I don’t know what you think of those Facebook posts that ask how many countries/cities of the world you have visited. Often, rather than asking a straight question, it will be couched in terms of “Nobody can say they have been to more than 10/15/20/25 of the following”. If a quick scan of the list reveals that I have definitely been to far in excess of the stated number, then I’m in and posting my impressive number. Alternatively, if the list comprises cities in Eastern Europe and/or the African continent, and the bar is set at 5 or more, then I’m scrolling down, without a moment’s hesitation, to look at what one of my mates had for his meal in a restaurant last night. But, isn’t this what FB is for? Constantly looking at other people’s lifestyle and either going for one-upmanship or reading/looking, maybe a reluctant ‘Like’ and moving on, while secretly harbouring a sense of envy.

Anyway, Tuesday 3rd January 2023 will go down as the day Pat and I racked up 4 countries in one day. Perhaps someone could post a “What is the most countries in Central America (excluding Panama and Costa Rica) that you have visited in one day. Nobody has done more than 3”. I’m certainly up to posting on that thread.

We have not found travelling around Central America as easy as we did in South America 6 years ago. There, the inter-city and inter country buses were of the coach type with many overnight buses having seats that laid back 160 degrees. Yes, almost horizontal. Here, moving about is effected by mini-bus or ‘collectivo’. These 12-15 seat buses, usually have roof racks for the luggage.

The next leg of our trip would be a long one. In order to make the schedule work, we needed to get to our furthest northerly point and then work our way south (down).

And so, here we are in Leon, Nicaragua, aiming for Antigua, Guatemala. The agent tells us that it takes 16 hours, leaving in the early hours of the morning and, arriving around 8pm.

We were told that departure would be at 3.30am and that we should be outside our hotel at least 15 minutes before. This presumably is the time of the earliest pick ups. We set the alarm for 2:15am. and find that the door to the hostel is locked. Where is the night porter? We search and eventually find him asleep under a blanket under a table in the garden!.

“Better kick him”, I tell Pat.

“Why me? You kick him.” counters Pat.

“Not THAT hard!”

He’s awake.

As the clock ticked over 4:15am, we knew that we were certainly not first to be picked up. A call to the WhatsApp number, (which turned out to be in another country!), solicited a standard response that the driver was running late due to traffic/ travellers oversleeping. Probably the latter as it is the middle of the night.

When it does eventually turn up, we are the last to board and only the back seats remain for us to squeeze into. Our 10 companions comprise 3 Israeli girls, 3 Swiss, three lone traveller girls, from Belgium, Holland and Hong Kong, respectively and an American “dude”

The dude is loud. He is American after all. His surfboard is on the roof rack. From time to time I refer to him as Tigger, The Puppy, Surfer Dude and that t..t with the shaggy hair. You get the picture. I can’t take to him. He does speak good Spanish, though, which may prove useful.

The whole purpose of leaving at this ungodly hour is to effect border crossings during daylight hours. In this case, it is most important, as we need to drive to the Nicaraguan border with Honduras, then drive across south west Honduras to the El Salvador border and then traverse the full length of El Salvador to get to Guatemala. The idea is that we cross the borders just after first light, late morning and late afternoon, arriving at our destination in Antigua Guatemala around 7-8pm.

Good luck with that.

We leave Leon just before 5am. We are already 90 minutes behind schedule but don’t fret, we’ve got Lewis Hamilton at the wheel, he will make that up easily!

Just a 2 hour drive to the border. Achieved in an hour and a half. Its dark, of course, so Lewis can see the lights of approaching cars and lorries well ahead of the curves on the mountain roads, enabling him to overtake at any point. Luckily, despite being thrown about, I am able to doze, thus missing having to witness what must have been many near misses with oncoming traffic.

We survive the race to the border and emerge from our capsule into the early morning light at Guasule, the crossing point from Nicaragua into Honduras. Lewis collects all our passports and $10 each for the tax and sets off to the immigration building. Wait a minute. There’s no tax to depart Nicaragua! Turns out that the ‘tax’ was to ensure he could avoid the queues and the need to unload all the bags for inspection. Jive Bunny is out of the van first, to help Lewis deal with things! Then I see him directing cars into parking spaces. No end to this guy’s talents!

Suitably stamped for exit, we receive our passports and get back in the van for the short trip to Honduran immigration. No jumping the queues here though. We are shepherded into the building. Signs say that the wearing of masks is compulsory. I don’t have one but nobody appears to be bothered. Whilst my fellow passengers are fully compliant, I am siding with the officials in the hall, none of whom are wearing masks.

