Central America
Going back
Once again in lovely Central America...
We left Chetumal early and crossed the border into Belize. The entry visa was issued quickly, upon payment of a few dollars. We didn't have to wait for the goodwill and schedules of the Embassies and Consulates, which sometimes take a few days to issue visas. There wasn't much bureaucracy and we were in the country in no time. The car wasn't searched and they only asked what we were carrying. We told them and they told us to go ahead. In 3 hours we were in Belize City, in the central part of the country.
Belize is the second smallest country in Central America. Its economy is based on agriculture, bananas and sugar, and tourism. Its coast is surrounded by reefs and atolls. Most tourists head to the small island of Ambergris Caye, which is located in the northern part of San Pedro. Others opt for Caye Caulker. And few decide to go to the south of the country, which is even less explored, because of the condition of the roads.
At that time, Belize City was small, although it was the largest city in the country. Despite some decaying buildings and houses, the city had beautiful architecture and the wooden buildings give the place a lot of charm. It runs from the north side to the south side of the Haulover River. There is the "Swing Bridge", a narrow and busy bridge that connects the two sides. This former capital of the country was partially destroyed by Hurricane Hattie. Therefore, Belmopán was built with the intention of becoming the capital. Its name is simply the union of "Bel" from Belize and "Mopan", which is the language of the Mayan people. The country is predominantly black and reggae is the most popular musical style there. Anyone who has been to Jamaica will know what Belize is, because of its similarity.
From there we headed towards Hopkins, a small coastal town near Dangriga, the largest city in the southern region. Taking a shortcut along dirt roads, we first arrived at Dangriga. It was practically a shopping street with a few blocks running from one end of the city to the other. Parallel to this street was the sea. A little more on asphalt and dirt roads, we arrived at Hopkins, our destination.
Hopkins Village was very small and it wasn't hard to find the house of another friend, this time an American named Peter, whom we met in San Carlos, Mexico. Peter lived there with Snowball, a very sweet white Golden Retriever. He was another person we kept in touch with throughout our trip to Alaska. In one of these exchanges of messages, Peter invited us to be the first guests at his new home in Hopkins, as soon as he found out we would be passing through Belize. The place was a paradise and he decided to stay for a while. It was a great reunion and we celebrated with lots of Belikin, local beer, pizza and delicious pie, all made right there in the neighborhood. After this welcome, we enjoyed this paradise for a few days.
The population of the southern region of Belize is mostly Garifuna, who are black descendants of shipwrecked Nigerian slaves. This region is not as densely populated as the northern and central parts. The roads are not the best, especially after Hurricane Iris in late 2001. Even so, we ventured through those parts to Placencia, which is a peninsula and a small fishing village. The town is also quite small. There are a few colorful cabins, rented to foreigners who venture there, or are owned by foreigners who have decided to live in Belize.
In Hopkins, the natives built their houses on the sand, leaving the beaches very narrow. Even so, we found our paradise. A beautiful beach that ended in a very green forest. There were no houses and no one to disturb us. It was truly a little piece of paradise, just ours, where we spent hours swimming, sunbathing and making many plans.
Hopkins, with its very friendly people, ended up winning us over. Everyone who passed by us smiled, greeted us or waved. We met Gadd, a local who worked in a bar. He told us about Belize, about reggae, and about the dialect that they use as their official language. English is also spoken, since Belize was once an English possession.
The children loved Peter and every day after school they would stop by to say hello, show him what they had done at school and play with Snowball. Someone would always knock on the door to ask to borrow a screwdriver, gas, etc. In short, they helped each other out, in the true sense of the term “good neighbors”.
We were sad to leave, but since saying goodbye had long been part of this trip, we moved on and went to Belmopán. We imagined it would be a city at least the size of Belize City, since it was the capital. But it was so small that we walked around the city and stopped at a small store that looked more like a market. Then, we decided to continue towards the Guatemalan border.
Still on the Belize side, we were approached by people wanting to help and exchange money. We were not used to these approaches. To get out of the situation, we reversed the car, but there was a pole and he decided not to move out of the way. The damage was the rear door was dented and the window was cracked. Luckily, because of the tinted window, we were able to continue on. We made a small homemade repair and continued on, a little nervous because of an alert for the presence of thieves on the road between the ruins of Tikal and Flores, our next destination. One of the victims told us about the robbery. The thieves were very aggressive and stole everything they had in the car.
