End of a Continent

I rode from San Cristobal to Comitan for my last night in Mexico. In my short time here, I have really enjoyed this country. I know I have missed a lot, but I saw what I could, and I want to come back.

About 15 kilometers from the border, I overtake 2 bicyclists riding towards Guatemala. I stop ahead of them and wait to talk to them. They are French guys who started from Vancouver, BC in August, rode down Hwy 101, into Baja to La Paz, then are heading down to Panama. From there, they will fly to Bolivia and continue to Patagonia. They may leapfrog me; I could meet them again.

The following may be boring stuff about the border crossing, but for anyone following behind, it may be useful.

Leaving Mexico, the Banjercito is very thorough checking my motorcycle; the VIN, registration, taking photos, etc. They seem reluctant to refund my fee for the TVIP they so happily collected 27 days ago.

Wow. Has it been that long since I entered Mexico?

A short ride to the Guatemalan border, and what appears to be chaos. So much different to entering Mexico. In the span of 150 feet, there is fumigation, immigration, and aduana. And a mass of humanity. There were vendors, buses, money changers, people waiting to get into Mexico, and people in official looking uniforms just hanging around.

There was a car in the fumigation area that had just been sprayed, with no one in it and no one holding the sprayer. After waiting a minute, I just rode around it. I figured if it was necessary, someone would send me back, but nobody ever did.

Next, a moneychanger walks up to me to change my pesos to quetzals. I had checked the exchange rate beforehand, so knew what to expect. When he offered a better rate, I took it. But some other people waiting in line at Immigration, mentioned that they had got an even better exchange rate than I did. Lesson learned, shop around. But since I didn't "lose" money, I felt OK about it.

The line entering Guatemala didn't appear to be as long. I parked just outside the immigration building and was maybe fourth or fifth in line. I just showed him my passport, told him I was just passing through on the way south, and he stamped my passport for 180 days. That was it. Except, that wasn't it. If you are riding a motorcycle, you need to tell them, so that they can fill out a SAT form for you to take to the aduana next door. I didn't, and got sent back.

The guys in the official looking uniforms flagged me over and again I parked right in front. The line wasn't long but the wait time was. After I got to the front, I got sent back to immigration for the form that I needed. Then with my driver's license, passport, and registration, they filled out a bunch of papers and directed me to a door where a nice smiling man cracks it open, just enough to collect your paperwork and 160 Quetzals, before closing the door again.

After a few seconds, the nice smiling man cracks the door open again and hands you paperwork to take back to the man at the aduana. After a quick look at my moto, and the attachment of a sticker, I was officially in Guatemala. If insurance is required, I don't know and haven't asked. Maybe I should have, as it turns out...

I made my way uphill past the vendors lining both sides of the road, the long line of vehicles waiting to enter Mexico, and the mass of humanity and dogs that filled every other square meter of the crowded street. I got out of the border area as fast as possible and made my way to Huehuetango for the night on wonderful twisting, curving roads. Not to say they were smooth, they weren't. But they were sure fun on the motorcycle.

I am pleased to report that there aren't any topes in Guatemala. The speed bumps are still there, but they are now called tumulos. Still, there doesn't seem to be as many, so that's a plus. Also, there is competition among gas stations, with various prices.

In Mexico, one gas station, Pemex, with one price throughout the entire country. I heard this may be changing, in fact, I think I saw a couple of 7-11's selling gasoline in Guadalajara. And I even read somewhere that Pemex now has gas stations in Texas. 

If I ever needed to hire a driver to get something, somewhere  yesterday, I think I would hire a Guatemalan chicken bus driver. These guys can drive! The old school buses are souped up, painted up, decked out and haul ass! They don't like to wait, so get out of their way. And the passengers better get on or get off quickly, cuz the bus ain't waitin' around!

I used to work next door to a bus sales dealer, who would tell me where all his old school buses used to go. Now I've seen it for myself. They seem to be the primary transportation in Guatemala. I don't know what distances they travel, but they are in rural areas and also in cities. Each one is decorated different from each other, and named. Whether they are independents or company owned, I don't know. All I know is if I see one in the mirror, to get out of its way.

Also, in Mexico about 60 kilometers from the border, I started seeing the little 3 wheel Bajaj Indian or Peugeot taxis. There are even more of them in Guatemala. It appears that for more than 2 persons, it would be a very cramped ride. But they are certainly nimble.

The next day, I headed for Guatemala City. The road was curvy and twisty and great fun. Sections were really bad at times, but nothing  difficult for my WR250. I'm really glad I brought this motorcycle. It is not too small, and light enough for me to pick up.

