I have been without internet for a few days so have some catching up to do.
I had a quick surf session at Las Flores before leaving, including a scary wipeout near the rocks, but was still on the road early. The road from El Salvador to Honduras was quick but unbelievably hot. It is ok when the car is moving but as soon as I stop I feel like I am melting. At one stage the thermometer in the car read 49C ! It didn’t drop below 40C all day and even then only once it had got dark. It was still over 30C at 10pm.
Both the borders I crosses were at bridges over rivers and there seems to be a substantial space of no man’s land at each one. This doesn’t help me much because at every border I am driving around looking like a lost soul trying to figure out which one of the shacks, if any, at a given place is an official building such as migration, aduona, the place where you get the car sprayed for some pesticide or other or just a checkpoint where they inspect paperwork before you are allowed to move on to the next bit of guesswork.
Apart from the usual hawkers, searching for a photocopier, etc it is relatively painless at both borders apart from the heat. However I did fall foul of the law upon arrival in Nicaragua, but before going further on this I have a confession to make. I have been having a few cigarettes ever since I was able to drink smoke and gamble in Las Vegas. I know it is bad for me but it has been alleviating some of the boredom on the road, and I was enjoying a smoke upon successfully navigating the the El Salvador-Honduran border. At the final checkpoint a traffic policeman waved me in to the side of the road which I did without question. At this point he tells me that smoking is illegal in a car, which is clearly bullshit, and he is just trying to exact a bribe. I am quite hot and bothered already and not in the mood so play him at his own game feigning terror and asking if it is a serious offence and then if we must go to the police station all the while blowing smoke in his face whilst still behind the wheel. He laps this up thinking he has me on the hook, that is until in perfect Spanish I say ok if you drive there I will follow. Mild panic spreads across his face and he pauses afor a moment before deciding that it is not in fact an offence and tells me I can go. I do so grinning from ear to ear and chuffing away as I pull off.
Not much else to report apart from telling you that the road I travelled in Honduras resembled Swiss cheese because there were so many holes in it.