Two Canadian guys, from another bus, are at the front but appear to have an issue as they do not seem to be being processed. We speculate as to the reason. No Visa? Invalid stamps in a passport? Canadian?

Eventually they move on. Then an official invites everyone else in our queue to follow the Canadians and move out of the hall and back outside. We are ushered through the exit and formed into a new queue, seemingly just for us, alongside the outside of the building. The Canadians in the vanguard, are now talking through a small side window. They are quickly ‘processed’ and move on back into the immigration building. A buzz passes down the line. Covid. It is necessary to provide a copy of your proof of vaccination to obtain a ticket to be presented to the Immigration Officer.

I take the opportunity to buy a mask from an enterprising old man who had a supply of them amongst the crisps, nachos and peanuts. Two for $3. Very reasonable. When we eventually get to the window the very pleasant lady asks for evidence of our vaccinations, which I found easily on my phone but Pat had difficulty accessing hers. This is the complete opposite of the normal situation. Mine was checked and the receipt issued. I explain that my wife cannot access hers and with a smile the lady issues her receipt without any further ado or inspection.

Back to the immigration hall, where at least two coach loads have arrived and are all in front of us. We can see the Canadians three quarters of the way back in the queue as we are directed to a window with only two people waiting ahead of us. We appear to have jumped the queue. Indeed we are soon at the window but a woman pushes in. I can’t really complain.

That was easy! Merely three hours to get through. Only 2 more borders to go.

Now for the 90 mile dash across south western Honduras to El Salvador. Should be there by lunch time.

When I say lunchtime, I do, of course, mean ‘hottest part of the day’ time. True enough at around 1pm we are disgorged from the bus in front of a doorway, through which most of humanity is attempting to pass. We are ushered to the doorway only to be told to go around the corner and join the queue. No opportunity to pay any ‘tax’ to jump this queue but at least nobody wants to examine our bags.

We follow the queue around the corner, along the side of the building and down the road. Unfortunately, the shadow of the building no longer offers respite from the burning sun. Mad dogs, an Englishman and woman…3 Swiss, a Belgian…oh, and there’s those Canadians again. Where’s Surfer Dude?

It seems that he ignored the instruction to join the queue and just walked through into the immigration hall and now here he is coming down the road, stamped passport in hand. I still can’t take to him but I resolve to improve my Spanish. He offers to get provisions for us while we are waiting. What a nice guy! It transpires, (I’m ear-wigging conversations), he’s a fisherman back home in Alaska. Fishing’s loss.

Two hours in the sun. And no, I won’t buy a parasol for $10. None of us will. Why doesn’t she try just renting them for the time it takes to get back into the shade of the building. I’m sure she’d make more money.

Eventually we pass through the doorway to El Salvador and see that there is a queue inside! At least it has a fan. The Immigration Officers are behind their windows in their air-conditioned offices. I can feel the cold as I am processed at the window. Lovely. I want to stay here longer. Stamp. Gracias! Why do they process me faster than everyone else. Back out to the heat to wait for the others.

Two borders down just one more to go. It should be around 6 hours to drive across El Salvador, but we have to stop to drop some off at El Tunco (the beach) and at San Salvador Airport. Its mid afternoon and there is no way we will be crossing into Guatemala in daylight. Never mind. we have an afternoon in a van to look forward to and its only 32C outside.

After dropping off our HK friend at the airport, or at least a service station nearby, we roll into El Tunco around 6.30pm. Its already dark. On the way in we experience the reddest sunset sky I think that I’ve ever seen. The sun is a fireball in the sky. No really, the sun is a fireball in the sky!

We drop off the Fisherman’s Friend and one other but we also pick up a couple of newcomers who are going with us all the way to Antigua. The driver, no longer Lewis, informs us that we should be in Antigua in around 6 hours!

The Belgian girl is now suffering from acute stomach pains. Appendicitis? Women’s’ problems? Something she ate? Pat gives her a strong painkiller and she settles down to sleep. She is able to do this as its much quieter without Surfin’ Sam the Fisherman.

Like Dylan Thomas this old man rages against the dying of the light and does not go gently. Its pretty uncomfortable and I haven’t had much sleep. That little bit I have had has been fitful. I’m a grumpy old man. At least I’m better off than the young Belgian girl.

Eventually we enter Guatemala after an uneventful border crossing. No Covid checks, no baggage checks and no queue.

Antigua, our goal, is in sight, (poetic license- its pitch black). We are not the last to be dropped off, that distinction goes to the couple that recently joined us at El Tunco, but it is well after 2am when we roll into our bed. Its been almost 24 hours since we dragged ourselves out of our slumber in Leon, some 455 miles behind us.

It had better be worth it!