Fortunately, we didn't go through the same situation and we arrived at the ruins of Tikal, which are surrounded by the forest, with a beautiful and impressive view. In addition, the animals that inhabit the place - monkeys, toucans and other species - make everything more magical.
After the visit, we continued on to Río Dulce, a tourist town. There are several interesting places in the region, and one of them is the Caribbean town of Livingston. It is a Garifuna village that mixes Latin and Caribbean music. The trip there is breathtaking. We passed by Lake El Golfete, fed by the Dulce River. We passed through forests and the San Felipe de Lara Castle, a Spanish colonial fort at the entrance to Lake Izabal that is connected to the Caribbean Sea via the Dulce River and Lake El Golfete.
While looking for a place to stay, we ended up at a hostel with many other “gringos”. The hotel was suspended on stilts over the river. The rooms were divided by a kind of screen and curtains. Although it was strange, it was pleasant. It had a restaurant and a very busy pier. The frogs were loud, but not annoying. What really bothered us were some guests who decided to drink and talk until late, drowning out the sounds of nature.
From there, we headed back towards Guatemala Antigua. The scenery was already rough, with uphill, downhill and many curves. What caught our attention was the intense policing on the roads, as soon as we entered Guatemala. We were stopped several times and, when we arrived in Guatemala City, all our documents were checked.
Despite the chaos of the city, we were approached by a person who was from the 4x4 Club of Guate, as Guatemala City is called. He was in a Toyota and, very interested in 4x4 cars, asked for information about our Land. We exchanged addresses and e-mails and continued on to Antigua, staying in the same place as when we went up towards Alaska.
The next morning was incredibly beautiful, with unparalleled brightness. The volcanoes surrounding the city seemed even more imposing. The Agua volcano, which is located to the south of the city, was beautiful, without a single cloud around, and the Fuego volcano, after having become active the previous week, was stunning.
Near Antigua is Chichicastenango. On Sundays, the city is a large market where indigenous people color the streets. We woke up ready to go there by bus. We went first to Chimaltenango and then to Chichicastenango. It was almost a 4-hour trip, but it was worth it.
Since we already knew Antigua, we decided not to stay in the city for long and set off again in the direction of El Salvador. First, we called the Embassy of that country. We wanted to confirm whether a visa would still be necessary, since other visas for Central America had already been abolished. We had seen several commercials and statements on television in favor of unifying and opening borders in Central American countries and signing some trade agreements. But, unfortunately, a visa was still necessary. It would take 3 days and would cost us 60 dollars. Given these conditions, we changed our plans and went to Honduras that same day.
We asked a man for directions on how to get out of the city, and he promptly said he was going in the same direction. Halfway there, we were stopped by traffic police to check our documentation.
After talking to the police, we no longer had any doubts about the route. But it wasn't long before we realized that the man was waiting for us on the road. From then on, it seemed like a chase. He kept insisting that we stop, and we decided that we wouldn't stop. We didn't know the man and found his insistent attitude very strange.
Despite the initial friendliness, we didn't want to have any unpleasant surprises. So we sped up and finally lost sight of him.
We arrived at the border and found the usual situation: people offering help with the procedures. The more we said we already knew the procedures, the more they insisted. One of them even got into the car. We stopped the car to give him a good scolding. Finally, they left us alone and we were able to leave Guatemala.
On the Honduran side, immigration was easy, after we left 40 lempiras in the hands of the officer, who only gave us 5 days to stay in the country. From then on, a real pilgrimage from one side to the other began. Since we refused the agents' help, we kept asking, at every step we took, what the next step would be. The first one asked for copies of our documentation. Since we already knew about these copies, we had them all on hand. Not satisfied, he asked for a photocopy of our exit visas from Guatemala.
We knew it wasn't necessary, but we decided to comply with the citizen's wishes. He typed up the papers and handed them to someone else to transfer to the computer. From there, we went to the other side of the road to pay a fee and received a receipt in dollars, even though we had paid in local currency. We went to the next booth and the other person gave us another piece of paper. From there we returned to the main building, to a booth marked "red."
We handed in our documents. Right away we saw some agents handing over other people's documents, along with the bribe. We only saw our documents jumping to the last place. Each hired agent who handed in the documents and the bribe took our place, meaning our documents went lower. All of this, right in front of us. Our ugly faces were no use. They waited for our bribe. We waited a long time for the car to be inspected. Then, we waited a long time for the supervisor to check and sign all the paperwork. A long time later, they gave us a bill to pay at the bank. We waited in line to pay and, when it was our turn, the employee told us that she would need a photocopy. Although it was not our problem, we went there to make another copy.
