Peenie Wallie

I decide to program my Waze nightmare. So I get the Waze app opened and search for a city. And....this is another thing that Waze does that drives me insane. When you put in a city, it shows you the distance to that city as the crow flies. Like...a straight line distance of say....100 miles. Then, you say..."yeah...that's the right city...go there motherfuck," and now it tells you that it's 140 miles to get there. Like...I have an idea...how about you don't give me two different distances to the same fucking city? Just a thought.

The noise tolerance in Latin America is difficult to comprehend. Like. why do they deem it acceptable to drive a car through the street with a bullhorn on top broadcasting.....anything? In the U.S., you'd be in jail.

Last night, they were loading up a truck right in front of my hotel, and they kept setting off the car alarm. And then it would stop, but they kept loading the truck, and it would go off again. And after about the 5th or 10th time it went off, I went down to the hotel owner and was like..."Are you fucking kidding me? WTF? Stop. IT HAS TO FUCKING STOP!"

And he went out and talked to them and I'm not clear what happened, but I didn't hear it go off again.

I linger at the hotel until nearly noon, and finally roll out of town.

It is refreshingly cool in the mountains of Guatemala. It's very nice out. And beautiful. Threatening of rain maybe, but just spectacular scenery in the mountains.

I stop at the first gas station that I see and gas up with rojo (it's not Pemex, it's a Puma, but they still have the red gas handle as premium.)

I roll into the border town of Esquinupulas (sic). It's a border town, dominated by a massive catholic church, surrounded by an insane market, similar to Aguas Caliente, I think.

I stop to shoot some photos of the church.

The traffic in Guatemala is just indescribably dangerous. Always there are cars

Like...surely nothing can be worse than crossing a border in a third world country.

They need copies of everything. Like...I have a fucking idea....if you need copies of everything all day long, why don't you get a fucking copier? Right? I know...it seems complicated, and counter=intuitive. But...yeah...you're going to need to get a copier.

I think that I would be richer than Carlos Slim if I put a copier in each Aduana/Immagracion office south of the border that operated on a credit card. Or...helll....even have manuel there accepting cash and servicing the copier.

So, I'm walking back and forth across the street, always getting more copies of something. And it isn't like I didn't bring copies down here with me. I have copies of my title, insurance, registration, driverslicense.....all of these things I already have copies of. This wasn't unexpected. But even now, we need copies of the stamps from Guatemala.

Now...he wants to verify the VIN on the bike. But he goes with the sticker on the frame. Only Guatemala is taking photos of the forks to get the VIN number off of he forks.

Honduras. What a fucking joke.

Like...now, he says..."this is your first time here." And I'm like..."it's funny, but no....it's not my first time here...thanks for playing".

Now, he says I need "permission", which is code for a "bribe". So, $35 USD gets me "permission", apparently.

There's a reason no one rides a motorcycle across Central America. Because it's pretty much not possible.

I think that the next border I come to, I'm just going to run it. And deal with it at the next border.

Man I hate the bureaucracies.

They keep appearing and disappearing....like whack-a-moles at a carnival.

Yesterday, a few things happened. I was in Guatemala and, at one point, I went through a little quasi-military checkpoint, and they motioned for me to pull over. And I was like...."Mother. Fucker." And I wasn't even wearing my money belt because, it gets so we from me riding all day long, sweating like a whore in church, that I had finally just broken down and put it in my CC Filson Tank Bag. And I'm thinking....these bastards are fixing to clean me out.

Fortunately, when I pulled over, they just waved me on. I'm not sure why he motioned for me to pull over, but the other guys motioned for me to keep going, so I rode on.

Like...you just sit here for hours like Kafka's "The Trial", and you're thinking they will call you and let you go on your way, but they never do.

Finally, the woman comes down...she was the one I talked to before...when I was leaving Guatemala. Now, I'm trying to enter Honduras. Apparently, you're supposed to bring your first-born child as an offering.

"Why...why is this taking so long? They're telling me it won't be ready for 2 days," I explain to her.

She goes up and talks to the guy. This is an interesting complex. It's a joint office shared by Migracion and Aduana at the two countries of Honduras and Guatemala.

Now, we go out to my motorcycle. One of the little female drones goes to pull off my sticker from Guatemala. And I'm like...."Oh hell no. That stays on there."

I had my sticker on the KTM for years before it finally came off. It's the only thing on my bike that indicated I'd been through Latin America. And, in all of my days of riding. Only one other person ever looked at it and said "I sse you've been to Guatemala".

So, no....you're not taking that sticker off. And I think I already mentioned that I'm running the next border I come to.

It's funny because, when I crossed the border from Mexico into Guatemala, I promise you that they weren't stopping the motorcycles when they got to Aduana.

Now, I'm riding through Honduras. The countries change so fast now I have a hard time keeping up with it.

The roads are immediately better as soon as I leave Guatemala. Like it was just a bad dream.

I don't really have a plan or a route, per se. So, basically, I just try to route to Panama City, and it roughly takes me through these mountains of Honduras, it seems. It's really daunting to plan something like this out. It's hard to know where to go. I don't have any real solid plans, or any real plan to make any solid plans. But I have to put something into the Waze app, so I put something in there. In theory, it is sort of on the route to take me into the capital of Honduras - Tegucigalpa.

Now, I'm following my GPS...again...as I said...I'm not really clear where I'm going. Roughly east.

I will point out that Guatemala was over-run with those little 3-wheeled taxis. I never saw one in Mexico. But they were everywhere in Guatemala. Like flies.

I'm following my GPS heading east. And slowly, I start to climb into some mountains. In front of me, one truck tries to pass another and nearly hits a car head on. It would have killed everyone in the car. Somehow, he jerks back into his lane without killing everyone. This is hard to watch.

