that department. The most unfortunate part of it all was that hotels were, in a word, overpriced. The best that Steve managed to bargain down to was about $12 US for a room that anywhere else we have been in Guatemala or Honduras would have cost more like $8. Oh well, we got a good night's sleep.

The opals Bb didn't buy	Happy Bb with Mercedes, the opal seller and her son	The dust on the road was like baby-powder and got absolutely everywhere	Beautiful tree on the roadside	Supercute baby cow

Happily fed, we loaded up the truck and pointed south to Tegucigalpa. We weren't particularly excited about the prospect of hunting down a hotel there, it is a big city, but we did want internet access and thought it would be fun to find some other travelers to chat with. Steve had also promised a good friend that he would pick up some Landcruiser brochures from Central American dealerships and we figured that the dealer would be in Teguc (pronounced Tay-goose).

We found our internet cafe readily enough and had a good connection. It had been a while since we had been online so we enjoyed many wonderful emails and even took some time to write back immediately to some. Fortunately we didn't write too long as we were shocked to discover that the place was charging 60 lemps/hour. That's about four bucks and more than twice what we usually pay. The cafe, incidentally, was located in a huge shopping mall that could have just as easily been in downtown San Diego. It was a bit of a culture shock to be in the heart of so much gross consumerism after spending two days driving through villages where the net worth of the entire village is less than what some of mall-shops probably have in their cash register on a given day. But the people watching was entertaining, and we must confess that it was somewhat pleasant to be in surroundings that were so familiar. And clean.

Finding a hotel was a hassle, our guidebooks almost never mention parking so we have to drive or walk all over the darn place looking for something affordable and safe. Finally found the Hotel Krystal where we managed to park in the entrance of their underground parking lot. Despite the attendant's assurances that we would fit under the concrete cross beam, we decided not to risk the tent's integrity (and there was no way we would have fit anyway). The hotel was another classic example of a place that was probably very nice once upon a time, but where they hadn't renovated or fixed anything in years. Still, we were happy to have a shower and a comfortable bed with no people standing around watching us get ready for bed.

The oddest thing about Teguc was that the place was just about empty. We walked around in the evening looking for some dinner and some travelers and couldn't find anybody at all. After walking around for a while, we weren't too surprised that there weren't a bunch of travelers, the downtown area where we were staying really isn't all that great and certainly not a destination in and of itself.

Seeing as how our funds were dwindling, we figured we might as well fill up at an ATM. For the life of us we couldn't find one that worked! Odd since we have had luck in several other Honduran towns. The ne'er-do-well hotel did, however, take VISA, which is always a nice way to stretch the cash a little.

Lenca woman in La Esperanza wearing a traditional head scarf.	Pretty church in Tegucigalpa.	What we think to be the gubernatorial building, but heck, we don't really know what it is.	Check out the neon lighting around Jesus this shrine. Groovy baby.

The border was only a few hours away, and after getting ourselves unlost in the city and driving through some of what used to be shanties but are now becoming houses near the outskirts of town, the drive was easy.

Crossing the border was easy too, but took forever. Leaving Honduras was quick and simple, as it should be. Entering Nicargua was interesting. It may have been our most pleasant crossing yet, but it certainly wasn't the fastest! We had to skip from one window to another, to another, to another. Each time the person behind the desk seemed almost as unsure as we were about what we had to do next. Having said that, each person was extremely friendly and very earnest in their attempts to help us out. The friendliness was probably a big part of what took so long as each person wanted to know where we were from, where we had been, where we were going, how we liked this or that… Finally got across in a good mood, but in a little bit of a hurry as it was now becoming afternoon and we still had some distance to cover to get to Estelí.

The road to Estelí was under construction the whole way. Dusty. The town itself was decent, but no great shakes. We found a fine place to stay, Hotel Alpino, that was inexpensive, quiet and clean. Steve was determined that here we would finally run into some travelers, but after walking around for a while, we really hadn't. We finally bumped into two Canadian cyclists who had been on the road for 10 months. Very interesting, but we were all beat (and Bb was starving) so we didn't really converse all that much. Too bad, they seemed like nice folks.

We ate at the pizzeria right next to the hotel and enjoyed a not-too-bad pizza. Seems that in Central America they don't quite understand the idea of putting tomato sauce on the crust. Sure, they dab a stain on, but we are almost always left thinking, "This would be really good if they just used a little more pizza sauce."

Upon parting with them, we agreed to meet up if possible at the hotel. Well, we got to town around 2 p.m. and drove around the entire place about three times before giving up on finding the Hotel California, much less any other hotel. We decided, reluctantly, to push on to Managua. We say reluctantly because we realized that Managua was about twice the size of Teguc and we've decided that finding a hotel for Sandy in a city is more trouble than it's worth. It's a nightmare, really. So with a sigh, we hit the highway towards the city.

About 10k out of Tipitapa, Steve spotted the Motel California, a run-down place on the side of the road.

"What are those green tarps hanging in front of each room's car park?" Beebee asked Steve.

"Well, I think those are to hide the cars from peeking eyes. They rent the rooms by the two hours here."

"Oh. Why don't you go in a look. I'll stay in the car."

Steve came back in about three minutes. "Well, it's pretty clean …"

We headed on down the highway. We did realize though, that the airport was right here. Not in Managua at all, but on the edge. If we could find a decent hotel, we wouldn't have to go into the city at all.

