December 5th

El Amatillo. We’ve made it through the most notorious border crossing in Central America unscathed. In fact, not only did we make it across; it was the quickest border crossing yet. Without the help of the “guides” we were told would be necessary. That’s not to say it was smooth sailing, but it wasn’t as horrible as we thought. Here’s what happened.

We left our Auto Hotel at 6am, not certain yet if we were spending another night in El Salvador. It all depended on time. About 1 hour into the drive I felt confident that we would be in Honduras or maybe even Nicaragua by nightfall. The roads were really well maintained and I could keep a comfortable speed of about 80km’s the whole way. That coupled with the lack of tumulos (speedbumps) made for a quite enjoyable ride through El Salvador. I wished we had more time and money, there was a few places we definitely could have stopped, most of which were lined with beautiful beaches. It was about 11:30am when we began the approach to the infamous crossing. Tension was high, I was prepared though and had to nearly run down many of the helpers selling there wares as we neared the crossing. Originally we had decided to find one and get help, though that plan changed as we went along. We could do it ourselves.

First stop, El Salvadorian side to cancel our temporary vehicle permit. I thought this a bit silly considering we were only in the country for 24 hours, but there are many things I find silly about these border crossings. So we cancelled our permits, paid the $12 exit tax ($3 for each passport) and headed further into the maze of trucks, paperwork and hombres nearly jumping in our car wanting to help. Next stop a bridge, of course a bridge there is always a bridge. At this bridge we were stopped by a very unofficial looking man with a pistol. Though he was armed I still didn’t think it was the real deal and wasn’t ready to give up my passport. He didn’t really like this and got his back up with me. I told him in Spanish that I would accompany him and he led me into the office and then left. I should mention that the van was parked very badly, blocking half of the bridge and giant Semi’s behind us honking their horns. I brought Eir with me into the first office and for the rest of my border experience. It’s easier to negotiate with a baby in your arms.

Here he needed all the vehicle papers, and he began to very slowly fill out the Honduras ones. All the while Shona is still in the van blocking traffic. This took about 20 minutes and I’ve learned from this process that you can’t beat a smile in any business. Especially when you show interest in other peoples lives. I started some small talk with him in Espanol and when he was finished with the papers asked where the next step was. He thought it over for a moment and then decided to take me there.

2nd Stop. Random office that I definitely would not have found without his help. Here we waited for about 10 minutes, no idea what for, but he handed the original forms to me with some sort of receipt and asked for $11. Then we walked to another building where he left me, saying that he had to go back to work. I thanked him, though in secret I believed that these papers were a scam. I waited for 2 seconds in line before someone behind me told me I was in the wrong place. They told me in spanish that I needed to go to the bank first to pay for the permit. I refuted this fact for a while, but then finally gave in when others joined into the conversation. I feel bad for not believing people, but you’ve got to careful. I went to the bank across the street and was told I would need photocopies of a document and $33 to proceed. I went and got photocopies and went back to the bank. No, I needed the currency to be in Honduras currency. Back outside to find a money exchanger. Found one, got money changed and went back into the bank. Okay, now I needed to go back to the other side and give all these documents to Migracion.

First window. I hand him all the papers and he takes them away without saying anything. I wait for a while and then finally get told that I need to proceed to the window at the end. I wait there for a little while and then a woman tells me I need my original drivers license and registration (I gave her copies). I go back to the van, drop off my passport and get originals. Then I’m told that I need more photocopies of certain documents. I went to the photocopy place, got the copies and back to the window. She needs to see my original passport again. Back to the van, get the passport bring it to her. More copies. These ones of the stamp in the passport. Then she comes and checks over the van, we go back to the office and she gives me our papers. Yes, we’re done. No, I need to make copies of the papers to give to the guards at the other end of the border. Finally, the last step. All of which could be taken care of very easily if they would just put a photocopier in the immigration office. Jeez.

We made it out onto the highway and I was very happy. People were getting hungry and we needed to take a break. We weren’t going to make it to Nicaragua tonight, so we looked in one of our books “99 Days to Panama” to find out where they stayed. A little family farm just under an hour to the border. Perfect. That was the plan. Only the plan was foiled when the van started acting up. Doing the same thing it did in San Marcos a month earlier. Most likely the timing, with all the big changes in altitudes we were experiencing. No sweat, we’ll make it to the farm and I’ll do my best to adjust the timing there. Sweat. The van stalls and won’t start, just on the outskirts of town. Immediately there is a crowd of people around us poking curious heads in the windows asking if we need help. I go to the back and feel the engine. It’s really hot. This van needs a break. While I’m chatting to everyone around the van Shona and the girls have been invited into the front gate of the house we’re parked in front of. There is other kids there and Freja is already riding in one of thier toy cars. I go over and chat for a little while and within 20 minutes we’re parked in their yard, eating a gigantic meal of Frijoles, Camarones, Tortillas and rice. Freja’s playing, Eir is playing and Dora is getting a well needed rest from the heat. And now, I write from the yard where we have Dora set up. Belly full after a good conversation with the Grandmother of the house and the promise of coffee tomorrow for our journey.

Not only that but her husbands brother works at the border we’re going to in Nicaragua. I talked to him on the phone and he said he’d give us a hand tomorrow in our crossing. I personally think it was Dora’s plan all along. Buenos Noche Amigos.