But we are climbing up now, into these very cold mountains. It gets colder as we climb and finally, we have literally climbed so high that we are now in the clouds. Literally driving through the clouds. I'm not sure if it will rain, or how much higher we will climb. I pull over at a roadside turnout when I see some women. I stop and discuss the situation with them.

"Este es mui peligrosa para motocycleta," I offer.

"No. No hay problema," she assures me.

She indicates that the road keeps climbing, which is hard to imagine. I'm not clear what our elevation is at this point, but if the road continues to climb, then there will be zero visibility, because the clouds are very thick now.

I consider putting on my cold weather gear. But as I get back onto the highway, it starts to descend now. Maybe she didn't understand me, because she indicated the road continued to climb. But it starts to descend, and slowly, I realize that I'm going to live. Why is life like this? Why is it that the greatest relief comes from facing our deepest fears, and escaping somehow, unharmed?

The GPS indicates that I won't get into the city I am driving for until 8:30 p.m., which is way too late. There's no way I'm doing that. I'll have to stop before then.

As I come into a small town (Lucerna Ocotepeque), I see a sign that says "Pupuseria" and I'm like...."Oh I've got to know what this is."

So, I circle back. It's some type of restaurant ("Pupuseria Salvadorena"). that serves something called "puperias", and I'm like...sign me up. And she wants to know what kind....I'm like...."todamente" As in, give me one of everything. "Y uno cocacola, por favor, san asucar".

Then, I sit down. Now, mind you I'm at a small shack on the side of the road, looking out over a beautiful mountain range. And presently, she comes out with these three fat tortillas. Then, I bite into one, and realize that they're all stuffed, and with different things. One is cheese, one is beans, and one is chicharones.

It turns out that I ordered "pupusa mixta": chicharon, frijoles, y quesillo.

The chicharon was the best. But I have to write this stuff down, because there's just too much to learn. It's like drinking from a firehose. It's like you're trying to learn a whole culture, another language, while you're driving down the road at 60 mph. Madness.

Eating dinner, I hear a rooster crowing. I love hearing the roosters crow. I miss that so much. It's so primitive. Like you're living so much closer to the earth. Like if you take the roosters away, yes, you can buy your chickens in the grocery store. And maybe something's gained...I'm not sure....but clearly something is lost.

I'm sitting there after I finish dinner. And now, I realize...I'm in a new country...and I have zero currency in this country. Hell....I don't even know what their currency is called. This dawns on me AFTER I've eaten my dinner.

Now, I have to pay, and I explain to them that all I have are Guatemalan Quetzals, Mexican Pesos, and US Dollars. They sort of balk, but then when I hand them $3.00 USD, they're falling all over themselves like they've never even seen that much money. So they take my $3.00, and then offer me a cup of coffee.

"Con asucar, por favor?"

"Si."

It already has sugar in it. Genius. Now, of course, I sit back down and drink my coffee.

The sun is very low in the sky, which is odd, considering that it's only like 5:00 or so. I'm wondering why it's so dark this early. Maybe it's an illusion caused by the mountains, I think.

"Donde hotel?" I ask the woman.

She says they have a hotel, but there's no internet. And I'm not even getting an cell coverage. I'm in the middle of freaking nowhere. I don't know what made me think I was capable of planning this little adventure. I'm basically lost in the mountains in a foreign country at sunset with zero chance of getting to my intended destination, which is still like a 2 hour ride through the mountains and jungle.

I don't like this feeling....this getting lost at dark and having cars bright-light me for the next hundred mile-scenario.

So I hop on the bike, and I roll through town, but I don't see any hotel, and if the whole town doesn't have cell service, then I kinda doubt they have internet.

So I start heading out of town, and I'm not really clear where I'm going. I mean, there's a city I punched into Waze, but that's 2 hours away, and the sun is down behind the mountains and light is fading fast.

I head off into the jungled mountains thinking....I wish I were smarter...I wonder what that would feel like?

The problem was that I got a very late start, because I'm exhausted, then I had to clear Aduana, Immigracion, Immigracion, Aduana, which took over 2 hours. Then, I stopped and ate dinner because I was hungry, so now, I'm basically royally screwed.

And as I wind through the twisting mountain roads, it starts to rain, albeit very lightly. But, as I go down the hill, I realize that I'm coming into civilization. I see buildings. And lights. There's a chance I could live.

I roll into a small village, and I see a hotel. I race up to it, and then ask him if he has Wifi, but he says 'no'. Tres minutos mas....Izquierda"

So, three more minutes, on the left, is a hotel...Hotel Puesta Del Sol.

I set my trip meter. Start rolling out of town, roughly heading east. I watch the clock on my motorcycle. In 3 minutes, I see the hotel Puesta Del Sol on my left. Christ! I'm going to live.

I pull in and try to check into the hotel, but then I tell them....I have no currency. I offer them some Guatemalan Quetzals, but they act like they've never seen it before.

I ask them..."donde cajero automatico?"

But they say there's not an ATM in the whole town.

Finally, I reach into my wallet to see what kind of US currency I have. I have a USD $10 bill. So, I hand them the $10 bill. They act like they want more, but I explain that it's all I have, so they take it and lead me up to my room.

There's no heat, and no A/C, and in the mountains, it gets very cold at night. So I ask him for an extra blanket, and then turn in for the night.

By 6:00 p.m., it is solidly dark, and I am glad to be off the road. My guess is that, as I'm heading east, I'm getting to the eastern edge of the time zone, so it gets dark sooner. Probably I have another time zone change coming up in the next day or two, I suspect.