We drove by three other possibilities that all rented rooms by the two hours. Generous eh? Well, we were determined not to go into Managua and it was getting late. And then, low and behold, we got a flat tire. First of the trip. The amazing thing was, we were literally across the street from a llantera (tire repair place). The guy fixed our tire for about $1.50 U.S. in about 10 minutes. Steve, however decided to take this opportunity to rotate the tires. Why we didn't just pay the guy another two bucks to do this, I don't know, but we spent another hot, sweaty hour rotating them ourselves. Hmm.

Then we drove back down the street and got ourselves a nice two-hour room for the entire night. It took a few tries to explain to them that we really wanted it for the whole night, but they caught on pretty quickly.

We'll skip the details, but it was an experience. Each room has it's own car stereo speaker that turns on and off by a dangling cord with a switch on the end. We got free condoms with our soap and toilet paper. We had no sink in the bathroom and we think there were bed bugs. Wheee!

But we slept a bit and weren't too worse for the wear. Better than driving into Managua? Heck yeah.

But we never did find the cyclists.

The reggae night advertisement pasted on the wall out front of the bar connected to the hotel turned out to not be as bad as we feared it might be and we couldn't hear the music from our room anyway.

We also ran into a great couple from Holland (Denmark?) who is driving around in a spiffed up Mercedes van that had Steve rather envious. Apparently they have been travelling that way for quite some time and have had time and money to act on some of the improvement ideas that they've had. Steve looks forward to fixing up our mythical (for now) next expedition vehicle in a similar manner.

We are enjoying Nicaragua very much so far- the people are just fantastic- much more pleasant and friendly than their counterparts in Honduras and Guatemala. Guatemalans have the very good excuse of having suffered greatly at the hands of outsiders, we aren't quite sure what was going on in Honduras. In the interest of clarity- Honduras don't seem malicious, it is just that they aren't particularly friendly, either. People accustomed to the "mind your own business" mentality of most large U.S. cities probably wouldn't even notice the Honduran attitude, but when you've been in Mexico and Central America for a while, it is a little bit discomforting when people don't return your waves of hello.

A cross in a graveyard just outside of Granada.	Rice paddies along the roadside on the way out of Granada.	A typical roadside sight: This is what most people live in.

The boat ride over was uneventful and lasted about an hour and a half. We took a bumpy and very dusty bus ride out to Santo Domingo Beach and checked out two hotels before choosing the really nice one, Villa Paraíso. Even the "really nice" place was only US $25 for the three of us. Todd reminded us of just how amazingly affordable that is compared to a far inferior room in the US. Seems we've lost perspective a little on just how affordable Central America is!

The hotel overlooked the lake and had its own restaurant, but the service was just shy of deplorable and the food not all that good. The setting of the hotel dining area was awfully nice, despite the service.

Volcan Madera that we didn't climb.	This capuchin monkey was thirsty and not a bit afraid of people.	A little friend that we didn't want getting too friendly.

The awful restaurant service at the hotel continued. It is almost as if they just don't really care about the guests. Too bad. Despite bikes locked up outside our window and a sign offering bicycle rental, there was no bike rental available, bummer.

On the plus side, we spent most of our time lounging on the lava sand beach, in the hammock or on the patio, reading. Very nice and relaxing. Swimming in the lake was an odd sensation for people used to ocean swimming. The huge lake looks like an ocean, with very small waves, but the fresh water leaves the "wrong" taste on your lips and isn't nearly as buoyant.

We considered the seven hour hike up one of the volcanoes… but decided that we just didn't feel like waking up at 5 a.m. to slog up a muddy hill. It is probably beautiful, maybe someday we'll go back to see it.

Fleeing the bad service at our restaurant, we headed elsewhere for a couple of meals, which were good, but there aren't a lot of options on that part of the island so we just resigned ourselves to enjoy the lovely setting and each other's company.

We got up early to get off of the island and still have some time to hang out at the beach in San Juan Del Sur, but it took the better part of a day to take a bus a few miles and catch a ferry. It should have taken about two hours but the first bus was late, then we stopped for some breakfast when the waitress assured us she could get us out of there in less than half an hour (the food got there at about 32 minutes…), then we grabbed a very dusty bus around the island which arrived to the ferry just a little too late, then we misunderstood (or were misled) and missed the next ferry, then we finally caught the darn thing and made it across to the mainland. At least we learned some good lessons along the way: don't ever sit in the back of the bus on a dusty road unless you like breathing and wearing dust, always confirm departure times with at least one person, and don't ever order food at a restaurant if you are in any sort of hurry.

Once we finally got off of the island, the drive to San Juan was only about an hour, and totally uneventful.

Upon arriving in San Juan del Sur, Steve bartered a little bit of computer know-how with the owner of a bar/internet cafe for some time on the web while Todd and Bb enjoyed a soda on the sparkling balcony with a great ocean view. The barter was a good thing as regular priced web access was absurdly expensive at US $10/hr! We followed the owner's advice on a place to stay with parking (there appear to be very few said places) and although it looked pretty nice, El Pacifico was expensive (US $40 for the three of us) and not worth the price. There was no hot water and the owners ripped us off on exchange rates. It wasn't a big enough deal to put up a real stink, but it sure isn't a good way to bring repeat business.

For dinner we took Todd out for truly scrumptuous seafood at El Timón - his seafood soup was excellent and Steve and Beebee had great fish. We then headed back to the hotel and stayed up late chatting by the tiny little (but perfect temperature) pool.