Our route

Here's our planned route - contacts/advice for all destinations welcome! Or why not come & meet us somewhere ;-)

Feb/March - Ukraine to Istanbul, via Moldova (& Transnitria)/Romania/Serbia/Bulgaria (Lisa); south France to Istanbul, via Slovenia/Italy/Greece (Chris)
April - Istanbul, Jordan & Israel
late April/May - north India to Nepal, overland
June/July - Hong Kong, Thailand/Cambodia/Vietnam (Hanoi)/South Korea/Japan
August - Hawaii & California
September/October - central America - Panama to Guatemala, overland
late October - arrive in Canada (Uxbridge, ON)

Friday, October 12, 2012

Dodging the police - Honduras to Guatemala

We wake early - it's a long day of travel ahead, and we're worried about what problems our missing entrance stamps might cause at the Honduran border.  But we take a few minutes to walk back up to the seafront at Omoa, since we couldn't appreciate it properly after last night's post-sunset arrival.  We really like the bay - it's calm & quiet, with a few fishermen and a couple of swimmers.  There are some restaurants with decks built out over the water.  It's just like Thailand but without the hordes of tourists!  Of course, this is the off season, but we've heard that the lack of beach (and possibly the lack of waves as well) has discouraged tourism overall.  Funny, neither of these things bothers us!

We turn back towards town and start the 2km walk back to the highway.  We are keen to avoid a large fine at the border, and we reckon that the best way of doing this is to be carrying very little cash.  They can't take what we don't have...right?  Consequently we have just 30 lempira to spare for breakfast, so we share a baleada (L15) at a nice little cafe, in the company of a government employee and his girlfriend.  They try gamely to chat with us in Spanglish  =)

On our way to the bus stop we try to find some drinking yogurt at various different pulperias, but no joy.  This will turn out to be a good thing, since our bus journey won't go quite as we planned...

We don't have to wait too long for the bus to Corinto, and to our delight it's less than half full.  We head to the back and throw our backpacks behind the seat.  The conductor comes to collect our fare but doesn't want us to go all the way to Corinto with him...unfortunately, we can't work out quite what he DOES want us to do, but it definitely involves changing buses.  He's so earnest, and clearly intent on helping us, so we agree with his mysterious plan.  We check our remaining cash against his predicted fare for the 2nd bus, and it seems like we'll have L15 to spare...

We roll along for an hour or so, passing a dozen or more playa (beach) communities on our right, and rolling hills & farms on our left.  We make a rather weird backtrack through a riverside town - not an express bus, then.  We are even stopped by the navy (?!?), and Chris - along with all the other males - is searched.  Too bad there's no chance to get a photo of all the boys lined up like criminals against the side of the bus.  Our passports are inspected, and the other (local) passengers produce various bits of identification, except 3 teenage-looking girls who seem to be without ID.  They have an extended chat with the crowd of armed officers, but this might just be an excuse for some sly flirting - pretty much every officer looks to be under 25, and the girls are cute!  After a few minutes we are all allowed to re-board the bus and continue our journey.

Just after we pass through a small village called Tegucigulpita (hee hee), the conductor indicates that we should disembark.  This is kind of a relief because the bus is now empty except for us and one other passenger, so it's feeling a bit weird!  As we are getting off, the conductor flags a taxi (unbidden, of course).   Not surprisingly his L100 fare to the border is too steep for us, so we send him back on his way.  Next, the driver of one of the bevy of moto-taxis comes over and asks us if we are travelling to the frontera, and how much the bus costs for this trip.  We quote our previous conductor at about L50 for 2 people, which is clearly unappealing to the moto-taxi guy.  He bids us a good journey & indicates that we should sit in the shade, since it'll be 40 minutes until the next bus - doh!  The throng of moto-taxis drives off in various directions (rather reinforcing his point - clearly no buses are expected for a while) and leave us to curse and pull out the trusty deck of cards.

