Nicaragua

It was surprising to reach the Costa Rica and Nicaragua border and feel a sense of calm. We were surrounded by the usual crowd of kids in the street wanting to help us fill out our immigration papers in exchange for a tip, but they were quick to leave us alone when we said no. It could have been a time saving decision to have paid one of these kids a few cents; they inevitably know the ins and outs of the always complicated customs process and could have helped reduce the number of circles Enric had to run around dressed in his Gortex jacket basking in the beating sun. The Nicaraguan border crossing process went something like this: first go to window A. At window A they tell you that you need to buy stamps at window B. At window B they tell you to go pay at window C, but when you reach window C, they tell you that you should have brought a piece of paper from the official at window A.

We did not know what to expect in Nicaragua - a lot of military, a sense of fear. In the entire crossing of the country that we made in less than 2 days we were stopped by nobody, and we did not see a single police officer patrolling the highway.

The countryside of Nicaragua is much more arid than either Costa Rica to the South or Honduras to the north. Lake Nicaragua makes up a huge portion of the country, and the Nicaraguan tourist board tries to pitch their country as an aquatic paradise - a giant sweet water lake caught between two salty seas. The only striking feature of the lake is two volcanoes that shoot up from the middle. We drove the entire length of the lake until we reached the town of Grenada where we spent our only night in Nicaragua. Granada is a clean, restored colonial town that reminds us of towns we have seen in Mexico. For being noted as a tourist town, we found Granada vacant of tourists. Our Italian hostel owner explained the tourist level varies with years as opposed to seasons. 2000 was a good year. 2001 is not. The American press affects tourism more than changes in seasons. This year has been a bad one in the press for Nicaragua, and the few locals we talk to are frustrated; they say that the Nicaraguans that travel to other countries (like Costa Rica) are the people who give a bad name to their country.

The roads in Nicaragua were in all phases of construction and all in abominable condition, and we were riding on bald tires that we had purchased 16000 kilometers (10000 miles) ago in Buenos Aires, Argentina. 100% tax in Costa Rica made a pair of tires cost $400, so we were holding out for the BMW dealership in Guatemala. Just before we reached the Honduran border, a small irregular piece of Nicaraguan highway perforated the rear tire. This was the first time that the "road" had really forced us to stop. Thank goodness for "Magic Foam" that Enric had stored at the bottom of a duffel bag. The directions read "Only for cars and NOT for motorcycles", but the wheel inflated nonetheless, and we were quickly off and rolling 6 kilometers to next town. Fortunately, Latin America is replete with roadside tire repair posts; we saw one immediately in the next town, and when we pulled up, the repairman immediately dropped what he was doing and came over to help us out. I have never seen anyone locate a hole so quickly, and I am convinced that it had to be luck and not only skill. Within no more than two seconds he had located the hole, and within two minutes it was patched with one of these super heavy-duty rubber patches that he literally injected into the hole. $2 later we were on our way - and not only did we make it to Guatemala without a problem, the tires there only cost $150 for the pair - so I guess it was worth our little delay!