28 December 2017 – Today I am going to cross the border from
Honduras to Nicaragua. Oh God, that damn alarm is going off. Can’t I stay in
bed until 8:00 a.m? Actually, I woke at 3:30 a.m. begging God to let me go back
to sleep until 4:30 a.m. Nope, nerves weren’t going to let that happen. I laid
there awake thinking about crossing the border today. 4:45 I got out of bed and
started this day. I could already hear the trucks heading to the border. I
brushed my teeth and set about loading my motorcycle. Those of you who know me
personally will actually laugh at how I do this:
1st - the shaving kit and shower shoes in the right saddle
bag, paper work and laptop I put in the top box and Blanche my GPS is put back
in the handle bar mount and locked. I put the paddle locks on the top box and
wire tie them immobile. The right saddle bag is locked.
2nd – The bottom bag is carried out with bungee cords. It is
put into place and bungee corded in place. If I have access to open sky I send
a Spot personal locator beacon to Mary letting her know I’m leaving the hotel.
Sometimes this isn’t possible because of trees or I’m in a concrete jungle and Spot
can’t find a satellite. She will find a satellite if her view is not blocked in
less than ten minutes. My cell phone will rattle when Spot finds a satellite. I
then know a message has been sent to Mary.
3rd – While that’s going on I get my 2nd bag, bungee cords
and netting that holds it in place. Electrical cables must be in it along with
the motorcycle cover. Also, must bring along spare water and the kickstand
block. By this time, I will have received a message saying a message was sent
to Mary. I put Spot back in the bottom bag and continuing securing the 2nd bag.
I push in the spare water bottle between the bag and top box on the right side and
put the kickstand block in between the two bags up against the top box on the
left side. Double check everything is secure.
4th - Back to the room and grab the tires and any other
extra water. I put the spare tires on top of the top box. Center them up on the
box so I can see through my mirrors and bungee cord them down. From here on out
I’m going to lock them on my bike. I have seen one too many hungry eyes looking
at them. There have been a lot of comments about how nice those tires look.
5th - With that all done, I go back to the room put on my red
Aero-Stich riding suit and double check that everything is out of the bathroom,
check the bed for lost money, keys, electrical cables and sometimes check under
the bed. Give the key and TV remote back to reception and depart.
Leaving today is a little more challenging. Somebody backed
their pickup truck into the same garage I’m in. I had to check the space between
the front bumper of the truck and door frame. I found this old handle for a paint
roller laying around. I grabbed it and checked the opening width. I then used
it to see if my saddlebags are wider than the opening. Saved by the stick. My
saddle bags were 4 inches / 11 Centimeters smaller than the opening. I can get
out of the garage. The Hotel Colonial receptionist asked me if I could get out.
I said yes. I asked her to watch that I didn’t scrape the pickup bumper with my
saddlebag and I watched that I didn’t scrape the door frame. I squeaked out into
the open without a scrape or rub anywhere.
It was 6:00 a.m. and I was running a little late. I said goodbye
to receptionist started driving to Customs and Immigration La Fraternidad. It
was a short drive and I was there in about 20 minutes. I was met by a Customs
Official wanting my paperwork. My helper immediately showed up. He started
asking for papers. I asked him for a moment please while I take them out of my
orange folder. The Customs Official compares the title of my motorcycle to the
paper work. Everything matches up. I have to get something copied. He then
wants to copy my passport, driver’s license and title. I said, moment please I
have copies. I give him 2 copies of all three items. These copies are in color
not a poor quality gray. There’s a lot of talk about that. Next is Fumigation.
They spray the wheels with some kind of insecticide. There’s a fee for that.
Something like $3 USD. Then it’s down to Immigration.
