(un)Planned Mississippi to Managua venture / 1982 VW jetta diesel

[sierra madre]

A Hidden Historic Mexican Gem

Day 9- Monterrey, Mexico to San Juan Del Rio, Mexico

Dragging myself out of my comfortable slumber in Monterrey, I awoke to Amanda and Eli both rearing and ready to go. I stubbornly took my time finishing a large cup of coffee that I hoped would carry me all the way to Mexico City. I threw on some brown cut-off Levi's, and my favorite diesel stained tee - courtesy of my good friend Shakira's horrible breath. We had lost 2nd and 4th gear rolling into Monterrey the previous night, and I was worried we would lose the clutch all together. Eli inspected Shakira and made several mechanical adjustments and insisted she'd be ok. We decided to hit the road again, further evaluating her health as we drove. Shakira soared out of Monterrey and soon had us singing her praise again! She flew through all 5 gears like butter as we raced over the arid deserts of Nuevo León.​

Snapping as many photos as we can as we zip down the road





Early morning heading out of town

In Mexico there are "carreteras libre" and "carreteras cuotas." Free highways and toll highways. If you want a smooth, safe, and well maintained road it is recommended you take the "cuotas," because the cost would be worth it. We traveled the cuotas throughout the day, stopped at several quaint and enjoyable roadside destinations, and had no shadow of doubt that we'd make it to Mexico City by sunset.​

Amanda chooses route to Mexico City





Roadside restaraunt on the way to San Juan del Rio





Enjoying our hardy roadside meal





Still cruisin' towards Mexico City

Pleasantly cruising at 70mph, as the sun dropped below the horizon and the landscape changed to a cooler, higher elevation, Shakira stuck a shaft into the balloons of our high spirits as her unexpectedly engine died completely at 70mph. We tried to keep as much velocity as we could, rolling as far as her shabby little wheels would take us. We noticed a tiny sign with an arrow pointing to an exit that said "Hotel." Eli jerked the wheel to the right landing us on a downhill exit. Finally, Shakira's wheels took their last turn as we lurched to a stop directly in front of the entry of Misión San Gil, a beautiful historic hotel.​

Misión San Gil

Dazed by the exhilarating roller coaster glide Shakira just took us on, we slowly tilted our heads up, and cringed as we viewed the beautiful hotel that stood before us. We were certain it was going to be way over our budget, but since the car was broken down, we had no choice. We went inside to get the price and to our avail..1,000 pesos! about 80 bucks. We took it! Misión San Gil is over 200 years old and was origionally given by the Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés to his lover La Malinche, asking for her forgiveness after being caught cheating. It was later used as a military barracks before being transformed into a hotel! The hotel is outside of a town called San Juan Del Río, and was gorgeously complete with peacocks, historic art, cave like showers, and a small moonlit cantina.​

Contemplating our dilemma and brainstorming over our next move

Eli spent the evening troubleshooting the car and was able to switch a few fuses around to get her started. Despite the daily Shakira mishap, the drive today has been beautiful and we all feel we are being tested and rebuilt stronger through each trial. And as always, ON WITH THE ADVENTURE!​

Pictures from Misión San Gil


The mansion was covered with elaborate hallways and courtyards that lead to more elaborate hallways and courtyards that seemed to go on forever



Mansion flora





Daily Log: 465 Miles, 9 hours, Monterrey to San Juan del Rio, Mexico on 57 S

Overall Progress so far: 2,343 miles

​

 

[sierra madre]

Tour De Los Mechanicos

Day 10, San Juan del Río, Mexico to Puebla, Mexico

We awoke early looking out our window at a gorgeous view of the courtyard. Two peacocks stretched their feathers and I tried calling to them, but I sounded more like a screeching turkey and the peacocks retreated behind the shrubbery. In the lobby of Misión San Gil, cafe de ollo (boiling coffee), was being served from a simmering ceramic pot and ladled into ancient looking ceramic cups. We wasted no time getting back onto the road and stopped in downtown San Juan del Río to see a little of it before leaving town. We wandered into an old abandoned building in San Juan del Río just before heading out.​

A farmer is seen tilling the land through a broken window in the town of San Juan Del Río

Eli assured us that Shakira was just fine to hit the road today ... 30 miles later the engine died again on highway 57 to Mexico City! We couldn't help but laugh as we cursed Shakira's name. But again luck was on our side as we rolled into a small town that must have been the mecánico capital of the world. The streets were literally lined with tire shops, radiator shops, and specialty shops for every part of the car. Amanda left Eli and I at the car as we flipped through the tech manual and tried each fuse from a newly purchased bag of them that we had purchased after discovering that we had blown a fuse.​

Amanda headed just down the street and located an electrical shop whose owner introduced her to a "very trustworthy" electrician. He soon pulled up in a rusty old Datsun with his 12 year old son riding shotgun. We took Manuel, the electrician, and his son to where Shakira lay resting. Eli stayed behind to assist with the electrician and Amanda and I left to get some breakfast.​

We are starting to feel like our adventure trip has turned into a big Tour de los Mecánicos

A little while after we arrived at the restaurant, Eli rolled up in Shakira. She was sporting a brand new "hot-wired" system connecting the battery to the fuel pump solenoid. We all ordered huevos rancheros for 30 pesos each, less than 3 dollars. I left a big tip for our lovely waitress and her family. We walked out of the restaurant with smiles and well wishes after having had great food and spectacular service.​

