September 18, 1997 R80G/S 28277 R100GS 19562 Cuilapa, Guatemala We left Antigua, heading for El Salvador. It's difficult to cross Guatemala without crossing through the center, Guatemala city which all of the nice paved roads fan out from. Looking at our map, we found a route that would allow us to avoid going through Guatemala city. Driving south towards Esquintla, the road is paved for 7km, and then turns into dirt and gravel. It's a quite an understatement to say that Sharon doesn't appreciate dirt gravel roads. However, driving through heavy Guatemalan city traffic doesn't rank very high either. Choosing the lesser of two evils, we turned on the dirt gravel road which lasted for 20km and passed between the volcanoes of Agua, Fuego, and Acatenango. While the new Bridgestone dirt bike tire I put on the R80G/S felt quite noticeably more unstable on pavement, it worked great on the dirt/gravel road as it was intended. It took us approximately 1.5 hours to cross the 20km of dirt, however this included a lot of rest time for anxieties to cool off. I would expect an experienced dirt rider to do this on a dirt bike in less than 30 minutes. During our last cool off period, a local came up to us, and told us about the condition of the road ahead, and the surrounding area. He told us to proceed slow, and that it is not a good idea to stop like we are doing since we then become easy targets for bandidos... We thought we were past all that. We hopped on our bikes, and road the rest of the way. I did notice that every man or kid carries a machete... and they're always the really long ones. Along this route, we did our first real stream crossing on the bikes. Fortunately, the sand/gravel around the stream was volcanic giving lots of traction even when wet, and so the crossing was a no brainer. Early on, we crossed what looked like a dried up river bed which when raining on top of Volcano Agua, looked like it could be a mess. When we hit pavement, again it was wonderful. While Guatemalan dirt roads really suck, their paved roads are often nice. At Escuintla, the road was four lanes divided with shoulders on the side, and hardly any traffic at all. However, just when we thought we were out of hell, Chac snickered, and it started pouring rain. The sweat soaked clothes never had a chance to dry. The rain continued for the next five hours with an occasional 10 minute break. We kept our speed below 50mph since I was riding with a new dirt rear tire, that seemed unstable above 50mph. I don't know if this has to do with the fact that I have a different style of front tire (Avon Gripster which is a dirt/street cross). We pulled over and I added some more air hoping that this would help. It seemed to a bit. The nice highway from Escuintla to Taxisco is green with a change in vegetation from what we were seeing at the higher elevations the past couple weeks. It's very tropical and looks like they get a lot of rain of which we experienced today. The road Chiquimuilla to Cuilapa is also very green, twisty and hilly. If it weren't rainy, I'm sure it would have been a nice scenic road for a motorcycle ride. By the time we got to Cuilapa, we were exhausted. Our choices where stay here, drive to Juitiapa 57km away, or drive another 107km to El Salvador. We stayed. Cuilapa, is another dive town like Sanarate. There's a good reason why it's not listed in either of our guide books. I asked around, and found the only hotel this town has run by an old overweight spanish speaking Chinese guy who also runs the video arcade across the street. Since it was the only hotel in town, he didn't hesitate charging monopolistic prices. For 60Q ($10) we got a powder blue painted cement box room, with a bed. the shared bathroom was outside two doors down. It was as basic as a hotel room could be, but clean. For an extra 35Q we could get our own bathroom, but decided that in this case it's not worth it. While we were both sticky, the electrical contraption of the shower head scared us away. I have a real problem with house current wires going into the shower head. Every time the lights dimmed, I couldn't help thinking another victim took a shower. We slept for a couple of hours, and then I went foraging for food. I didn't find any restaurants other than the little comedores which look like an extension of someone's home, and will serve only the most basic of food. While I really like some of the variants on beans and rice, I have a problem with the hygiene standards of some of the dirt cheap comedores. A week chained to a toilet is not worth the risk. Yearning to find a hunk of Emmanthal and a bottle of cab, I returned with two heart shaped ice cream bars, and a bottle of 7up of which I visited 9 shops to select from. I ate banana bread that we had brought from Antigua, and Sharon snacked on her left over corn pops cereal from yesterday morning's breakfast. ...a bit of a change from all the wonderful meals we had in Antigua and Panajachel. September 19, 1997 R80G/S 28370 R100GS 19650 Apopa, El Salvador There's seems to be a shortage of nice hotels in Eastern Guatemala. Checking into Cuilapa, we had second thought about staying in that town. However driving on the next town of Jutiapa, we're glad we stayed. Things didn't look much better. It was a pretty drive to the border at San Cristobol through a remote hilly scenic woods, however the paved road was rough. The last 500 meters driving up to the border, we were navigating through people, and around trucks and busses. People set up road side stands as a market for El Salvadorean who cross into Guatemala on foot. Trucks which usually park off to the side while the drivers get their paper work taken care of have to park in the street since the sides of the streets are full of market stalls selling everything from shoes, purses, clothing, etc. At the Guatemalan border post, we were aggressively solicited by boys who would