But Chris has barely shuffled when a bus appears on the horizon - thankfully emblazoned with the word Frontera!  We grab our gear and clamber aboard.  The backpacks end up at the very front of the bus near the door - not ideal for a border crossing, where we are often rushed by "helpful people" who'd like to guarantee our business by grabbing our stuff! - but there is an empty seat nearby so we just keep a watchful eye.  After all, we have no money to be parted with so it won't take much talking to reclaim our bags if necessary.

We needn't have worried.  Within 30 minutes we reach the border, and although a small shouty crowd appears around the bus, it transpires that they are all money-changers (you can tell because they're all yelling "cambio" (change) ).  With no money to change, we grab our bags and start the short walk to the border.  On the way, we spend our last L19 on a Gatorade (which is worth L21 - thanks to the nice gent in the shop who took pity on poor travellers).  We come over a tiny hill and spot the border station - which looks exactly like a bus station, weirdly - just ahead.  Hearts in throats, we head towards it.

It's not busy at all - just 4 people in a single line - but we're not sure if this is a help or a hindrance in our situation.  Within a couple of minutes of our arrival, a very American-sounding immigration officer asks us to come to her newly-opened window to be processed.  But another fellow jumps in ahead of us, so we end up with the Spanish-only officer.  He looks through our passports but they fail to yield the narrow white form that one usually completes when entering Honduras.  Of course, we remembered this form from our border crossing between Nicaragua & Honduras...but failed to work out that it's absence would make it impossible for immigration to "not notice" our missing entry stamps from the El Salvador crossing.  After some rapid conversation with the female officer (who directs a few questions at us), it appears that we do indeed have a problem.  It's left to the woman to explain the situation to us.

Basically, we are now considered to be illegal immigrants and this means we need to pay a fine of over L3000 each (that's more than US$ 300 for the pair of us).  One of the American teachers we met at D&D had warned us that this happened to him once, but it's still a shock to be asked for such a huge sum of money over what seems like such a small thing!    Our faces must say it all...but just in case, we tell them that we simply don't have that kind of money.  We're also told that we can return to our point of entry to sort it out - but that's many miles away now, and of course they have no record of us so we can't imagine that it would be successful.

They confer, and the woman asks us if we intend to return to Honduras.  Upon hearing that we don't, she says that there may be another option which will cost only US$ 20 each, and requires a phone call to get approval from a higher authority.  Chris pulls out his wallet and shows them our US$ 23.  They don't look happy, and the woman heads back to her own window to process a few more people who've arrived while we've been talking.  The man fusses around for a while with our passports and some paperwork that looks totally unrelated to us, then waves us over to one side with a "wait, please".

We stand in the middle of the immigration building - in the bit that looks like a bus concourse - and worry about what will happen next.  We hope that the fellow is calling the right people to give us the $20 "special deal" - although we don't know how we'll actually pay for this, as our "emergency fund" (intended to get us to Guatemalan immigration, which is some distance away) is only another $10.  But it's also possible that he's calling the police and the next step will be arrest & prison.  The longer we wait, the more we think it will be the latter, and we really begin to understand how intimidation works.  If they offered us the chance to pay the L6000 in fines in order to avoid jail right now, we'd probably jump on the opportunity!  But instead, the female officer appears - seemingly on her way to have a break - and says that her colleague has been looking for us.  She leads us to a side door of the "office" portion of the building and ushers us inside.  She says we can "have a discussion" when she gets back...this sounds ominous, so in spite of the air conditioning we are still sweating profusely.

There are now 2 male officers at work in the building and we watch them fire questions at incoming & outgoing people.  Every once in a while, they look at us and/or our passports (which are sitting on their desk) and mutter something to each other.  They are unfailingly polite to us, however, and keep telling us to "wait please".  We've now been waiting for an hour or so and we still don't know what the final solution might be.

