Mexico

Time for another proper update, We’ve managed to squeeze in a lot of stuff over the last few weeks, I’ll try and remember most of it.

We ended up leaving Hotel Chancletas in N Nicaragua a day early, the surf was amazing every day, but unfortunately there’s nothing else to do there at all.

So we’d get up early, Charlie would take photo’s and I’d surf in the morning, then we’d swing in the hammocks and read a book, walk up the beach and collect shells, walk the other way along the beach, eat our budget improvised lunch, then read a bit more, browse the ‘net, and go to sleep.

A few days of this was enough and we headed back to Leon, this time staying in a cheaper hostel, the private room we had looked OK, not great, someone had written on the wall: “This place is a shit hole :o)”

Many a true word has been scrawled on a hostel wall in biro, and this was no exception. The shower was ok, when it worked, as was the toilet, although a toilet seat was deemed unnecessary by the management, unfortunately, it only worked about half the time.

We battled through the hostile living conditions and celebrated surviving uninfected each day by going to the cinema, as luck would have it the cinema had just introduced three new titles, sparing me the anguish of sitting through Zac Efrons latest masterpiece: “17 Again”.

Piracy is part of everyday life in Central America, every street in Leon has at least one DVD salesman, who offers you the latest blockbusters, coming next month to the cinema next door, for 50 cents.  It almost makes the US $2.50 you pay for a seat in the cinema seem expensive, but escaping our hovel for an evening was worth any price.

We saw “Mall Cop” and “Sex Drive”, the other option was re-watching wolverine which we’d seen the previous week, this would have been the sensible option.  Both “Comedies” of the worst kind, about two laughs a-piece, I assume “Sex Drive” was even less funny when translated into Spanish because the couple behind us held several phone conversations during the film.

So after a couple of days in a hostel from hell we packed our stuff and waited for our transport to San Salvador, arranged through the hostel and costing a reasonable $25 each.

There seemed to be a bit of confusion about getting to the bus, a taxi was ordered but clearly didn’t have enough space for Charlie and I as well as the other Canadian couple who were making the same journey.

We piled into the rickety old taxi first and were driven to some-ones house and told to wait in their front-room, we watched the Spanish news channel reporting more swine flu deaths and looked at the homeowners family portraits next to the TV.

The only clue that we were at some sort of bus-stop was the lady sitting behind a desk at one side of the room, so we wavedour tickets at her and she helpfully told us something in Spanish, then upon seeing our looks of incomprehension mis-translated it as: “these no bus tickets”

“these yes bus tickets, we pay $25, we go El Salvador”

“No, no use ticket for bus”

“should we pay you more? I have a few Nicaraguan Cordobas, how much?”

smiles: “you pay already, you get on bus, you no use tickets”

Right, we don’t need the tickets, just being in your front room is proof enough that we have paid for bus tickets.

So onto the bus, an old battered thing, probably used to be silver in 1970 when they built it. We panic slightly as our bags are stowed roughly along with the rocking chairs, cooler boxes and bundles of rags which the other local passengers feel the need to cart across two borders.

All finally seeme to be going smoothly when we hear a loud bang and start to wobble a bit, the four casually dressed “officials” who have been taking our passports, packing our bags and driving in rotation, all grin at each other and seem to be deciding whether to pull over or just carry on.

We eventually crawl to a stop on the dust and gravel hard shoulder while six men get out to survey the damage, slowly some scrap metal with a few strips of perished rubber hanging off it is wheeled past and a nearly new replacement tire is put on.

A few hours later we stop for lunch, for about an hour, then we cross the border, at which point it is noted that the new tire is leaking air, then we stop at Honduras’ slowest tire shop for a few hours while they select a replacement.

Finally we approach the El Salvador border, the strictest one yet, we all pile out and take out all our belongings, where a few heavily armed guards (shotguns, automatic rifles, pistols, batons, as if they expect an invading army to be coming in via coach) who finger through your stuff for a few minutes to stave off the boredom.

It was now dark and we were a long way from our final destination due to the various delays, we were tired and hungry and Charlie was getting a little emotional when the guard started handling her underwear, but we got through it and managed to get some much needed food on the other side of the border.

El Salvador is surprisingly developed, the roads are good, there are big stores everywhere, lots of investment in the infrastructure in the main cities. We were dumped at a petrol station in San Salvador at 11pm, never have I had to work so hard to get a taxi driver to take me somewhere, negotiating a price was like getting blood out of a stone, eventually one of them drew the short straw and took us out to La Libertad.

Thankfully Darren at the El Roble hostel came out to meet us at the gate after we rang the bell at midnight, the other guests were all fast asleep but we were eager to get inside the walls and away from the pack of wild dogs which had chased the taxi down the dirt roads on the way.

We settlled in and got a good nights sleep, we awoke next day and immediately set off on a tour to a nearby village which was holding their annual fete, it was a lovely experience and we took lots of pictures.

The next week went by fairly quickly as we relaxed during the heat of the day and went to the beach in the evening.

I surfed Punta Roca, the best wave in Central America apparently, it was crowded with Americans, the water was filthy and I caught about 5 waves, but you can see what they mean, it’s a world class right hand point, but I didn’t surf it again.

We eventually made our way to Antigua in Gautemala, using a fabulous service called “Bon Voyage” which Darren organised, which gave us a door to door transfer with no hassle at all.

We stayed in Antigua for a few days, exploring the volcanoe as Charlie has written about, and the city itself which is a tourist oasis with lots of nice bars and restuarants and plenty to see.

The trip to Mexico was similarly uneventfull, a shuttle to Guatemala City followed by the Tica Bus to Tapachula in Mexico, then the OCC coach to Puerto Escondido.

I’m currently poolside having surfed Playa Zicatela this morning, it was pretty big, I was slightly out of my comfort zone, but caught some decent waves and saw aome amazing ones, looking forward to spending some more time here and taking some more photos before moving on to California.