help us with paper work, and money changers. The the paper work help isn't really necessary if one speaks a little spanish. In immigration, I got an exit stamp which cost 10Q, In Aduana, got a vehicle exit stamp which cost 20Q, and in for the department of agriculture, I got a stamp for 10Q all on a piece of paper that was my pass to leave the country. The money changers were offering 1.2 colons to the quetzal. I too easily bargained it up to 1.3. and exchanged the remaining. On the other side, they were exchanging at 1.4. These small central american currencies are not published in the Wall Street journal. The local papers I've seen post their local currency to the dollar rates. It's difficult to find out what the official exchange rate is before hand. The only way to do this is, to feel out several money changers, and hope for the best. While the difference we lost was only a buck through this transactions, that's still two beers. Afterwards, I found out that the banks trade Colons at 8.5 to US$1. Street changer will exchange at 8.4:1. On the El Salvadorean side, visas are required. We got two at the border for US$10 each. The rest of the processing fees amounted to 10 colons ($1.18). This was among one of the cheapest border crossings yet. There were no questionable fees, and the border guards were very friendly. However it did take over an hour to get all the paper work completed. We were on the road again by noon (1.5 hours total). All the school kids were being let out for lunch, so there were school kids every where. One of the first things I noticed was the population changed to mostly mestizo, where in Guatemala, except for in Guatemala city, we mostly saw indigenous people. Also, there are a lot more people walking around. The population density here is the highest in Central America. There are 5.5 million people in about the same amount of land that in Belize has 200k. The rumors about bad drivers in El Salvador were overblown. Sharon and I were shocked when a driver behind us waited until he could see there was no oncoming traffic, and pulled all the way in the oncoming lane before passing us. We haven't seen this since the States and or Belize. My impression of El Salvadorean drivers is much higher safety-wise than Guatemala or Mexico. However, we didn't go into San Salvador. The terrain is beautiful with mostly steep green hills/mountains with an occasional volcano. Much of it is difficult to farm however from the road we could see people attempting to grow corn on the side of these hills. Frequently there are adobe homes made from rocky mud layered in between horizontally laid sticks. This is sometimes covered over with a cement plaster. Apparently these homes are much safer in earthquake regions than the typical cement homes common North of here. It's easy to enter El Salvador, and leave the same day, However we wanted to at least spend a night here. It's kind of funny that at the border crossing, rather than ask where in El Salvador we were going, several people asked if we were going to Costa Rica. I would guess it's common for people to blow on through El Salvador and Nicaragua just to get to Costa Rica. The things to do in El Salvador are climb the volcano, and visit the lake, and get to know the people.... Neither the volcano nor the lake, I'm told, are as impressive as where we had just come from. Feeling a little behind in our plan to get to the Southern tip of South America, we opted to pick up the pace through this country. We stopped off at a ranch/nursery which our guide book said they were planning to have a place to stay. The ranch wasn't quite ready for that, however they did have a restaurant, of which we ate lunch at. We were tired, and it seemed we might have to drive all the way up to La Palma to find a hotel. The little towns along the way didn't have hotels, and it was looking like San Salvador or La Palma. Not wanting to go into the big city, and not having the energy to go to La Palma, we asked if we could pitch a tent here at the ranch. The acting manager though for a while, and then said it would be fine. We had dinner there, with some Ace Pilsner beer, and then at 6:00pm since we had no light or electricity except for our flashlights, and no place to hang out, we retired to our tent. We were so exhausted, that soon after, we were asleep. Many of the people speak spanish with a lisp, I find it's more difficult to understand people here than even Guatemala. September 20, 1997 R100GS 19773 R80G/S 28499 In the morning, we met Lena, a Norwegian who came here for 4 days 2.5 years ago, and still hasn't left. She works at the ranch, and writes English articles in the Antigua (Guatemala) free tourist magazine. She's collecting information for a book that she is writing on El Salvador. She sounds like a tourism promoter for El Salvador talking about all of the wonderful things to do in El Salvador, and how most people drive on through.... :-) We told her we were planning to be in Norway next summer, and she convinced us to go visit her home town, where we could drop by and say hello to her dad. In La Palma, we found a nice place called Hotel and Restaurant de Montana which we stopped for a little brunch. It's nice to find these little oasis places along the way... We had scrambled eggs with cilantro and salt, thick delicious tortilla, beans, white soft crumbly cheese, perfectly grilled sweet plantains. and a light roast coffee for 35 colon each ($4). Like Guatemala, the tortillas are thick compared to Mexico. However, the El Salvador ones are thicker and we like the taste much better. They are too thick to bend, as they will break. They are eaten with the meal like bread is in European cuisine. Northern El Salvador... nice rolling hills... green. road deteriorates though. We approach the border. On the El Salvador side, I go to immigration, and then to Aduana (customs for vehicles) and get the