Bike lane through San Lorenzo, Honduras

My apologies to Honduras. I spent most of the day cycling through her, but have no Dateline:Honduras because I did not spend the night there.  An old woman with deformed arms smiles at me saying “Gaupo, guapo”.  She was not asking for a handout, I later learn when I look up guapo in my dictionary, but saying “Gorgeous, handsome”.  I did check out a cheap hotel on the Honduras side of the border; but the power and water was off, and the dank windowless room stank of urine. I did not spend enough money there to get a feel for what the currency is worth. So after changing Limpira into Cordobas upon entering Nicaragua, I do not know if this is a cheap hotel on the Nicaragua side. Using the price of beer as an international standard, the room cost as much as twenty bottles of beer. This room is much nicer than the one across the border.

El Salvador has many more fair-skinned and tall people than Guatemala.  The only way I can tell who the tourists are here is by our more shabby dress.  I felt like a giant in Guatemala and parts of neighboring Chiapas and Oaxaca in Mexico, where the people are also of Mayan ancestry.

The shoulders here are 4m wide and consistent, great for cycling, and the traffic is not terribly heavy.  There are many other cyclists on the road, too;  though they are more likely to be riding on the left shoulder than the right.  One drunken cyclist almost ran into me.  Public urination, by men, seems socially acceptable.  Twice now I’ve seen men pee, one on his truck tire on the busy highway (I would pee on the passenger side tire and only at night) another guy peed in the ditch with his pregnant wife standing nearby.  Hiding behind a tree was not attempted.

I asked a couple of men about the civil war here from 1980-1992, and they both got choked up recalling it.  “There was machine gun fire right here on this street.”  75,000 people died as a result of the conflict.

Maggots squirm in and out of cheese that comes with my eggs for breakfast, leaving tiny tunnels delicately laced throughout. I wonder if that is their purpose, like a Sardinian delicacy my brother told me about.  Casu Marzu or “cheese that moves” is a type of  cheese with maggots moving in it. I finished eating the eggs, but not the cheese.

I started late again today due to noisy neighbors who kept me up past midnight. Guests at a $20 a night hotel are no more considerate than those at a $3 a night hospedaje, and the walls just as thin. At 11:30 I decide to wait until midnight to say something. Come midnight they are still hooting and hollering, so I get my pants and clang! the metal bar my pants were hanging from rattles loudly on the floor. That temporarily quiets the revelers. As they start to increase in volume again, I wait with my hand on the door to catch them in the act of an outburst of laughter and rehearse my lines. I’ll walk in, looking bedraggled, to fill my glass at the water cooler. With all eyes on me I’ll say “Silencio! por favor. Es medianoche y no hay dormir.” Then in the awkward silence that follows I’ll depart with “Buenas noches” and walk slowly back to my room. But as I wait with my hand on the door, I hear the manager calmly telling them something similar. After the miscreants are sent to their rooms, I go in to the lounge area to fill my glass at the water cooler.

My thanks to Alfredo Flor Diaz of Santa Rosa de Lima for identifying the beautiful long-tailed bird that is common here.  The Torogoz is the National Bird of El Salvador; and also of Nicaragua where it is called the Guardabarranco.  The Colbert Report named it the fifth most poetic bird.

I watched dozens of surfers, including Bob the American, ride the waves rolling in from the winter storms in New Zealand;  while eating breakfast at El Delfin and visiting with Marta, the owner.  She is suitably impressed with my journey; “increible!” she keeps repeating.  Bob was unimpressed. ” We’ve had a bunch of bikers come through here.  There was even a woman from New York on a recumbent.  One of those real low ones. I’d never do that.  I used to bike a lot, but got run off the road too many times, so I gave it up…”

I shopped, bought some cash, (they use US dollars here as their currency), and hit the road after nine when it’s already hot.  “I should take a days rest here if I can’t cycle 100 kms today” I think.  But after an air conditioned break and plenty of fluids, the clouds roll in and it seems cooler.  I pick up my pace and arrive here at 4 pm.  The terrain is generally flat, but I do see some volcanoes off to the north.  I see a long-tailed bird that may be a flycatcher, but different than the scissor-tailed flycatcher in Texas.   Water is off in the whole town until 9 pm.  If I’d known that before checking in I might have gone on a few kilometers  more to the next town.  But I’m shown a separate water source on the roof, shower, and am happy.