Finally, we returned with everything paid for. All that was missing was the permission to drive on Honduran roads. Another official handed over the stamped passport and said: "a copy more and no more". We laughed and went back to the photocopy shop. The official directed us to the counter where it all started a few hours ago. The cheeky customs officer, before handing over the documents, said that it would cost an additional 120 lempiras. We paid, but the receipt never came. The scoundrel kept the money. It was the bribe we refused to pay from the beginning. In the end, we left around 40 dollars at that border, for a stay permit of only 5 days, which took 3 endless hours in 35 degree heat.
Honduras is mountainous, so the roads are full of curves, ups and downs. Drivers would overtake at any speed, whether on a curve, on a speed bump or without any visibility. In two days we crossed the country, going to Santa Rosa de Copan, San Pedro Sula, Tegus (Tegucigalpa) and Choluteca. This time we ate the famous "baleada", which they enjoy for breakfast. It is a tortilla with mashed beans, cream and cheese.
It was time to cross into Nicaragua. On the way to Alaska, we had to cross the country in a single day, under the custody of a customs officer who had all our documents. This time, we arrived at the border and hired a very friendly agent to help us with the procedures. We didn't know if the old commercial problems with getting our Land Rover in still existed, and we didn't want to raise the issue. We went through the "Pase Facil", a modernization since the last time we crossed that way. Incredibly, in half an hour we were already in the country, without a single customs officer with us. We had total freedom to explore Nicaragua.
Still close to the border, and happy with the freedom to go anywhere, we met four boys, about 10 years old. One of them stood out. He named all the flags of the countries we had in the car. Very curious, he wanted to know about each of those countries and said that the best soccer in the world was in Brazil. This time, we felt welcome in the country.
Already on the road, and not far from there, we met a German couple who were also traveling, but in the opposite direction to us. We stopped, exchanged some information and continued on. The first 70 kilometers were on very bad roads. The children threw handfuls of dirt into the holes and begged for money. Unfortunately, we were already familiar with this same practice on some roads in the interior of our northeast Brazil. In fact, both Honduras and Nicaragua, which are the poorest countries in Central America, did not show us more poverty than we had already seen in our own country.
Well, moving on we passed through León, a colonial city and the birthplace of the Sandinista Liberation Front. In fact, it was at the Law University of León that the internationalists emerged. And then we continued on to Managua.
Due to earthquakes and civil war, the center of Managua had not been rebuilt until we were there. Even so, the city had a modern shopping mall and many new cars circulating on the streets. During the civil war, the wealthiest families migrated to Miami, returning later with money and the American architectural style. As a result, the contrasting poor and suffering country was mixed with the modern and sophisticated. Many "nicas", as they call themselves, fled the rural areas that were seriously affected during the difficult years of the war and headed towards the capital in search of greater security. As a result, the economic and social contrast was even greater.
Although Nicaragua does not have a large tourism base due to natural disasters and the social and political problems that have affected the country, it has incredible natural beauty. We took the opportunity to visit Masaya, which has a volcano of the same name, and Granada, a charming colonial city located next to Lake Cocibolca. The breeze made the city a very pleasant place in the late afternoon, with people sitting in their doorways.
Further south is San Juan del Sur, a beach town that receives few tourists. On Ometepe Island are two volcanoes, Concepción and Maderas. They rise majestically from the lake.
After getting to know the country, we arrived at the border. During the exit procedures, the police officer told us that we should present the receipt with the payment of the fee to drive on the roads. We said that we didn't receive anything to pay, but he insisted and we paid. After that, all that was missing was the supervisor's signature. When we got to the counter, the supervisor was an old acquaintance. He was the same one who had taken us into custody on the way there. He asked about our “safe conduct”, that is, the employee who was supposed to accompany us to cross the country. We looked confused. Of course he recognized us. We thought he would charge the same custody fee and we were already prepared to pay. But he looked unfriendly, said things we pretended not to understand and asked to see the car. After the inspection, he signed our release. We breathed a sigh of relief and left. The most curious thing is that we saw old and new Land Rovers circulating in the country and even a dealership. So, why couldn't we drive around the country? That was the question that remained unanswered.
Entering Costa Rica was very easy. We returned to Tamarindo and stayed a few more days. Lucca, the Italian owner of the inn, looked at us and said: "I know you!" We told him a little about our trip to Alaska and we felt right at home. Pura Vida!