appropriate stamps cancelled in our passports. Fortunately, traffic-wise it's a slow border, and the one person per station can easily handle the load. Afterwards, I went over to the police station to get my final stamp. The young cop puts down his Tetris gameboy, opens a drawer in the desk he is sitting at, reaches behind the 40 or so shotgun shells lined up in the drawer, and finds a pen. He writes down the exit information of the vehicles, and our drivers license numbers. Meanwhile, another cop comes by and picks up the Tetris game and begins to play. The whole process took about 15 minutes. I exchange the last of our El Salvadoran colons for Honduran Lempiras with a money changer on a bicycle at an exchange rate of 1;1.47. It's a better rate than I had heard quoted from the hotel/restaurant owner in La Palma. On the Honduras side, a guard raises the gate, and as we pass, about six kids run at us, all yelling out "6 stamps", offering their services to help us through immigration. This had happened when leaving Guatemala, and turned out not to be necessary, so at first, we declined the offers, saying no thanks, not needed. While Sharon watched the bikes seated at outdoor comedor/restaurant with a soda in hand, I went into the immigration office where there was one person sitting behind the counter. He handed me an entry form which I filled out. I left the spaces blank where it asked my address in Honduras, and where I was going. He asked me to fill these in, and when I said I didn't know, He filled in Copan, and picked some hotel called "Hotel Marina". He held on to our passports, and sent me on to the vehicle control. At vehicle control, there were two women seated. I told them I have two motorcycles, They asked where I was going, and how long I wanted to stay. I told them, "Copan, Hotel Marina and Northern Honduras", and that I wanted to stay for 14 days. They talked between each other for a few minutes as if this was something new for them and they weren't quite sure what to do. They then said they have can give me an 8 day or a 90 day vehicle transit card. The 90 days would cost $23 for each vehicle. I asked if I could pay less, for fewer days to which they said no, so I agreed on the 90 days. However they need my passport first. I went back over to immigration, and told them I need it. He said, that it would cost me $5 each, for the stamp. Short on American cash, I went out to Sharon through the rain to the restaurant, and got all the US cash she was carrying. Went back and paid the $10, got our passports and left immigration. In the vehicle office, I handed over our passports and titles to the woman I had been talking with. Just then, a curly haired small pock scared guy wearing a gold chain and gold Seiko watch, came from the side of the room picked up the passports and titles, and enthusiastically said he could help. As I didn't seem to need his help, his taking over seemed intrusive. He said that we would need his bosses signature, and that his boss was gone, and may take a while to come back. He said there was another immigration office in the town just 2km up the road where he could get the signatures. Feeling uneasy about being singled out and pulled away to some other immigration office 2km away, I declined and said, "no problem, I can wait". He then replied, he may not be back until tomorrow, I said "I have a tent, I can sleep here". He said ok. About 5 minutes later, a hispanic american came up to me and told that the guy was going to town to take his papers up. I felt a little more comfortable, and so I reapproached Curly. Curly put my passports and title in a folder, pulled a gun out of his drawer which he stuck in his gut, and headed for his pickup. Seeing our passport and titles disappear, with this nobody to who knows where and for who knows how long wasn't cool. I asked if I could come along. He said yes. When in his pickup, he told me that however, it will cost for the ride... I asked how much? to which he nonchalantly said "only 20 lempiras". What a shmuck, I'd rather give up US$1.50 than risk our passports and titles disappearing. The other American was more trusting, and let his go. I later found out that Curly's name was Dennis. While in his pickup I made small talk with Dennis hoping that talking to him he might begin to see me as a person more than just a North American wallet. It was pouring down rain, with the road barely visible, His pickup drove about 30mph before an intense wobble emanated from the wheels. Dennis seemed quite used to this. After a little bit, I regretted starting small talk. He replied to my questions looking me in the face for 4-5 seconds at a time not watching the road as we drove 35mph in this wobbly pickup making me incredibly nervous that we would soon have a head on collision, or end up in a ditch. I was somewhat surprised when we actually did pull up to another office, where his boss came out and signed the three passports. As we drove back two tow trucks where attempting to clear the remains of two semis that had head on collided and left a huge mess on the road. Back at the border, a boy who I agreed to let help was instructed to make photocopies of my passport, title, and exit stamp from El Salvador. Next door, we waited for a few moments for the clerk to return, meanwhile I turned on the copy machine to let it warm up. Afterwards, It was explained to me that the copy machine was privately owned, and so as such, I will have to pay 8 Lempiras for the 8 copies. With the copies in hand, I handed all the information to the woman vehicle clerk who I had first talked with. For the next 20 minutes, she typed out on her type writer all the information from the titles, passport, etc onto the carbon paper forms. Meanwhile I talked with a man named Alan who was sitting next to her, and to 3 boys who were watching one of which was my red tape assistant. Alan asked what my name