I got off to a fairly early start - 9AM. So far my border crossings had been easy but I had read in some other bike blogs about sketchy border crossings so I figured I needed some time. The way out of San Miguel was pretty calm, rolling hills and nice views of the mountains and some volcanoes. There were some extended stoppage periods due to construction - even for short lengths of roads, they seem to allow the other side of traffic through for maybe 10 minutes at a time before letting the traffic through in the opposite direction. These stoppages allow for a fair amount of commerce - somehow on these dusty rural roads, dozens of vendors will wander through the cars with coolers selling cold water in plastic bags, mangoes and other fruits or peanuts and cashews.
As I got close to the border, there was a huge line of semis, about 3 miles long sitting and waiting to cross.
Once I got to the border, it was reminiscent of the other border crossings. There are many roads that branch off and no signs or indications about where to go. As I rolled up on such a crossroads, with about 3 or 4 roads branching off in all directions, a single sign simply stated ambiguously "Adouana" or "Customs."
This is the sum total of the signage leading up to the border.
I would start down one road and someone in military fatigues and an automatic rifle would whistle at me and ask where I was going. I mean, it should have been pretty obvious I assumed. It still took somehow took me three tries to go down the right road and get to the administrative window where I could exit El Salvador. They did not stamp my passport, in the same way that they had not stamped it when I entered Guatemala. They simply gave me a ticket stating that I had exited the country. I then rode past the border and into a sort of no-man's-land area between the borders. There was some commerce there, people selling clothes and some food. I wasn't sure how things got set up this way. I also met a fellow bike tourer who was riding up from Nicaragua where he lived. It was his first tour and he was having a blast.
Mano and me, at the border between Honduras and El Salvador - I was heading south, he was heading north.
At this point of the border crossing, things began to get a bit sketchy. I as I neared the administrative building to Honduras, I was stopped by an official who asked for my passport. I couldn't tell if he was actually an official, he was wearing casual clothes and a polo shirt with "Honduras Customs and Border Patrol" embroidered on it. He took my passport but then, noticing a car coming from the other direction, told me he would be right back, stuck my passport in his back pocket and went and started talking to the car. I'm not sure if he was looking at the car's documents or just having a chat. Another car rolled up and he did the same thing, all the while with my passport sticking out of his pocket. He eventually came back to me and, without opening my passport, informed me that I had to fill out an online form in order to enter the country. The "Prechequeo" as he called it, contained all the regular information asked about on a customs form, but I had no way to print it out. So another guy told me he would get the information for me. Without realizing what was happening, he took my passport and ran off in the directions of one of the buildings further down the road. I was immediately nervous, as this guy was dressed entirely in regular street clothes and suddenly disappeared with my passport. The original customs "official" seemed unconcerned. I waited for five, maybe ten minutes before going to him and asking if that guy was for real. "He'll be back" he said, turning his back to me. Another five or ten minutes went by and the guy did return along with a sheet of paper with the online customs form filled out. Some information was missing, and a random email address had been assigned, but at least my passport was back in my possession.
I then had to go into another office and present my Covid vaccine information, although they did not require me to have a negative test, my vaccination card sufficed. I then entered the customs building itself, which was complete with a reminder that the Chiquita corporation and its delicious bananas welcomes you to Honduras.
The customs building complete with Chiquita door decal.
After some predictable missteps about which windows I needed to go to in order to present my information (again, a complete lack of signs), I received my entry stamp, paid the $3 entrance fee (in USD) and I made it into Honduras. Success!
On the other side of the border, the "Welcome to Honduras" sign.
The rest of the ride suddenly became more intense. I still had about 30 miles to go, it was getting a lot hotter - topping out at 105 degrees. I had also expected to be faster, but I climbed a lot of hills into some intense headwinds and I was out in the heat for too long.
My couchsurfer for tonight, Maybellin (May for short) had texted me a random location along the road, not entirely at the city limits to San Lorenzo. I figured it was her house. But no, once I finally arrived it turns out that I was meeting her at her friend's baby shower. I quickly put on my regular shoes, changed into another shirt, put on some deodorant and I was ready for a wild change of pace to what I had been doing the rest of the day. The baby shower was in some kind of event space - there was a large room where the party was held, a table for presents and a back room where they had prepared food and kept drinks cold in a cooler. Although there was electricity for the speakers to play music, there were no lights, so after the sun set, it became quite dark. I was served a delicious plate of fried plantains, rice and carne asada, just what I wanted after a difficult and hot 60+ mile ride. Then the grandmother and great-grandmother of the baby-to-be each took turns saying prayers, praying for the safe passage of the child to earth. This is something I absolutely love about couchsurfing. These are very unique cultural experiences that I would most likely not experience by chance alone. I enjoy the opportunity to learn about other customs and see how people mark special occasions in other parts of the world.
A brief clip of the prayers being said for the unborn baby, before we cut into the cake.
After the party disbanded, the husband and pregnant wife loaded by bike onto the roof of their car and drove us to May's friend's house, Tiffany, where we would spend the night. The house wasn't too far away, but it was dark and I did not have confidence both in the security of riding on the road as well as my ability to find the house, which is a bit off the beaten path, back inside a neighborhood on some rough dirt roads.
I immediately went off to take a shower. Afterwards, I sat around with May, Tiffany and their friends, Carlos and Miguel and chatted late into the evening. They played a variety of latin music on a portable speaker, occasionally getting up to dance.
May works for her father's business fitting leather products for horses as well as fitted clothing accessories like utility belts. Tiffany has a degree as a registered nursing assistant, however she cannot find local work in her field, so she works as a hair stylist. Carlos described his job as "indentured servitude" and works for an extremely low wage and long hours at a gas station - usually from 5am-7pm with no breaks. Sunday was his only day where he did not start at 5, he started at 11. So he could hang out with us, but it seemed like this was unusual for him and he didn't seem too happy about his position as a whole. Miguel had been in a similar situation, however he informed us that he wanted to avoid these difficult jobs and a friend of his had invited him to work at a restaurant in New Jersey. So he explained to me how he was planning to make his way through Central America to Mexico on his motorcycle and find a way to cross into the US and make it to New Jersey. Everyone had some kind of personal connection who had made a similar trek, including May, whose mother made the difficult journey 8 years ago and has been living in Virginia ever since, working at a restaurant. They have not seen each other during that entire time, but she talks with her mother every day and she receives money regularly thanks to the very favorable exchange rate. These kinds of situations are very common, as US visas are difficult to acquire, but dire economic situations cause people to take drastic measures.
Unfortunately, there was no power in the house and after a long day of
intense heat exposure, I was unable to cool down properly. Usually I am
used to having a fan blow on me at night. The temperature got down to
about 87 and I got a bit sick, a small bout of heat stroke. At about 4 in the morning, I recognized that I would not be able to ride out the next day, I needed more sleep and a bit of rest.
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