In Tamarindo we met a gaucho couple who were on vacation in Costa Rica. We also met Lucca's parents, who were visiting their son, and we met Stuart, a very smart and funny 3-year-old boy. He greeted us by saying: - "¡hola! I'm Stuart".
Sometimes Stuart surprised us. One day, we were out for ice cream when he showed up. He was so happy that we gave him some ice cream. From then on, we became his best friends and he introduced us to many people. Every afternoon, Stuart would show up to play soccer. He had a very funny manner and expressions. One of those days, after an ant stung his foot, he got really angry, saying that the ant had stung him “really hard.” Despite the boy’s pained expression, we couldn’t help but burst out laughing, which made him even angrier.
During our trip, we had very few boring, dull or unlucky days. However, after leaving Tamarindo, we had two very strange days with many doubts. We were worried about the situation in Venezuela, which was starting to get really bad. We received an email from a Venezuelan friend warning us not to send our car from Panama to there.
Not passing through Venezuela would have hindered our plans to enter Brazil through the Amazon and left us not knowing what to do. We didn't really like passing through Ecuador again. We stopped for a while in San José, thought better of it, and continued on to Dominical, a beach known to surfers. In Golfito, close to the Panama border, we said goodbye to Costa Rica.
We crossed the border without any problems. However, something unusual happened on the Panamanian highway. On the highway between San José de David and Panama City, a highway patrol car signaled for us to stop. We stopped on the shoulder and the officer very politely said that we had overtaken in a prohibited area and that we would be fined. We didn't understand a thing. He said that we had overtaken another car in front of a cemetery. Trying not to laugh or make a joke about it, we apologized and argued that perhaps the cemetery was not so well marked. After much conversation, and using the tactic of smiling and looking silly, we were let go without a fine. We promised to be more careful when overtaking. Afterwards, we laughed a lot, imagining that we might have run over some "lost soul"... with all due respect.
Arriving in Panama City, we decided to relax and take it all in stride, because it was time to make some tough decisions. Meanwhile, the political and social situation in Venezuela was getting worse every day, with strikes and demonstrations happening more frequently.
Our other options would be: First, to go to Ecuador, but to make matters worse, we saw the heavy rains and floods in the country. Second, to go to Peru and enter Bolivia, but the rains left the Bolivian roads very damaged and our car had a small problem with the low gear. Third, to ship the car directly to Brazil, which would be unfeasible. This is because, when we left Brazil for Argentina, we did not receive any exit documents for the car. How could we enter with a Brazilian car that, in theory, had not left? So, the idea came up of going to Chile and crossing Argentina via the Los Caracoles highway, in the Andes Mountains.
After making our decision, we relaxed a bit. Staying in Panama City was great. We stayed in the same place we had stayed before. We met some more interesting people, like a surfer from Hawaii who lived on a beach in Costa Rica. We also met 3 travelers on motorcycles. They were in the same situation, deciding how they would cross to South America. One of them, Morten, had been traveling for a year and a half. He was Danish and had already crossed Europe, Asia, Australia, the United States and Central America on his way to Argentina. Luis was Argentinian and Patrick was American, but they both lived in New York.
Luis's final destination was Argentina and Patrick's was northeastern Brazil. At some point, given the difficulties, both Luis and Patrick considered giving up the rest of the trip and wanted to return to the United States. We thought this decision was hasty and suggested that they do some more research. That's what they did and decided to go to Ecuador. Morten would continue waiting for a motorcycle part that would arrive from Denmark that week. We would ship the car from the port of Balboa to San Antonio, Chile. But before that, we enjoyed the city and went together to see the island of Taboga.
After that, we kept in touch with Patrick for a long time. He joined the New York band Scissor Sisters as a drummer, but under the codename Paddy Boom. He stayed in the band until 2009 and when he left, we lost contact.
Central America was an unknown when we started traveling. That piece of land reminded us of civil wars, hostilities, dictators, earthquakes, hurricanes and corruption. After crossing it twice, we saw that the countries of Central America are home to incredible people, wonderful landscapes and a rich culture. We will never forget the hugs from the friends we made there and, especially, the sincere hug from Doña Norberta, an Indian woman almost 70 years old, who told us not to forget her. We never forgot. We left there thinking that we would return someday. That is why we were unable to say “adiós”, but only “hasta luego”.