CROSSING THE BORDER(S) IN STYLE, HONDURAS TO GUATEMALA TO EL SALVADOR IN ONE AFTERNOON
Dec 27 '01 (Updated May 09 '05)
The Bottom Line Well it was a pleasant little afternoon outing.
Welcome to the sleepy little village of Anguiato El Salvador. I'd missed the connecting bus. Now I was forced to kill almost an hour sitting at an isolated truck stop border crossing high in the mountains of El Salvador.
So far that day I'd been making great time. I'd left Copan in Honduras just before noon after spending the morning touring the famous ruins. I wanted to make El Salvador by evening and had worked out the fastest way to get there. Surprisingly it involved going through Guatemala.
Honduras does share a border with El Salvador, and there are several border crossings, but it wasn't the most convenient. To get there from where I was would have meant back tracking for fifty off miles to a main highway and then following this west, south west over the mountains to a sleepy little border crossing that as far as I knew shut down early in the afternoon. Even if I got across I'd be in the middle of no where.
Nope the fastest way, or at least so my rather battered map told me was to swing into Guatemala and then south west through that country to the border with El Salvador. This was high up in the mountains where the frontiers of all three countries meet.
I made good time leaving Honduras for the Guatemala frontier at El Florido. There's a regular shuttle service provided by enterprising locals. The bad news is it's in the bed of a pick up truck over dirt mountain roads. I shared my pick up with a couple of farm workers and an American expat living in Guatemala and her two children. We were all gentlemen, she rode up front.
At this sleepy little border crossing, are there any other kind in central America, we lucked out. Just after we cleared both immigration offices, paid our bribes and changed our now useless Honduran Lempiras for not as worthless Guatemalan Quetzels a taxi rolled up. Out popped two back packers bound for Copan.
Their driver was heading back to the nearest large town of Chiquimula. That was where we were all heading as it had the needed bus connections. The driver was willing to take both of us, well four including the two kids for 50 Quetzels ($10.00 Canadian/$6.50 US). This would save us over an hour waiting for the next local bus.
The back packers vouched for him and we in turn pointed out and vouched for our pick up driver. I found it interesting that all of us were more willing to take the word of fellow gringos who were perfect strangers as opposed to locals regarding whether something was of good value or safe. In retrospect the cab driver struck me as more of a respectable citizen than the two rather unkempt unwashed twenty something's that had been his last fare.
At Chiquimula's bus terminal I bade farewell to my travelling companion from the pick up truck and her kids and got my second stroke of luck. The driver told me he'd be more than willing to run me to the border with El Salvador at Anguiato some 55 kilometres away. He pointed out that it would probably take two to three hours by bus, as opposed to less than an hour with him. Of course the obvious advantage was air conditioned comfort and padded seats versus the chicken bus.
We haggled and settled on 150 Quetzels ($30.00 Canadian/$19.00 US). That incidentally was one of the most expensive single travel costs I had on this trip aside from my plane ticket and the cab to the airport in Toronto. This included a stop at the bank in Chiquimula so I could grab a cash advance. That took almost an hour by the way, but that's another story.
Burning down the highways in the early afternoon was a pleasure and even after the bank delay I was still over two hours ahead of schedule. With only two weeks to cover four countries, time was more important to me than money. I nodded off for a little siesta and woke up at the border.
We parted, with him giving me his business card. Hey you never know when I might want a guide for a wild night in Chiquimula. I dragged my rather large and heavy pack into the Guatemalan immigration office, and then the fun began.
Remember I'd crossed into the country only a couple of hours earlier and only some 100 kilometres away as the crow flies. This of course caused some strange looks. There would be more the next morning when I crossed back at a third border crossing. My willingness to pay the "departure tax" though soon found me tramping over the bridge to El Salvador.
On this side I was questioned as to where I had come from. This is a truck stop border crossing and no bus had arrived. I was also chastised for not having a tourist card. They were of course more than willing to sell me one for $10.00 US, which incidentally and surprisingly is the actual cost of one had I bothered to get one from the embassy before I left.
Between this and dealing with the money changers I didn't notice the bus pull out for Metapan, the nearest big town. No problem I was advised there would be another in an hour. I shouldered my pack and strolled up the hill to the village of Anguiato proper.
Village might be an overstatement, although I did notice a few houses clinging to the cliff faces. Like I said this was a truck stop and the main part of the town seemed to consist of a single road running up between two mountains that constitutes the pass that the border crossing is sited on. Along one side of the road are parked dozens of tractor trailers waiting to cross the border, or just waiting. The other side is a row of several cantinas and bars.
It was hot so I ducked into one at random, Bar Katya for those taking notes. It was cooler inside and the beer was nice and cold. It was not however the only, or even the main item on the menu. It was plainly obvious what all those tractor trailers were waiting for and it wasn't to have their manifests checked by customs. They were waiting for their drivers to get their, ahem, manifests checked by Katya.
The overtly friendly female friends of Madame Katya seemed mildly disappointed that all I wanted to avail myself of was a couple of cold beers. Soon after however the local bus for Metapan rolled by and I hopped on. Anguiato seemed like a pleasant place to spend some time, but I was determined to make the Pacific by nightfall.
Other Articles on Guatemala
Tikal
http://www.epinions.com/content_121484906116
Montericco
http://www.epinions.com/content_2552144004
Pension Meza
http://www.epinions.com/content_55394864772
Puerto Barrios
http://www.epinions.com/content_55183642244
Night Bus to Tikal
http://www.epinions.com/content_3104678020
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