How to drive Honduras in one day

Well, in about twenty four hours anyways. Brian and I rented a house in Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica for the month of December, so we have to pick up the pace a little. We decided to give our sweet Claudette a break from the trials and tribulations of the road for a few weeks. If you are in the area, stop by and say hello! We will whip up some some beans and rice and fried plantains for you!

One last thing thing that we really wanted to do in Guatemala was go to see Tikal... a little touristy, but well, well worth it. A little out of the way, up in the northern Peten region of Guatemala, about a days drive to get there. The ruins are situated in deep jungle. Walking under  gargantuan trees to the screams of howler monkeys a hundred feet up in the canopy, we could almost smell the blood of sacrificed virgins. 

The fastest route to Honduras from Tikal was a little border near the river town of Rio Dulce. That night Brian and I had definitely the cheapest and one of the tastiest Thanksgiving Dinners ever for less than $10 consisting of a coca cola in the glass bottle, some street tacos and a couple queso funditos (cheesy goodness in a tortilla). We reminisced about our families a lot and pecan pie a little. 

Books and websites and other travelers warned us about the chaotic and frustrating border into Honduras. We were mentally preparing ourselves for an outright battle. But when we got there, it was a little different than expected… it was empty. No money changers grabbing your sleeves to get your attention, no kids begging for money, just a few officials at their windows, ready with their stamps poised for a passport or two. It was eerie. And awesome. And then we were in Honduras. 

Already pacts have been made about returning to Central America, as all we did in the entire country of Honduras was boondock for the night at a truckstop and eat a few tasty meals. Not what Honduras deserves. We will be back. It was almost an equally easy transition in Nicaragua. 

Funny how we haven't even crossed the Darian yet and plans are being formulated about another trip down the old Pan-American highway. 

I love how a kid is flying a little plastic bag kite out of the back of the truck. 

Is that still considered a pot-hole?

Jaguar crossing!

Big trees with jungle vines in Tikal

The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah...

An unofficial guard to one of the temples. 

Temple 

History is fun, kids!

Mayan queen!

One of the hardest things down here is all the strays. Breaks my heart. Spay and neuter your pets!

Yes, that is Brian playing on a see-saw at the Honduras border. Yes, that is a man sleeping in the background. 

Brian feels left out that he doesn't have a machete. Anyone who is anyone has a machete. 

Pretty evening in Nicaragua. I think those bags look even more comfortable than Claudette's front seats. 

In Guatemala, a pair of underwear costs 5 Quetzales (or about 70 cents).

Guatemala. Taking rear wheel drive conversion vans where they have never been before. And probably shouldn't go. I feel like we have entered this country a month ago instead of a week ago.

One of the few the few spots on the map we knew we wanted to hit before we left Portland were Antigua and Tikal, both in Guatemala. A good friend, Annie V. had lived off and on in Antigua a few years back and had slipped me a note to give to the bartenders once we arrived. I knew it'd be good for making a friend or two and and perhaps a few stiff drinks;) Well it worked! It worked so well, they stapled the note to the back of the bar. Annie must have made quite an…impression. Its a must see if one finds themselves in Antigua. They make their own Mescal and celebrate the depraved. Visit if you can- cafenose.com (thats Cafe No Se, not nose..) 

the note

Nothing beats a 3:30 wake up knock by the hotel help during a Mescal and cervesa induced sleep. Nothing. Something about tres hombres and corre, and ventana and I knew it wasn't good. I went down to check it out and discovered the rear window broken and our three big duffel bags gone. Errr…? All our clothes (except the ones on our backs and those garments jammed into the cabinet in the van), all our jackets and cold weather gear, and all our underwear/socks! Gone! I got Linds and we guarded the now very vulnerable van until morning. Over coffee and some breakfast we got over our loss fairly quickly. These were just "things," easily(though costly) replaceable, and no-one was hurt. The bigger problem was the van, our home had a huge hole! Its an older rig- a 1994 and a conversion van at that…I thought for sure that we had just booked another week in town waiting for parts.

dang!