was to which I told him 'DahVeed'. With an air of confidence, he turned to the others and told them my name was David, and explained to the crowd that in English my name is David and in Spanish it's 'DahVeed'. I talked about little stuff for a while. I told them about Champaign Illinois and how I was surrounded by 200km of corn on a flat plane, and how much I liked the beautiful green mountains here with rivers running through. After a while I could tell the clerks were warming up. Alan disappeared and returned with some glossy tourist brochures with pretty pictures of Honduras. Alan told the boy to show me the posted sign of tariffs which was in an obscure room normally out of site of visitors. which I looked at. There was a $20 exchange for vehicles licensed outside of Central America. There are two extra $.50 fees posted as well. However, the sign doesn't say that it is a complete list of the charges. The woman showed me that printed on the form was a 100 Lempira fee for the form which I paid to her. Dennis, then pulled me into his office, and showed me another receipt form which tallied up to 349.80 Lempiras per bike or 699.60 Lempiras total. Still thinking in Quetzales which is 6Q:$1, I was feeling a bit shocked at the price, and I still had three more stamps to go. I argued down 200 telling him I already paid for the form to the woman, and so we settled on 549.60 Lempiras. I had my red tape boy find a money changer. The bargaining with the money changer he agreed to exchange cash at rate of 12.6L:$US1. I changed $100. Now having properly oriented myself to think in Lempiras. I went back and paid the amount. I then went to the agriculture department, where my red tape boy and his friend said I would have to pay 50 Lempiras per bike 100 total. I told them I already paid everything. In the office, the guy in charge of the agriculture stamp stamped my form and didn't charge me. The boys were shocked, and talked amongst themselves for the next 2 minutes about it. For some reason this guy didn't take his cut. Later, I found out that he had gone over to the restaurant for lunch where Sharon had befriended everyone including this guy talking to them about various things. I went back to the vehicle office who then forwarded me to the police. The police said it would be thirty. I think he was cutting me some slack off his normal take. However, the stupid kids asked several times why it's not 50, until he finally said, It's "thirty!...." and to save face "...for each bike." I paid the fee, got my stamp, and headed back to the vehicle office where I got a final signature from Alan, who didn't ask for a kick back. Brain numb from this three hour ordeal, I tipped the red tape kid $3, which I later read was about 3 times the going rate. I left feeling more than annoyed having just passed through the expensive, corrupt banana republic border crossing for 963 Lempiras ($76). Since we crossed the two borders so quickly, and camped the night before, we hadn't yet mentally prepared ourselves for this one. Afterwards, Sharon read the guide books which said that each of the border crossings charge different amounts, and even the same one will charge different rates on weekdays, Saturdays, and Sundays depending on the personal working there. The last thing a country in need of tourist dollars needs is a reputation for corrupt border officials that rob incoming tourists. I feel a legitimate amount would have been $26 each or $52 total which is still higher than any country we've passed so far. Requiring 6 department approvals paying each one separately at a border crossing is prime for corruption. I can pay the extra, or waste a lot of time fighting it, and potentially getting no where. Putting it into perspective, my time is worth more to me, and they know it. Standing up for the principal of not paying some disguised extortion is a battle I have little interest in fighting at the moment. [Later note, I ran into another person carrying a Bolivian passport who crossed with a truck on a different day at a different border. His cost was the same which later made me feel better.] The road from the border to Santa Rosa was beautiful. True to rumors, the roads are the best since we left Texas. They're new wide smooth roads that wind through the gorgeous green mountains with views of the valleys below. It's a very scenic ride. While it seems the government recently put a lot into the roads, very little seems to have gone into repair. Along the 90km (60 miles) to Santa Rosa, we probably encountered a dozen places which were either, covered with washover rocks, boulders fallen from above, dips in the ground as the underground shifted away. etc. In one area, 5 km from the border we had a stream crossing. where on this beautiful 4 lane highway, the nice pavement was completely covered with large rocks with a stream running over it. Sharon doesn't like stream crossings, so I forded this part of the highway. In addition to the occasional stream in the highway, there are more free roaming cows, horses and dogs on the highway than anywhere else so far in Central America. Fortunately, the extra loud horns on our bikes usually get there attention and they mosey on out of our way. A new obstacle to look out for are wooden go-carts that the locals use to transport goods down the hill, or to play on. The roads are so smooth, that the tiny wheels work fly down the hill. Hotel Maya Land. We checked into the hotel Sharon had heard good recommendations about, and that sounded good in the book. Our hotel room had a bathroom. The shower came with one of those electric shower head heater devices that plug directly into the wall. I had successfully talked Sharon out of not using the space aged looking La Doucha Caliente 2000 in Cuilapa two nights ago, and last night since we camped out, we didn't have a shower. Now that she was going on her fourth day with out a shower, and