Finally back on the road. I've reached Esteli Nicoragua and hopefully in the next few days will update the blog.
The journey has been tough going with plenty of mountains combined with trucks, Not a good combination ! !
Random ramblings from memory.
The crossing from Costa Rica to Nicoragua needed fumigation or to be more clear needed a reciept for fumigation. What a joy to find that after getting everything photocopied the documents were scanned into the system.
A couple of days spent in Granada Nicoragua at a Palestinian owned hotel. Very hospitable but the power of the dollar and the architecture means that there are a lot of tourists and backpackers which means that it's probably more enjoyable being a backpacker than paying over the odds enjoying the efforts at cuisine in the pavement cafés.
Stopped in Esteli and visited a cigar factory. A lot of women sitting at tables rolling cigars. Whilst we tourists were taking photographs and paying a premium for organic cigars.
Very nice hotel in Esteli but not cheap. I guess if you can afford cigars. ........
Next stop Ocotal close to the Honduran border. Nice (cheap) hotel . The strange thing is that we (I ?) Tend to think that standards in Central America are going to be lower than North American /European standards. Thanks to my new status as a travelling old fart I am discovering that I have wasted a fortune in days gone by. These family run hotels give much more than the chains.
It's with a certain trepidation that I head to the Honduran border. I have a vision of marauding tatooed gangs lining the road waiting to take me hostage.
I was to be disappointed. Met a group of Mexican bikers returning home after a trip to a meet in Costa Rica.
No hassle entry into Honduras, eyes peeled for pirates and on my way to a resort just outside Valle de Angeles. I'm glad it wasn't raining as the slope of the entrance was puckering in the dry. Beautiful resort set in the rolling hills just outside town. Ideal for a couple of nights to get the blog done and some minor running repairs.
The owner seemed surprised that I complained that the very things I had chosen the hotel for didn't exist. No Wi-Fi, no restaurant, No water in the pool.
At least it was peaceful. Because of the fear of getting back up the driveway I arranged a moto taxi to take me to town. Now the driver didn't actually say " hey fatty get out " but he did ask me to get off until he got to the top of the drive. Luckily he was carrying oxygen to revive me when I staggered back in and he delivered me to a restaurant where I enjoyed (I use the word enjoyed in its full meaning ) a meal típico. It's obvious that Hondurans know how to live. Where in the civilised west would you find a restaurateur offering to collect you in the evening so you can return for dinner?
Next leg meant passing Tegucigalpa and I double checked the GPS to avoid gangland. I was sure there would be snipers along the periférico and I just prayed I didn't take a wrong turn.
Arrived safely at my hotel in the centre of Comayagua. Once again fabulous and 25 dollars. Had a walk to the centre park,very nice. Had a nice meal in a restaurant owned by a guy who spoke perfect English thanks to his life as an illegal in the US. He only got caught when he mismatched his fingerprints and driving licence. The rest of his family haven't been caught yet so they are still there.
The roads in Honduras are not really awful they are just bad with patches with bad enough potholes to need a ladder.Needless to say progress suffered.
Next stop Copan Ruinas near the border and I roll up outside Casa Elena B&B wondering what I had booked. No sooner did I stop outside than I was greeted like a long lost family member and shown where I could park.
Checking in I was given a drink and then shown to a room set in nice gardens. I have to say that this was possibly the best place I have stayed. Lunch and dinner for 8 dollars for both snd coffee brought to my room mid afternoon because I had said that I enjoyed the coffee at breakfast .
Now it brings you down to earth with a bump when,as a ruffty tuffty biker, going where people fear to tread, that you start chatting to a group of pensioners from Avingon at the Mayan Ruins.