5 minutes or so later, a tour bus comes in and unloads 50
people ahead of me to go through Immigration. My helper tells me that for $4
USD, you can go to the head of the line. I told him I would stand in line and
wait my turn. I stood in line for 20 minutes and not one person moved. Not a
single soul. When they started processing passports, 4 people had bribed the Immigration
Official and jumped in front of the line. They ate up another 10 minutes. All
the while this tall American is standing in line watching this. Eventually the
line starts moving and moving pretty quickly. By time I reach the window my
helper is standing by me. Everybody in front of me had their right hand
electronically finger printed, then their left hand and then their thumbs. I
watched how it was done so when it was my turn I didn’t get hollered at. They
also take a photograph. Here’s some irony: the Immigration Officially scanned
only the fingers of my right hand. He didn’t scan my left hand or my thumbs. He
also didn’t take a photograph of me. Now I’m worried; was something skipped
that will show up missing when I reach the Nicaraguan / Costa Rican Border?
More things to worry about. I have to assume everything was done correctly. Now
it’s off to Customs / Aduana.
I have to wait for an English speaking Customs Official. My
helper is running around, doing what, I don’t know. He’s been trying to run
down the Customs Official that needs to speak to me. About 20 minutes later he
shows up. He brings a form asking all kinds of personal questions like are you
I married, are I divorced, do you have any children, what is your job, how much
money do you have on you, US Dollars, do you have credit cards, how much money
do you have in the bank, etc. etc. My blood was boiling even though he was
asking all these questions very nicely. Like he was a good cop. I was wondering
when the bad cop was going to show up. He left for 15 minutes and then asked
some funny questions. “We have it here that you left the United States 15
December 2017”, he said. I could hardly keep from laughing out loud. I told him
I left the U.S.A. sometime around the 13th or 15th of November and he left.
He came back again and asked more questions, I can’t
remember about what. The last time he came and asked if I filled out a letter
to the President of Nicaragua asking for permission to enter the country. I
said, no. He said, that is a regulation and that people like me have to fill
one out before you can enter the country. So, he goes and gets the form which
he and I both fill out. When we get it filled out he says to take a picture of
it and e-mail it to these two e-mail addresses. I tried four times to e-mail
the form. My cell phone won’t e-mail very well unless you have a strong wi-fi
signal. At least not down here. So, he comes with somebody’s cell phone and
takes a picture of the form. He then e-mails the form to whoever.
In the meantime, an English speaking family comes over
asking why it taking so long for me to get imported in to Nicaragua. I tell
them about the letter I didn’t send in and all the personal questions they were
asking me. They asked how long I had been waiting and I told them about 4
hours. They were pretty shocked. It took them less than 2 hours to get
processed through Customs, and that was with a car. Of course, they were Nicaraguan
and spoke Spanish. The wife was from the U.S. and husband was from Canada with
family in Nicaragua. I think he may have been originally from Nicaragua. They
asked, me about my motorcycle travels. The lady asked me if I’ve ever been
scared and I told her, yes. I also told her that if she ever decided to travel
like myself that she must think the best about people. If you can’t, it will be
a difficult journey. They shared some type of fruit with me and said it was
good for stopping diarrhea. He said the seeds of the fruit are what stops the
diarrhea. Well, I’m going to keep an eye open for that particular fruit. They
left with their friends, wishing me a safe journey.
I sat there waiting
and about every 20 minutes the English speaking Customs Official would come
over and tell me to be patient it will only be a little longer. Eventually, I
was called over to sign some paper work and pay a fee for insurance and road
usage fee. A few copies were made and I was given all the appropriate paper
work. I was free to go. I gave a tip to the Customs Official and we went
outside. I put all my paper work back into their appropriate folders and then I
paid my helper. He wanted U.S. Dollars. I told him I only had Honduran Lempira.
He asked for another 100 Lempira so I gave it to him. Then I saw him give it to
the Customs Official.
I asked my helper to find the money changing guy. I tried to
get face value for my Honduran Lempira in Nicaraguan Cordoba. He wouldn’t hear
it and undercut me by $20 Dollars. I tried to bargain higher but it was no use.