being cold and tired, she wasn't about to listen to me. She looked up the showers in both the guide books, and surprisingly, they did have a section on these. They warned, "try not to touch anything metal while under one of these or you could get an electric shock. It _probably_ won't kill but it could be pretty uncomfortable." Earlier in the day at La Palma, we had met a Peace corps guy who was brave enough to take a shower in one of these and said that they work pretty well, except that often, the fuses are blown out in more than half, and so they don't work. Sharon took her shower despite my annoying pleads. Halfway through her shower, I hear a bzzzzzzzzz, and then relax as I realize it's the cicadas outside starting up. I hear another bzzzzzzz, and a moment later realize it's a strange sounding truck outside. As she's taking a shower, I notice the lights are dimming on a semi regular basis. Ten minutes later, Sharon comes out and tells me she had a nice shower. Since I don't smell burnt flesh, and her hair isn't wigged out standing on end, I believe her. She tells me the trick is to only put the water on at a slow trickle, and it comes out nice and warm. I looked closer at this shower head. It's a commercially made "Maxi Ducha Plus" plastic encased head which is obviously mass produced. The wires from the shower head extend 4 inches towards the wall, but since the shower head is attached to a pipe which sticks out horizontally two feet from the wall, the wires are not long enough. Two of the three wires are electrical tape wrapped where they are attached to a longer pair of wires which then plug into the wall. The ground wire off the shower head is wrapped around a support bare wire which holds the additional weight of the shower head up and is anchored into the cement wall. This *safety* ground wire is therefore not used. On the side of the shower head it has written the power consumption requirements. This shower head is rated at 110 Volts, 4000 watts, 40 Amps. This is 3-4 times more power than my 60's vintage radial arm saw requires, Twice as much as a typical 110 Volt arc welder requires. I've only seen special outlets in the US for this kind of amperage, however this one uses the same kind of outlet that might be found in the states for 20 amps or less. One thing of note though is that of the two outlets, on the wall, one has a prong (probably the hot wire lead), that the plastic has melted around. The other outlet which is the one currently used by the shower head has the same. When I attempted to unplug the shower head for my shower, the plug fell apart. One of the prongs seems to have spot welded itself to the hot lead of the outlet, while the other portion of the broken plug came out. Despite not having a shower for three days, I decided to take a cold sponge bath using the sink. While we ate a late dinner at the hotel restaurant, we could tell it was a common time to take a shower as the lights kept growing dim as hotel guests were executed. It rained hard the rest of the evening September 21, 1997 Copan, Honduras As usual, I woke up early. Later, I surprised Sharon with a breakfast delivered to her in bed from the hotel restaurant. Two blocks away, there is a cigar rolling factory that I wanted visit. Unfortunately, it was Sunday morning, and it was closed, so we had to pass. Beautiful roads winding through valleys and Mountains. Hondurans are proud to say they have the best roads in Central America, and it's true. Excellent country for motorcycle rides. Have to watch out for all the cows and horses though, and go carts. Sharon found us a nice hotel At the market bought some Rambutan (Leeche) and cigars As we were walking down the street Sharon spotted on the ground a red fury-like fruit skin. We got excited when we realized that was rambutan, a fruit that we hadn't seen since SE Asia that tastes most similar to a fresh leeche. In the market here they actually called it a leeche even though it's a very different _looking_ fruit. We asked a near by store clerk where the market was, She told us it was right across the street. The market in this town is tiny. However, in it we found one person selling it at what seemed a high price at 3 Lempiras for 2 rambutans. We bought 6. Also in the market, I saw a woman with a bucket of cigars. All of them obviously hand rolled. I asked how much, and she told me .70 for one, or 1 lempira ($.07) for two cigars. I bought two. I later smoked one. it was a little dry, and hard to keep lit. It was not bad tasting starting out, but quickly got worse. I gave the second one away to the first person who would take it. September 22, 1997 Copan, Honduras We walked out the 1km out of town to the ruins. There's a hefty $10 entrance fee, and $5 for the museum. While Tikal is the most impressive Mayan sight for size of the ruins, Copan, is by far the most impressive for carved stone work. One comparison given, Tikal was the New York city of the Mayan world, while Copan was the Paris. Around Copan, they have beautifully ornately carved stone stelae, or statues of kings and queens with dates, and other hieroglyphics carved in. Copan is known for a large stairway carved stairway where each of the stones in the staircase is carved giving the history of Copan since the beginning. The only problem is when it was restored, the Mayan writing had not yet been deciphered, and the steps were not assembled in their original form. Around the turn of the century, The Carnegie Institute sponsored a large archaeological expedition to this region around the turn of the century. They restored part of the ruins, With the stones, and carvings they didn't know what to do with, they created what are now called GOK piles (God Only Knows), making it difficult for today's restorers to figure out what went where. We had seen the National Geographic's video on Mayan culture while in Antigua. This video focuses