Suddenly, the officer we've been dealing with says "OK".  He grabs our passports and returns them, opens the door, and waves us towards the border, stating "Guatemala is there".  This seems too good to be true and we joke nervously about running across border just in case.  But it's all OK suddenly, although we'll never know what brought about his change of heart!  Was it our lousy Spanish that didn't allow him to tell us off eloquently; did he feel sorry for us because we had only $23 to our names; could he not be bothered with all the procedures (and undoubtedly paperwork) that come with treating people as criminals; or is the whole thing a set-up to scare people into producing all the money they've hidden in their socks & bras in order to pay the large fine?

So, now we are in Guatemala but still worried that their immigration will object to our missing Honduran stamps - we recall the officer at Sixaola who made us go back to Panama to change our date stamp - and to compound this, the Guatemalan immigration office is several km away.  We approach the waiting minivan whose conductor wants to know if we are going to Puerto Barrios, but we just keep reiterating that we want to go to Guatemalan immigration.  He's undoubtedly wondering why we are so obsessed with this!

He manages to stuff our bags under the back seat of the minibus, and installs us in the front seat next to the driver with the reasoning that it will make things faster at immigration.  We're the first on board so we have a while to let our heart rates slow down, and Chris takes the chance to exchange $20 for some Guatemalan quetzales via the ubiquitous money-changer so that we can pay our bus fare.  We're in luck that the next passenger is a Honduran-born, Guatemalan-dwelling, ex-New Yorker, so we find plenty to chat about while we're waiting for the van to fill up.

Before long we are underway, and we soon understand the reasoning for our front seat position.  We feel like royals as we luxuriate in our elbow room while more & more passengers pile into the van behind us.  It seems that there is no maximum capacity for these vans!

In about 15-20 minutes we arrive at Guatemalan immigration, which actually appears to be in the middle of nowhere.  We are escorted into the office by our conductor (who takes this opportunity to collect our fares - confusing!) and the immigration officer quickly stamps both passports with a 90-day allowance.  No questions, no stamp checks - phew!  We're herded back to the van and everyone piles on board again (they took advantage of the time to stretch their legs).  And....relax.

We're not sure if we'll go to Puerto Barrios, from where we can catch a boat to Livingstone and then another boat down the allegedly beautiful Rio Dulce; or whether to take the bus directly to Rio Dulce.  Amazingly it's only 12:30 so we decide that we have time for the longer route (and also we're sure to find an ATM in Puerto Barrios so that we can stop being so cash-poor).  It's probably another 30 minutes journey from the immigration office, but we're so relaxed now that Lisa dozes through most of it....

In Puerto Barrios there is a flock of taxi drivers, fixers, and other "helpful people".  We run away from them into an air-conditioned, frosted glass, lockable ATM room attached to the Banco Internacionales.  With a crisp Q1000 in hand, we head off to find the port so we can hire a lancha (water taxi) to Livingstone.  Plenty of people give us "directions" (which all seem to involve getting a taxi or other form of paid transport) so we eventually ask for some unbiased info from the guard at the Chiquita shipping facility.  Not only do we find the Livingstone boats, but also those heading for Belize....tempting!

Unfortunately our kindly captain-to-be, a distinctly Caribbean fellow with only 2 teeth, informs us that there are no afternoon boats from Livingstone to Rio Dulce town.  This seems weird as we've read that there are regular boats upriver from Puerto Barrios, so where on earth do they go when they get to Livingstone?  In this case, we decide that we should get the bus, because we don't want to waste a night in Livingstone & thereby reduce our time in Rio Dulce or points further.  So we walk back down towards the market/bus station, but take the time to stop for lunch at a tiny roadside place, where one of the options is just an unspecified "almuerzos" (lunch).  Turns out to be a tasty chicken & rice dish with some mysterious (but good) sauce.