So, I accepted his exchange rate and took my Nicaraguan money and left. I went
back to my motorcycle and checked that everything was in order: passport,
driver’s license, motorcycle title and cell phone. I said goodbye to both of
the guys. I had to stop at the check point up the road to give one form to a
Custom Official and one form to some other official.
If you would ask me how everything went going through Customs
and Immigration, I would say this, it wasn’t anything really difficult. It took
time and everyone talked in a civil tone of voice. I believe if I would have
wanted to ratchet up the stress level it would have been very easy. Being calm
and not being pushy probably made the experience more bearable. I read one
motorcycle rider’s opinion of Central America Customs and Immigration. He
basically said that no U.S. citizens would put up with standing in line for 30
minutes / 1 hour and not have it move. They would riot. I thought about that
all the time I was waiting in the Immigration line and while waiting for Customs
/Aduana to complete my paper work.
I was now through Customs and heading to Somoto for
gasoline. I had close to 300 miles / 483 Kilometers on my tank. When I filled
up, the gas station attendant ask me how I was going to pay for the gas. It was
over $16 USD / 500 Nicaraguan Cordoba. I guess not too many motorcycles come
into his gas station and he put in 4 gallons / 16 liters of gas. I paid him and
he was happy. A lot of younger guys were looking at my bike and admiring it. Several
people took pictures and one guy want to take a picture of it with me. I needed
a break from Customs and Immigration, so I pulled an apple and a Snickers candy
bar out of my top black bag. I found a place to sit down and ate them both
together thinking how glad I was that I’m through that border crossing. It
could have been much worse.
After my break, I saddled up my trusty steed and started
driving to Hotel Boutique Colina Real, located in La Thompson. I found it on
the Google Maps and it looked just right for me. I was using GPS coordinates to
locate it. Blanche, my GPS, put me dead nuts on location where Google Maps says
the hotel is. When I get there, there is no hotel. I drive farther into the
city and still no hotel. I had Blanche search out another hotel for me. She
found it off the PanAm Highway. I drove there and I went inside. I asked if
they had a room. They said they did. I asked if they had secure parking for my
motorcycle. They didn’t. They said I could leave it parked on the street and
the night watchman will watch it. I
didn’t. I declined his offer and left. While I was talking with this guy, I saw
the Hotel Boutique pop up on Google Maps again. I went outside to see if I
could find it again, with no luck. A couple of girls came out of a clothing store
across the street from hotel. I asked them if they knew where Hotel Boutique
was. They answered me in English and said they were from the United States and
didn’t know where the hotel was. I told them I was also from the U.S. They
hurried off and were gone. I did spot a Burger King thought, which I locked
into memory for later. I turned around
and drove back out of town.
I saw an old guy who looked a little ornery and maybe has
been in the area for some time. I gave him the address of the hotel and he
recognized it and said it’s 1 mile / 2 Kilometers down the road. Luckily
traffic was light and I could look around a little more than usual. I passed
the one kilometer mark and I kept going. I saw the sign at the last moment and
drove by the hotel. I stopped and turned around. I drove to sign and made a left
turn to a side street that went up the hill to the hotel. Nothing but pot holes
and ruts. This can’t be too good for business. I get to the gate of the hotel
and drive in. I ask if they have a room and they did. It was the perfect hotel
for me. My motorcycle was out of sight. I unloaded and covered it up. I also
noticed one of my bungee cords was missing. That ticked me off. Somebody must
have stolen it at the last hotel. I didn’t have it covered up and plenty of
traffic was running through the garage those two days. Nobody could have stolen
it when the bags sat on top of it when it was pretty much out of sight. So, it
was ripped off by someone in the Hotel Colonial or the truck that blocked the
doorway. I have to make a note to myself to cover the motorcycle anytime it’s
setting for the night, even if it is in a private garage. I went to bed early
because I had been awake since 3.30 a.m. and the border crossing was intense. Tomorrow
I will concentrate on getting this blog updated.
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