mainly on Copan and it's restoration. It's a good video to see before going to Copan, or any other Mayan sight. Sharon was really getting into taking pictures here since it was a picture perfect day. Afterwards, we went to the new museum next door where they are housing many of the originals, and putting copies outside. The centerpiece of the museum is a perfectly preserved real size duplicate of the temple called Rosalila?. When new mayan kings ascended the throne, they would often build on top of other temples sometimes destroying the ones underneath. Rosalila? was preserved, and is currently under one of the temples out of sight from visitors. Archaeologists have carved caves through the outer temple to see the inner. We ate dinner at Tunkul's Bar/Restaurant, which was alive with good music,nice atmosphere and good food. We were beginning to the Copan didn't have any good restaurants, as we kept striking out with disappointing meals. While Sharon had half a chicken BBQ grilled, I ordered a huge burrito. Where as in the states, every restaurant calling itself Mexican in cuisine is required to have burritos on their menu, surprisingly, we saw very few burritos in Mexico. I wonder if these are really considered Mexican. Also, in Mexico, no one, except maybe in Cancun, knows what the word "nachos" means. In Mexico, they are common, except they are called "totopas". In Honduras, no one knows what "totopas" are. They're called "nachos". Honduran beer is some of the best brew we've had since Negro Modello of Mexico. Salva Vidas is common around here and is more malty than most central american beers. It's packaged in a can for distribution in the states, however in the can, it's nothing special. In a bottle it's wonderful. Porto Royal is another good Honduran beer which is a very hoppy pilsner. September 23, 1997 Tela, Honduras We left Copan, leaving the cool highlands for some beach action in Tela. 60km South of San Pedro we pulled over in a little town in front of a small grocery store. There was one person sitting on a chair outside in the shade. He didn't stir much or say anything when we arrived. We went inside. I asked the clerk if she had any really cold sodas. Out of the freezer, she pulled out a Coke for Sharon, and a Team (Fresca or Slice type drink), for me. We drank them, and handled back the bottles. When we walked back outside, there were about 20 people just sitting around not saying anything, looking as if they had been hanging around for hours. We were only gone for 3 minutes. I think this little town rarely has foreigners visit especially on big motorcycles. The people seemed shy and very curious. Pulling into San Pedro I was surprised to see what a large town it was.... with a BMW dealer (only saw cars), signs advertising clothes with labels that are fashionable in the states, craftsman tools, another Ace hardware. Sharon saw a McDonald's at our turn off to Tela, and decided we had to stop. This was are second McDonald's since leaving the US four months ago. Like Wendy's in Guatemala, only the affluent frequent McDonald's. An armed guard stands outside. Miro painting posters decorate the inside from the Philadelphia Art Museum. As if we were in a McDonald's in Manhattan, two business men dressed in suits are in the back corner having a meeting, one waving his Monte Blanc pen as he explains something to another well dressed businessman. Behind them is a glass wall where a multi colored giant habitrail called Ronald's Play Place is and extends almost up to the second story. Another man in a starched pressed white shirt, suit pants, with a laptop computer hanging from his shoulder while eating a McApple pie as he stand by the door looking outside. We ate our number three McCombo meals, which was a quarter pounder with cheese, fries and coke. They call a Quarter pounder with cheese a Cuarto de Libre probably because they're on the metric system.... (pulp fiction allusion) As we came closer to the coast, we passed through huge banana plantations, which is where the Chiquita bananas in the US come from. We passed through some strange palm plantations which bear a red un appetizing looking bouquet of ?fruit?, that I haven't seen before. We arrived in Tela, and stop at a gas station to look at our map and get our bearings as to where our hotel is. An older African woman (Garifuna) comes up to us selling coconut bread shaped in little square dinner rolls, and a ground coconut cooked with molasses and butter and cut into squares. We bought some of each. The dark sweet coconut bars were wonderful especially with a little coffee. The coconut bread however is a definite pass. A minute later, an old man approaches us. He was a bit bleary eyed, and breath smelled of alcohol and was wearing dirty torn clothes. All of his fingers were kinked to the side at the last joint, and were puffed up. He carried a machete and a small plastic bag. He was friendly and spoke a smattering of English. He opened his bag up which contained fruit he wanted to sell us. He pulled out some rambutan, and actually called it rambutan. and he had a mango. Our eyes lit up when he pulled out some mangosteens. We haven't seen mangosteen since Indonesia which happen to be our favorite fruits. Queen Victoria once offered knight hood to anyone who could bring her a fresh mangosteen. They're about the size of a small apple with red skin. They have small curly thick green leaves coming out of the top. Under the 1/2" thick red hull, there is a creamy soft white mildly citrus flavored fruit that surround the small seeds inside. The soft white fruit will turn yellow when it becomes too old. We bought a couple mangosteens from him. He pointed the way to the beach and hotels, and so we hopped on the bike and road the additional mile. About a block away from the beach, I smell a strong scent. We drive to the end and park our bikes. I ask Sharon if she smells