A long story made short- after pulling into the first carwash we came to and explaining our plight, two complete strangers (and immediate friends) dropped what they were doing and spent the next six hours with us collecting parts and somehow wedging a window of a different size and shape into the rear of our van. Unbelievable. Linds and I bought the crew some fried chicken and watched in amazement as they widened the hole with a metal grinder and fabricated a fix. They even took us to a tint shop after the window was in so we could match it to the rest of the van. We were blown away by the kindness of these strangers. 

Thanks Edwin!

all better.

The following day we woke up early and jammed north, hoping to make a tiny town called Lanquin near a national park called Semuc Champey. As if the prior day wasn't exciting enough, I hit a small bus with the van about halfway there. It was the most exciting thing the folks of Sacapulas had ever seen. It wasn't major, just a scuff really, but it was our fault so we had to see it through. After hours of negotiating we gave the driver $421 Quetzales and an American twenty and were on our way. At dusk. And a little shaken. And then we met THIS GUY!

Amedeo Urizar. Make sure you get gas from him in Ustpatan.

This man was awesome. He not only let us sleep at his gas station, but he gave us a killer tour of the town and took us over to his sisters house for dinner. We even got to check out the towns underground (literally) radio station after dinner. Thank you Amadeo Urizar. 

Illegal radio.

river going underground

Semuc Champey. A natural limestone bridge formed when the Cahabòn River goes underground in a narrow canyon only to reappear 300 meters later. What really takes this place over the top are the pools formed on top of the bridge by springs that flow from the sides of the surrounding canyon. Our "Drive The Americas" book explained that the place was reachable by a 20 kilometer "dirt road." It did not tell us that is was a one lane muddy trail that descended over 2500 feet. Talk about a white knuckle affair. We drove/slid down this road at dusk the following day and hoped that this place was as good as we'd heard as we might be there until a 4x4 pulled us back out to the top. It was awesome. We camped near the park and swam the morning away as the sun dried the road and made the way passable for our poor, battered van. 

the pools on natural bridge above river

cute girl in front of waterfall

Tomorrow, Tikal.

roadblocks.

chicken bus!

market days are domingo and jueves. forget about driving through town. 

pothole?!

Lost and Found

Imagine a moderately sized city, with cobbled narrow streets bustling with vendors, taxis, and buses all competing for an opening in the traffic. Now insert children and stray dogs, playing games without regard to the passing vehicles. The mostly second story buildings are all of one body, no crack or crevice lives between one business and the next for whole blocks at a time, becoming something of a tunnel effect. All but two or three streets are one way, dwindling into gravel lined dead-ends. Now you are probably imagining these said streets well signed, giving label to their direction or whereabouts. Erase all those signs in your imagination. Driving through these cities, which look like a small round point on our map, turn even the most courageous driver into a child on his first day at school. 

"Border" days are big. You get up early and put on your bravest face. Though it does get tricky to stay brave when you get lost for over an hour just attempting to leave the "border" town just to get to the border itself. There are multiple stops to get the number of documents needed, just as there was in Tiajuana. But at the Mexican-Guatemalan border, we had an entourage, following us from building to building. There were about 5-6 kids under 10 years old, some money changers (pesos to quetzals), several guys trying to get hired as "border guides" and 4-5 guys just watching the spectacle of it all.  I am sure the kids and men were just satisfying some curiosity or trying to catch some business, but all their presence did was make the already stressful process more frustrating. Brian later told me that one of the boys, who was hanging off the passenger door as we were finally ready to leave, was begging me for a kiss. 

Did you know there is a whole language in the honking of a car horn? Americans mostly don't honk unless someone is about to directly run into them or if it is coupled with a curse word and "the finger" after someone has cut them off. Brian and I are definitely still getting used to the constant blaring of horns…and we are beginning to understand it as  a logical means of communication more and more. Some of the translations are "Im coming around the corner!""Im passing an alley!" "Hey amigo, hows the new baby?" "She's doing great, thanks for asking! Oh, and I need to borrow your ladder tomorrow" "These cars are not moving fast enough for my tastes!" and "Im passing you gringo! Like the van!" and so on and so forth. 