Road signs are extremely scarce, I have noticed. I had wanted to go to Lago Atitlan but missed the turn. At elevation, it was cold, so I stopped at a restaurant for soup and some coffee to warm up. I met some English speaking folks who said the turnoff to Panajachel was 30 minutes back. As it was getting late in the afternoon, and after my previous night travels, I decided to forego it. I got a photo looking down on the lake. That will suffice for now.

Expedia said almost every hotel was sold out in Guatemala City. But I thought, surely I can find something on my own.

Guatemala City is the most populous in all of Central America. The traffic was horrendous. To make any progress, I was threading cars, trucks, and buses through various lanes just like the locals do on their motorcycles. I stopped at a really nice looking hotel that I passed, which Expedia said was sold out. I thought perhaps they hold rooms in reserve that they don't share with the internet travel agencies. But they truly were booked up.

By this time, the sun is down, and I haven't found a place to stay. I see an auto motel, which I have been reluctant to stay at, but decided to try because of the situation. 

I pull over in their driveway, but I hit the curb which tips the bike over a little bit to the left, into traffic. I never drop the bike, I am holding it up with my left foot. But the woman behind me was so close, that something on my bike scratched both doors on her passenger side. I can only think it was the lock to my Pelican case, because everything else is soft luggage.

In any event, she stops in the lane, backing up traffic, and starts rattling something in Spanish. Man I wish I could speak it better. I apologize to her, even though I think she was way too close, and ask her how much she wants. I don't have insurance for Guatemala, and I am sure if the police are involved, it will be totally my fault. She makes a phonecall to, I think her Dad, and comes up with a figure of 800 Quetzals. That is just over $100 USD, so without negotiating, I gave her the 800 Quetzals and she left happy.

Then, I ask the guy at the motel who is standing there watching everything, if they had vacancy, and he said no. Great!

So I rode on, and saw a Starbucks. I stopped there for the wifi, not the coffee. When I was in Mexico, everything worked on my phone as though I was in the USA. In Central America, I bought a data package, but in 2 days, I was warned that I had used 80% of my limit. With free Wi-Fi, I began searching for a hotel in earnest.

I found one place on Expedia that wasn't sold out for the night and quickly booked and paid for it. I spent the next hour riding around, stopping to see where I was on Google Maps, making adjustments, and finally arrived at the hotel. Where they told me that they didn't have my reservation.

After some phonecalls, the clerk finally got information that I had indeed paid and had a reservation. I was shown a crappy room that cost as much as the really nice place I stayed at in Sahagún City, Mexico. I am pleased to say that I got an upgrade to a less crappy room.

Turns out however, there was no water, and the airport flight path was right above us, but there was secure parking! No shower in the morning; they turned the pump on or filled the tank, whatever, after I was dressed and ready to go. But no matter, I didn't spend the night on the streets.

The next day, I rode to Antigua. That has been on my list from the start. I had wanted to take an intensive Spanish school course in either San Cristobal de las Casas or in Antigua. With the impending deadline of meeting Susan in Costa Rica, I have had to forego the schools. But, I still wanted to see Antigua.

I booked a hotel early so that there wouldn't be any problems. But the hotel wasn't where the directions said it would be. I am sitting on the side of a street trying to figure out where the hotel was, when I hear in English, "You're a long way from home." A young woman walking her dog, stops to help. I told her the situation, and that I couldn't find my hotel. She thought a moment, and said she knew where it was, and to follow her. Long story short, it wasn't there, it had  closed or moved, someone told her where another hotel was that was owned by the same people, and so she had me follow her there. It turns out that a mother owned one hotel and her daughter owned another, and the one where I was booked had indeed moved. A few phone calls, and someone arrived for me to follow to the right place. Thanks again Keri, for your kindness helping me find the hotel.

I wish I had just found a different hotel on my own, and called Expedia to cancel. The bathroom was dirty, the sheets were thread bare, and theroom smelled like a teenage boy's bedroom. But there was secure parking!

I walked up the hill to Cerro de la Cruz and a great view of the volcano and city below, then into the town. There was a huge mercado with hundreds of little stalls selling just about everything. I ventured in deeper than any other tourists were going, and since it seemed that the items for sale were all food or household goods and not crafts, I made my way back to the periphery. I bought a thick, leather belt for about $8. I probably paid too much.

A lot of tourists visit Antigua. Quite a few stay. I heard a lot of English being spoken.

The next day, I was headed for El Salvador. When the roads weren't well marked (most of them) I would pull over and check where I was with the GPS and make adjustments to stay on track. I came to a place where the road I was on, split into 3 roads. While looking at the GPS, a man riding a Valkyrie stopped to help. The Valkyrie was a big motorcycle that Honda made back in the 80's and 90's. It had the same engine as a Honda Goldwing of that era, 1500 cc , but was considered more of a cruiser type motorcycle. I have always liked their looks, and when he stopped, it really caught my attention. It was definitely out of place in Guatemala, where most motorcycles are usually no larger than 150cc's.