Durian. About thirty feet from us there is a guy munching on white fruit, that I'm certain must be Durian. This is another fruit we haven't seen since SE Asia. In Malaysia, hotels often have signs up forbidding the eating of Durian on their premises since it is by far the most fragrant fruit in the world. It has it's own unique smell, which is probably best although distantly described as a cross between the fragrance of raw onions and open sewage. Eating Durian is like smoking a cigar in that they are wonderful to consume, but it's not nice to be an observer smelling it, Both make it difficult to kiss one's significant other afterwards. While we were taking off our leathers, a skinny African guy comes up to us and says "You European? ... Canadian?", "No, from Chicago", I said. "You want some goodies? ....Hash, Coke?" "No thanks." "What, are you Christians are somethin?" Sharon went off to look for a hotel room, I suggested that she find one with good secure parking. While I waited wafts of Durian passed by as the guy 30 feet away still ate. A young guy from Colorado who has been living the past two years in Panama stopped and asked about the bikes. He was here with his family for a three week vacation. Later another skinny african guy with an American accent stopped by looked at the Illinois plates and asked if I was from DC. I said no, from Chicago, and asked him where he was from, He said New York. I asked him what part, and he said Harlem. He said that he's been here for the last two years since he lost his papers and couldn't get back. He told me about a hotel up the street with enclosed parking which charge 30 Lempira ($2.50), or 6 ($.50)if I just wanted a bed. I thanked him, and said goodbye. As he walked off, he asked if I needed any hash. Sharon came back with a couple choices. The places that charged our normal budget price didn't sound so great and with questionable secure parking. We ended up staying at the nicest hotel in town. For 350 Lempira ($27). We got what looks like a $200 room on Daytona Beach, Florida. From our wide second story balcony, we have a view through the coconut trees of the beach and Caribbean sea. One wall of our room is all glass windows facing the ocean. The clean new room is tastefully decorated, with nice wood trim accents. We have a TV with CNN (English edition!)...Woo Hoo! The air conditioner works great. The high quality sheets are percale and of a high thread count. In addition to large fluffy towels, we have hand towels, a floor mat towel, and a toilet that flushes with blue sanitizing dye! What luxury! Sharon turns on the bed side lamp and we're excited that it's actually bright enough to read by at night. No problem finding a plug to recharge the communicators here. Unfortunately, the water heater for the shower is one of those Maxi Ducha Pluses, however it looks like it is wired correctly with the ground wire installed, and an appropriate plug for the amperage. Sharon takes a shower, and comments on how hot the water is even at full blast. So as not to lose credibility in my plea against these things with Sharon when they have faulty wiring, I agree to take a shower in there remembering what the guide book said, ~Try not to touch anything metal or you could get shocked. It _probably_ won't be fatal...~ I mentioned to Sharon, we could stay in nice places like this or nicer, it would just shorten our trip. As it is, we seem to be spending much more on food than on hotel. It certainly has it's comforts. This type of place offers more privacy isolating us from meeting other interesting travellers. We decided to save it for the occasional bad day and when there is value in spending the big bucks for a hotel. Today, the reason was security for the bikes. Here they have three guards that stand outside all night. The hotel only has eight rooms, and a restaurant. In the evening, we walked around town. The hotel clerk suggested we not venture out too far, and don't cross the bridge. We listened to his advice. This is kind of a seedy town where things close early. We had dinner at our hotel restaurant, which is recommended in the guide books as among the best in town. Sharon and I ordered a fish fillet, which turned out to be a nicely grilled ~1 pound steak of grouper that was delicious. I tried the Honduran beer Nacional which I think is a distant third to Salva Vidas, and Port Royal. Listening to the shortwave, I heard about the El Nino that is wreaking havoc on Costa Rica, Bolivia, and Peru... all area where we are headed. September 24, 1997 Tela, Honduras I woke up at 5:45 to see the sun rise over the Caribbean and coconut trees. >From our balcony, I can see one of the three night guards hacking on a coconut with his machete, opening it up and scooping out the meat with a part of a shell. There are some black vultures snacking on something by a tree. Off in the distance, I see a pack of 9 dogs. They harass a bicyclist riding down the cement boardwalk. and later a pedestrian walking. These don't seem wild, but I'd feel more comfortable walking down there with my machete. Rather than bothering with getting it off the bike, I decided to hang out on the balcony and work on my journal. Around 7:30, the school kids chase the dogs off the beach with sticks and and rocks. I noticed one of the dogs had an old scar on it's side like it had felt the cut of a machete before. For dinner we I ate fried conch in a garlic, onion, parsley, butter sauce. Sharon had delicious fresh breaded and fried shrimp. I can't remember the last time I had breaded shrimp that haven't been previously frozen. Had a couple Port Royal Export pilsners to wash this down. Delicious... This restaurant (Luches del Norte), has a book exchange... I found a hard copy of Will Durant's History of Civilization part 7, 1550s-1650s. They only do exchanges, so I traded Sharon's already read paper back she bought in Cancun for this plus 3 