Great cycling with a wide shoulder and light traffic.

After following the Pacific coast for over 1000 kilometers, I saw it for the first time today.  What a great way to meet the Pacific Ocean.  The last fifty kilometers reminds me of the road along the Oregon coast.  It winds up and down along a mountainous shoreline.  You climb up as high as 130m, then drop down into a valley a dozen times; and there are five tunnels, the longest being 557m.  I’m staying in a beach resort town only 30 km from the capital, San Salvador.  Hillary Clinton was just in El Salvador.  I added an extra 15k going back and forth looking for a hotel.  An American named Bob owns a surf resort here, but at $57 is too expensive for me.  He recommended a cheaper place next to his restaurant in town.  I’m eating dinner there now and have had three beers.

Great views along this mountainous coast

My view from a rest stop

Eating dinner and updating this website at Punta Roca Restaurant

View from the last hills in SE Guatemala

I got an early start because I didn’t sleep well.  Now that I’m so healthy, caffeine consumed in the afternoon will keep me up at night.  I didn’t order a Coke with my pizza last night; they just brought me one because it comes with the meal.  I drank it because I was thirsty.  Then a man was conversing loudly in the courtyard outside my room until after midnight.  I thought of yelling Silencio!, but did not.  Nice early morning views of several volcanoes off to the north.  Thunderstorms rolled through in the afternoon to cool me off.  I’d sit one out for a few minutes, then 2k down the road the pavement is dry.  Crossing the boarder into El Salvador was the easiest yet; they didn’t even stamp my passport.  But a nurse did take my temperature because I’d been to Mexico.  The nurses were wearing facemasks.  I’m staying at an Auto Hotel.  The room has an attached garage.  At first I thought she said it costs $40;  but it’s just $14, and two cold beers come with the room.

Guatemalan "chicken bus" on the road to Cerro Oro

Caravans of wrecked American cars passed me by all the way through Mexico.  I now know they were heading for Guatemala.  I figure they are totalled vehicles bought at auction;  one wreck towing another with “IN TOW” duck taped to the rear window of the towed vehicle.  As late-model American cars they should fetch a good price in Guatemala after being repaired with the low labor costs there.  Sometimes an old school bus is towing a wreck.  It will become a brightly painted “chicken bus”, common on all Guatemala roads.  They often choke me with foul black exhaust; and unexpectedly pull over or pull out without signalling.  Drivers here do not practice good defensive driving.  Slow vehicles will drive in the left lane while faster traffic weaves around them.  Many cars pull over to chat with me or take my photo; and sometimes just slow down to keep pace with me, even in while in the left lane.  That funnels faster traffic into the gap between us.  I do not appreciate that.  The roads are gennerally good;  though the four lane that exists near the capital has an intermittent shoulder.  Traffic is heavier there, so without a shoulder it is dangerous, given the poor driving skills.

Dawn on Lake Atitlan

I was late for the church breakfast due to a flat tire, but Padre Gregorio had his cooks make breakfast for me anyway.  He’s from Minnesota and has been here for 45 years.  The San Lucas Mission is supported by the Diocese of New Ulm.  We had a nice visit and then I coasted downhill for an hour.  The first 12k are  much steeper, I squeezed my breaks constantly and then barely used them for the next 20k .  I figure it’s an 8% grade for much of that final 12k up to San Lucas Toliman; and a 15% grade for the 2k climb to the 1900m overlook that I cycled without a load, and didn’t have to get off and push.  There are sections of road on the way to Cerro De Oro that are so steep I did have to push up, even without a load.  I planned to go 30k further today to Esquintla;  but ran into a thunderstorm with torrential rain coming into this town with a name so long I won’t bother repeating it here. A truck had recently overturned, spilling a load of avocados.   I found the city center with lightning striking close by and rivers of rainwater flowing down the streets.  I’m staying at a hospedaje, (lodging house), for $3 a night.  No TV, no fan, and a shared bath.  That’s almost like camping.  I’m spending twice that for a vegetarian pizza now at Telepizza.  I’m updating this blog on the free WiFi here.

Cerro De Oro (see the cell tower?)

Padre Gregorio www.sanlucasmission.org

Johana, Carlitos, & Carlos at Casa La Paz email: carlosmata25@yahoo.com