Jan. 21 – San Miguel, El Salvador to Choluteca, Honduras

Had the complimentary continental breakfast in the hotel, and then went out into the parking lot to do the oil change and chain maintenance on the bikes.  Had to work under the glaring, scowling scrutiny of the security guard, who was definitely offended by our using his parking lot for motorcycle maintenance!  Glad he didn’t shoot us!

Then off to the border.  What we found there was a nightmare of unbelievable proportions.  I am not going to attempt to describe it;  I will leave that to Levi, who suffered through the worst of it while I stood guard by the bikes, for 3-1/2 hours of bullshit.  Levi summed it up best when he said ‘ the Hondurans have no national pride’.  We agree that Honduras does not deserve to have tourists, and I certainly will never be one, again.

As a private aside to Isaiah;  do you remember the line of trucks waiting to cross the Serbian border when we got there?  Well, that was what the approach to the Honduran border was like.  Seemingly hundreds of trucks lined up, and not even moving.  Only the bullshit we went through getting into Honduras was even more demeaning and worse than we experienced in Serbia.  Never go to Honduras, is my advice.

While waiting for Levi to finish bribing the border officials, I did meet a fellow motorcycle traveler on his way to Argentina – a fellow from Japan riding an old Honda and traveling alone.  He was getting shafted, too. After wasting those hours at the border, we had to stop for the night in Honduras, even though we had planned not to.  We found a shithole hotel in the only town on our  route.  It was filthy, full of bugs, noisy, overpriced, and had no redeeming features.  Sometimes the water was on, sometimes not.  The people did not smile, were not friendly, and we had very bad attitudes, as well.

We had dinner at a Wendy’s,  drank rum and cokes in our room, and smoked cigars on the roof.