lempiras ($.21).... What a bargain! Being the English Spanish hay days for this area, and considering the role that Spain and the British pirates played in this area, I figured it would be appropriate reading. Travel always increases my appreciation for knowing more history. We Spent the rest of the evening reading, and listening to the shortwave September 25,1997 Tela, Honduras We Had a wonderful crepe breakfast at the mi casa su casa bed and breakfast run by two canadians from Quebec. They made wonderful crepes stuffed with fruit, and served good coffee, and delicious banana raisin muffins. Usually Sharon and I can't stand papaya, however this papaya was orange like cantaloupe, and didn't have the rotten fruit taste we've grown to associate with papaya. They mixed a little of this papaya juice with the orange juice which seemed to mellow out the tartness. Afterwards, they gave us tips on where to visit in Nicaragua, Costa Rica, and Panama. They moved here wanting to start a pig farm.... however, they have been temporarily running this B&B for the past 10 months. We went to the Lancetilla botanical gardens which is a research center founded by the United Fruit company. The same fruit company that supplies most of the US with tropical fruit. In 1926, they imported plants from all over the world to grow in central america... thus Durian, Rambutan, Mangosteens, etc. We hiked through the gardens which grow all sorts of interesting plants. The mosquitoes here were ferocious. We used our 100% DEET repellent. which worked great where we put it on, however when I pulled a Bic pen out of my pocket and held it in my hand, it became sticky as the plastic pen melted from the extra DEET on the palm of my hand. At the restaurant next door to our hotel we had a late lunch. After making sure our table wasn't in the path of any falling killer coconuts, we ate on the outdoor patio of the restaurant underneath the coconut trees, over looking the beach and Caribbean sea. For lunch I had a repeat of the tasty conch served with a garlic, onion, parsley butter sauce, and a couple port royal export beers, while Sharon had a fillet steak of king fish, and a couple Salva Vida beers. September 26, 1997 Comayagua, Honduras R80GS 28874 R100GS 20121 We ate our banana raisin muffins we bought from the Quebec couple's bed and breakfast, while sitting on our second story balcony over looking the beach and caribbean. As with everyday that we've travelled in Honduras, we pass through a police check point where they wave us down and check our papers. I despise slowing down for these every time we hit one of these since I have this feeling I'm going to get hit up for some stupid infraction and will be asked to pay some ridiculous sum. However, as they all turn out, the police just look at our vehicle import papers, drivers license, and sometimes title, and then wave us on. As far as I can tell, they're just checking to see if people have properly registered vehicles, and drivers license. Given the driving styles in most of central america, I think this kind of thing is a good thing. After the border crossing however, my anxiety levels rises when I see uniformed officials. Comayagua, was the Spanish colonial capital from 1543 until 1880. All of the other spanish colonial cities (San Cristobol-Mexico, Atigua-Guatemala), have been beautiful. Comayagua seems to have lost it's charm long ago. It's not really considered a tourist stop, and as such does not have much in the way of accommodations. When we arrived, I went looking for a hotel. I went first to what I was told were the nicest places in town, which turned out to be seedy dumps. I was about to suggest to Sharon that we move on to Tegucigalpa 90km South which is the capital of Honduras. Fortunately, the last place I looked turned out to be tolerable. After a nap, we spent over an hour looking for a restaurant, and ended up at a pizza place since it was the only place that served something other than fried chicken. Restaurants larger than a simple comedor appear to cater primarily to night life on the weekends. Below our pizza restaurant, we stopped at Betsy's bakery which advertises on the glass window in Spanish, "Made with Quality of the USA". We stopped in to take a look, Behind the glass cabinet, there were all sorts of bar cookie deserts such as caramel streusel bars, chocolate chip bars, rice crispy treats, raspberry muffins, mini banana bread cakes, etc. We were looking at two iced cakes one with a B-34 peacemaker bomber on top, and another with an F-22 fighter cake. Off in the distance, a short thin energetic woman with a short gray beehive and painted eyebrows was talking in English to us about the cakes as she busily walked around doing something. She came over and introduced herself as Betsy. Her husband worked at the military base here were there were 500 American military personal providing technical assistance to the Honduran base. She had lived here for 2.5 years. She asked about us, and then she told us to be careful around here since she said it was a dangerous place. She said "You can't trust these locals... As soon as they learn to talk, they learn to lie...[that is] except for the two girls who I have clean my house and work with me at the bakery who are just angels...". She said she started this bakery because as she puts it, "the food here has no flavor". We bought a caramel bar, two raspberry muffins, a mini loaf of banana bread, and a piece of cake to eat for desert and for breakfast in the morning. While all familiar flavors and fresh, they tasted like they came from a grammar school bake sale. ...pueblo houses, made out of mud and sticks, and then sometimes covered over with plaster. corrugated galvanized tin roofs are common. True in El Salvador too. In Tela, wooden homes are common. Garifuna in Tela -------------- Dave Thompson thompson@pdnt.com Net-Tamer V 1.09 Palm Top - Registered