Rafael spoke only Spanish, so conversation was difficult. I told him that I was headed to El Salvador, and he tried to convince me that this wasn't the shortest route, even though Google Maps said it was. I think that it was the shortest route to the Capitol, San Salvador, but not the quickest to the border. Anyway, after much discussion, I decided that I didn't really need to go to San Salvador, I have been there already, and it is just another big city. He was going to Esquintla, Guatemala, and that was on the way to the coast. So, I followed him to the only toll road I have seen in Guatemala, a perfect 4 lane divided highway. It wasn't long, but it was a nice change after the roads I have been on.

Rafael even paid my toll, against my protestations. He did let me buy him an orange juice when we stopped a short time later. Though he talked to me as though I understood Spanish, most of what he said I didn't understand, but I did grasp that he and 3 friends of his had ridden their motorcycles as far as Colombia, and had even ridden to Dallas. You meet the nicest people on a Honda. I realize that I am dating myself with that last sentence. For younger people, that was an advertising slogan from the 60's.

In any event, I headed to the coast towards hot weather. Antigua was at 5100' elevation, and the mountains around it were over 7000'. So it warmed up quickly as I headed to sea level.

Determined not to ride in the dark, and after bypassing several dodgy looking places, I found a hotel on a beach that really ate into the budget, but was as nice a place as you could ever find. It was at the end of a long dirt road, similar to the one that my friends took me on, to the community of expensive homes in Mexico.

I rode up to a guarded gate, where the guard had a semi-automatic pistol on his belt, and asked for a room. He seemed surprised that, first, someone arrived by motorcycle, and two, showed up without reservations.

But they did have a room, and it was a premium hotel with a price to match. After the 2 previous nights, I decided to splurge. The view, the beach,  and the facilities were worth it.

My roommate for the night

As I move south, there are more and more armed guards. Usually they carry a shotgun with a pistol grip handle. It is not at all unusual to see a Coca-Cola truck, for instance, stop for a delivery where the driver gets out on one side, and the guard gets out on the other. You really can call shotgun here when you get in a vehicle.

The main road that I came in on, was the same road that Google Maps said that I needed to take to get to El Salvador. It would have meant a lot of back-tracking. But I zoomed in on the map, and where the coast road ended, there was a canal. I zoomed in some more, and saw Embarcadero. On the other end of the canal, another road ended, that went straight to the main highway to El Salvador.

Zooming in again, I saw Embarcadero there as well. So, I asked a waiter at the hotel, if I could take a boat or ferry from the one road to the other. I figured there would be a boat for passengers, but I wanted to know if I could get my motorcycle on it. He assured me that I could. So I headed to that town and the end of the road.

I arrived at the water where several boats were waiting for fares. One guy came running up and definitely wanted my business. You can see from the size that it was nothing to accommodate my little motorcycle, but I asked if I would have to wait until the boat was full. He assured me that we could go right then, so after negotiating a price, I rolled my motorcycle onto the plank of wood between land and the boat. At the last moment, another guy jumped aboard, and we were off.

It was a beautiful little ride with birds on the water's edge; we even saw a big iguana swimming in the water. I think that even surprised the boat's captain. We passed a few boats going the other way, some full of passengers, and the one with the autos.

At the other end of the ride, I had to have help unloading, as the motorcycle had to come off backwards. There were plenty people around to help. That water taxi was a highlight of my day and saved a couple hours of travel, if I would have had to re-trace my route in to the beach hotel.

Then I was on to the El Salvador border. There is a lot of activity at the crossing. Unlike between Mexico and Guatemala, this time there were a lot of people going into El Salvador. I used a "helper" to speed up the process. These people wait around for someone like me to supposedly speed up the exit and immigration process for a fee.

Jorge spoke English, had lived and worked in California, and had returned to El Salvador when the recession hit in 2007. He had me cut in front of lines when I needed to see an official in person. The rest of the time he was running around, bringing me forms to fill out, getting photocopies, getting the motorcycle permit cancelled in Guatemala, a new permit in El Salvador, Immigration process, etc.

Did it save me time? Probably not. But I think it saved me waiting in line away from my motorcycle, because he did most of the legwork.

Several buses of young kids arrived about the same time as I did, all coming from a Christian youth conference or something, so that would have been a very long line.

Anyway, I am now in El Salvador, slowly working my way south. Another beach hotel, but fortunately not as expensive this time. Have to decide where to next.