We stop into the posh-looking Liteguat bus station to use their bathrooms  ;-)  While waiting for Chris, Lisa is amused (or scared?) by the giant ad for bus traveller's insurance.  For just Q3 you receive:

  • Life insurance, in case of death caused by accident or aggression
  • Medical coverage, in case of injury caused by accident or aggression
  • Personal belongings cover in case of theft
This doesn't seem like a reassuring advertisement for the bus service....

Bladders emptied, we emerge from the bus station to search for the local (economy) bus to Rio Dulce.  Of course, a fixer materialises beside us and insists that he'll arrange a minibus trip for us - as a taxi driver, he apparently knows all the minibus drivers and will ensure we get the right price.  Uh-huh....It takes us some time to escape from him but as we wander around the side streets, we realise that he was indicating the right area to find a minibus, so we have to return to his helpful clutches and he quickly sets us up with an empty vehicle.  We settle in to wait for more passengers.

The bus doesn't take too long to fill up and we're soon packed in like sardines. We hit the road to Morales.  As we leave Puerto Barrios, Lisa spots a shop called "Bombaza" which literally appears to have had an explosion of clothing boxes all across the frontage - people are wading through piles of clothes to find desirable bargains.  Makes Primark look like a luxury department store!

When we arrive in Morales (which looks like it's just an interchange on the highway, we must change to a different bus to reach Rio Dulce.  It's been a long day already and the 30-minute wait drags on forever.  But eventually a minibus arrives and we manage to complete our journey.

We weren't sure if we'd make it to Rio Dulce so we haven't arranged any accommodation - with sunset imminent, this is our top priority.  There is a new-looking hotel next to the bus stop where we check out a clean but boring room for Q120 (US$ 15).  It's tempting to just take it so we can fully relax after today's dramas, but we can't stop thinking about an intriguing place mentioned in our Rough Guide - Casa Perico, located in a small cove and only accessible by riverboat.  We stop in at the Sun Dog Cafe on the waterfront to ask them about arranging transport - which turns out to be free on arrival & departure - and while we're waiting, we're joined by a French traveller who is also bound for Perico.

Our river taxi arrives in due course and we whizz up the river to the lodge.  It's a winner at first glance, with a lovely large deck surrounding a bar/restaurant area, and lots of wooden walkways to the various rooms & dorms.  We are taken on a tour with our French companion, and we decide to treat ourselves to a double room in the roof space above the bar (about Q120, if we remember correctly!).  Our new friend opts for a hammock under the roof which is the cheapest option.  We'll be very glad of these choices when the heavens open while we are having dinner - except for a quick walkway dash to the communal bathroom, we can stay under cover!  And, Lisa is very excited to spot a tiny turtle swimming in the shallow water near the bathroom =)

FINALLY, we can relax with a local beverage - Guatemalan stout (!) for Lisa, and a chocolate shake for Chris (who is alcohol-free while some medication kills off evil stomach bacteria  ;-)  ).  This is certainly not a day we'd want to live over again!




Monday, October 8, 2012

On the buses...El Salvador


There are several factors to consider when trying to determine how long your bus ride will take in El Salvador. But first and foremost, you need to know that your mother would NOT approve of you taking these buses at all – they seemingly undergo no maintenance or inspections; there is a distinct lack of safety equipment; they are often dangerously overcrowded (3 or 4 people jammed into a 2-child seat, and more people crammed into the aisles); and they go haring around corners with the doors wide open. Sometimes they don't even come to a full stop as you are getting off or on.