We got lost in two more cities on the way to our destination, a volcanic hot springs regaled as the most beautiful in Guatemala (with camping!). Without our Lonely Planet Guatemala, which is who-knows-where, just not in the van, most likely in the storage unit under the Morrison bridge back in Portland, finding our way to these kind of places is going to be interesting. The sky was getting darker and darker and when we were just about to turn around back to the last gas station to try and stay there for the night, we saw a sign for the hot springs!

As we leaned up against the steaming walls of the almost-too-hot pool, our bones softening and our skin delighting and all the frustrations and stress slipping away unnoticed, Brian said that the day couldn't have ended better. I wholeheartedly agreed.

The next day driving was as easy as the previous was difficult. We drove a few hours to lake Atitlan, which was just as enchanting as the rumors made it out to be.

Its not over yet Mexico, ra-ha-hahaha!

The suburbs

Guatemalan highlands

Dont hit anything!

Yep, were in the jungle.

Fuentes Georginas hot springs!

Lots of elevation gain... we were driving above the clouds!

Guatemalan topes!

Chicken buses... they are everywhere...brightly decorated to match the driver's personality. Brian has vetoed my request to paint Claudette like one. And yes, some carry chickens on the roof, haha! 

Lake Atitlan

Brian is liking the new Guatemalan beers

Sweet camp spot.

Shakedown Street!

"Both foreign and local drivers [in Acapulco] report being pulled over by police on trumped-up charges. Especially on  weekends and being pressured to pay a fine to avoid being hauled into custody."-Lonely Planet. More on this later...

Acapulco came in two parts...We got into town at around 4:30 on friday night and wanted to spend one night- catch the cliff divers at La Quebrada and blow out the next morning to Puerto Escondida. Well, catch the cliff divers we did and how! I think I saw these guys on espn2 about 15 years ago. They walk down through the gathered crowd and hurl themselves off a 40' cliff into a narrow slot of white surf. Then they climb up the opposite wall to a height of about 100' and after working the crowd for a few minutes they air it out. They time the swells so when they hit the water is deep enough not to die. Crazy.

Climbing..

Huge.

Minchelada bar in the trunk of his car!

The second chapter of Acapulco occurred on saturday morning as we were leaving southeast on the Mex200. You got it, pulled over. Now we've been expecting this and had rehearsed it on the drive. But to be honest, after over 2000 miles in Mexico, and having nothing but pleasurable interactions between us and the Federal and Municipal police we were....optimistic. Sure enough, they said we had ran a red a pedestrian stop (not a chance) and showed us a sketchy table of infractions and fines. About $4700 pesos.. ($400 US). We gave them my international license, just a fancy photo in a folder from AAA I bought for $20- not a legal lisence. Then being Saturday, they said they needed the plates off the car and the registration and we could get them back when we paid the court on Monday. Hmm. Think Brian, Think.... I put my hands out like they were awaiting handcuffs and said no. This stalled them for a second, but did not defuse the situation. Lots of rapid spanish ensued, and they said they could collect the money and "pay" the fine for us on Monday, while we went on our way. I was drawing a blank....They mentioned something about "no molestar & setenta dos horas." We knew this was just a scam and that we had very little risk of actually going to jail, but could not see the cheapest way out of the situation. And Bam! Lindsay did the best thing she could have and let flow some alligator tears. A lot of em. We had found the weak spot in their armor!! The offered to take just $2500 pesos. "No." Then $2000. "The most I can do is $1000." Then $1500....then a big wail from Linds (atta girl!). Then $1000. "Ok." So $1000 pesos lighter we made our way to Puerto Escondido. If it happens again, I wont speak any spanish and we'll do a lot more crying. Lindsay's high school drama class experience was priceless. Don't worry moms and dads, we had the situation entirely under control ;)

To make it all better, we surfed the Mexican Pipeline all afternoon today at La Punta in Puerto Escondido. Great times, and we look forward to the waves in Costa Rica even more now.

all better.