Granda, Granda Nicaragua 19-9-2010

Granda, Granda Nicaragua 19-9-2010

Odometer: 15.999.6 miles

Crossing the border into Nicaragua was almost as bad as trying to get my bike out of Miami. The boarder has no signs on either side, and after crossing the 500 meters of no-man’s land into Nicaragua, the feeling of third world confusion, dirt and filth, poverty and thieves, and all the other reasons why I love the third world became painfully apparent. All the people trying to earn a fast buck by creating confusion and angst came out of the wood work. The line to get through immigration only took 45 minutes in the blazing sun, only causing a few people to pass out. The hustlers never give you a seconds rest. Then you have to buy mandatory insurance, a nice lady in an air conditioned building, who warned us of the crap to come. Then off to customs, the first agent has no building, but is just the fat guy in the blue shirt, wearing a NY Yankees baseball cap, off wondering around. I found the fat boy in the shade, having a nap. From there it is off to find customs part 2. She was very friendly to me, but she hit the next guy in line over the knuckles with a ruler for not paying attention, twice. Then it is off to pay the $5.00 gringo fee and back to customs part three, who won´t see you unless you have the gringo fee canceled and you have the policemen´s signature, who is actually in uniform, but out in the shade of different tree. Of course then, you have to pay the $1.00 municipal tax, which really is the last bribe paid, before the final blessing to leave the border. No signs, no one to help but slimy hustlers. Busses and trucks lined up for miles on both sides, people all over the place cutting lines and bribing to move it along. It really is great. And after just 2.5 hours, you are on your way. Easy.

Uncle Walter

Happy Birthday Uncle Sharon!

Happy Birthday Aiden!

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