But if you're willing to overlook these factors and travel like a Salvadorian, here are a few tips to help you determine your arrival time at destination:
  1. Speed. Most Salvadorian bus drivers have lead feet. Even around corners, through villages, and in the pouring rain. If you happen to have one of the few sedate drivers, you'll find yourself twitching with impatience that the journey is taking so much longer than normal.
  2. Frequency of stops. There is not really any such thing as an express service, as far as we can tell – if there's an inch of space available, and someone is at the stop, then the driver will screech to a halt. BUT, unlike in most central American countries, there are actually designated bus stops (NOT necessarily where the “parada de autobus” sign is – go to where the crowd of people are waiting!) so the number of possible stops is limited. Occasionally the driver goes so quickly that he never stops to let people board, and you're lucky if you manage to get him to stop to let you off (great news if you're going to the end of the route...you're going to get there SO fast!).
  3. Duration of stops. On our first bus ride in El Salvador, we were pleased that the bus departed almost immediately after we boarded – it wasn't even full yet, which is the trigger for departure time that we've come to know & love. But after travelling for about 5 minutes, we stopped at a parada....and were there for almost 30 minutes. A further 30 minutes down the road and we stopped again...this time for 20 minutes. A journey that should have taken 2 hours ended up taking about 3...but at least we had lots of time to enjoy the antics of the bus vendors*.
  4. Frequency of service. Popular routes such as the 301 between San Miguel & San Salvador will leave when the bus is full, or at worst every 15 minutes. Whereas the direct service from San Salvador to Alegria travels exactly twice a day. And remember that pretty much every service stops at dusk, so final departures (depending on distance) will be in mid- to late afternoon.

*Bus vendors will climb aboard at many of the bus stops, and attempt to sell you everything from toothbrushes to tacos. We have been grateful for these on long trips since there are no “passenger rest stops” in El Salvador, so it gives us a chance to buy a cold drink without disembarking and running the risk of being left behind. We've even been known to buy the occasional food item...although this could explain the “Salvadorian belly syndrome” we're currently experiencing....
Our nomination for “most talented” bus vendor is a fellow who was selling individually-wrapped hard candies in 3 flavours. He had a great patter and boy, could he roll those R's. We really believed that our bocas (mouths) would feel refreshed after having one of his chocolate-mint sweeties!
But the winner for “most unique product” AND sales pitch has to be “back-scratcher man”. He was certainly committed to his cause. He managed to talk about that (rather tacky) plastic back-scratcher for no less than 5 minutes straight – and then, he went down the entire bus scratching backs as a demo! Not sure if he got any sales but he did inspire a lot of giggles.

Other things to look forward to on your Salvadorian bus journey are:
  • seat hardness: from school-bus leather benches to upholstered individual seats – but you'd be amazed at which of these is often the more comfortable.
  • music: not just the driver's choice but also your fellow passengers – think our record is 4 different tunes playing simultaneously and loudly! Chris de Burgh & Brian Adams are bus driver favourites.
  • conductor noise: is he shouty? Does he whistle shrilly at every opportunity? FYI - “visa” means “wait” (an instruction for the driver, when passengers are getting on & off) and “aller” means “GO”. Watch the conductor take a running leap & swing himself on board via the back door.
  • climate: does the bus have air con? If so, is it actually on? 'cause if it's not, that bus is one hot & stuffy box with unopenable windows...
  • luggage: or better described as baskets, bundles of wood, and the occasional live chicken. If you're carrying a large backpack or similar, be prepared to spend the journey hugging it in your lap. If you're standing and trying to carry something, it's likely that a kindly seated passenger will hold onto your stuff so you can hold on to the ceiling rail with both hands! Feel free to do the same for others, it's a good way to make new Salvadorian friends.
Finally, you'll be pleased to learn that Salvadorian buses have route numbers. This is a good inspiration to bone up on your Spanish numbers, so that helpful locals can tell you which bus to catch to your destination. Many places of interest will require a couple of changes (and even where there's a direct bus, a “bus combo” might be a lot quicker – see point 4 above!) and there's no such thing as a route map or timetable, so you're going to need some advice! The numbering system also helps you to recognise your bus quickly enough to (possibly) flag it down before it flies past your stop.

So, now you're all set. Enjoy your journey, especially the sight of the beautiful countryside whipping by. Maybe manana (tomorrow) you can try one of those “people trucks” and REALLY travel like a Salvadorian...