Huevos Rancheros

Our original goal was to make it to Oaxaca City, and our route led us straight through Mexico City. The traffic in Mexico City was oppressive, the air pollution rivaling that of Monterrey. We passed by a huge music festival that was clogging the roads with excited young festival goers. While stuck in the traffic, a stressed driver in a black Escalade pulled up next to us, the tinted back windows rolled down, and we were accosted by several pretty Latinas. "Are you going to Corona Capital?" they asked, which was apparently the name of the music festival. Attempting to answer "No" and instead explain what exactly we were doing, they interrupted blowing kisses my way and repeating "You're pretty" to me, which gave us all a good laugh. They kept forcing their wild-eyed driver to try and maneuver the Escalade up beside us, giggling and flirting in the stop and go traffic. Eli was loving every second and was very tempted to stop the car and buy tickets to "Corona Capital."​

Sunset over Mexico City

View attachment day10-puebla-08.jpg

I will say, the drive in and through Mexico City was a struggle for all of us, but the drive out of the city about wiped it from our memory. As the roads started becoming a bit more steep and the sun began to set, we pulled over and had a moment of silence for the beauty that was suddenly all around us. (Oh...and also because Shakira's old hips weren't taking the inclines well.)​

Mt. Iztaccihuatl

The decision to bear straight through the center of Mexico City turned what should have been a 2 hour and 45 minute trip into an eight hour day. Puebla is a far cry from our goal of Oaxaca City, but it's where we ended up. Luckily we found a Marriott because we thankfully we were using a ton of Marriott points built up from previous business trips. We pulled into the hotel. The bellman's teeth shook from the sound of Shakira's engine, as we parked behind a shiny BMW. We slumped into our room dirty and ragged after a stress filled, wild ride through one of the biggest cities in the world​

.


Daily Log: 185 Miles, 8 hours traveling from San Juan del Rio to Pueblo, Mexico



Progress So Far: 10 days 2,528 Miles



​

 

[sierra madre]

Want to Spice Up Your Salad? Just Add Insects!

Day 11 and 12 Puebla, Mexico to Oaxaca, Mexico

We left the Puebla Marriott early in the morning. At this point in our trip we had to open up Shakira's hood and connect wires anytime we wanted her to start, it was quite amusing for onlookers. We caused many laughs and sympathetic chuckles everywhere we went actually. Whenever we pulled in somewhere, we would turn the key to the engine off, but the car would keep running. Three gringos would file out of the rusty hot-wired Jetta, pop the hood, and pull the wires apart in order to kill the engine. This truly was driving in style (if 'style' means cruising in one of the oldest, duct-tape-rigged cars on the road.) The Mexicans in this region drive very nice new cars. I often caught myself fantasizing about riding in other vehicles that went zooming by us. For example, a bright yellow Toyota Yaris seemed to purr while floating over the asphalt, providing an airtight seal that protected it's passengers from the thick exhaust on the Mexican highways... not to mention air-conditioning... a radio... functioning keys... or, well I could go on! lol


Today on our drive, Shakira did OK, for an old gal. We love her, like anyone loves their old, antique great-grandmother. However, I'd never sign my great-grandmother up to run a marathon with me... Unless I planned to roll her to the end... Which very well may turn out to be the case now!

The drive was glorious starting with lovely rolling hills covered in cacti and getting more beautiful as we drove on. We entered the Mexican state of Oaxaca and were greeted by lush, beautiful forests with soaring mountain peaks jutting out behind. We wanted to camp so badly! We had packed all of our gear including a Nubé which we were desperate to use. But with the time we had already lost from numerous car problems, we just couldn't afford a stop. We passed quickly through these gorgeous forests and were only able to view the highest peak in Mexico, Mt. Orizaba, through the dusty windows of the car.​

Mt. Orizaba, the tallest peak in Mexico

As we rolled into Oaxaca we were all on edge. We had not taken any time to eat all day and we were like three cats in a bag. We all went our separate ways because making a group decision on food was more than we could mentally handle in our current states of hunger. As I walked down the sidewalks of Oaxaca, I was lost in the beauty of the old stuccoed buildings, painted many different colors that strongly clung to the Mexico of the past. I could almost envision Frida Kahlo designing this town herself.

I finally found an eclectic looking restaurant that was dimly lit with very low ceilings. I went inside and ordered an "Ensalada de Oaxaca." I had not had a single leaf of lettuce in weeks, and thought if I had to eat another taco I would go into anaphylactic shock! As I was enjoying my salad, I noticed that the delicious parsley flakes that were covering my salad actually had six legs. Looking closer, I realized it was not parsley at all but that my salad was COVERED in roasted crickets. Welcome to Oaxaca!​

Cricket Salad

Eli on his own did what Eli does best, found a way to peer into the lavish color, vigor, and heart of Oaxaca's culture through the window of his camera. He ventured around the city taking shots of the town and it's people, then, as he was shooting down a corridor, he came upon a strange figure hovering above the ground and staring down at him. The looming figure, to Eli's delight, was one of many colorful characters. Eli had discovered a festive parade passing by filled with shouts of joy and songs of celebration! He spent his lunch blending into the scene with his camera as his guide.​

We stayed in Oaxaca for two days. Our hostel, "Don Niño," was roomy and allowed us to get some movement and space. The staff treated us to a complimentary shot of their house made mezcal, a liquor that is the 'champagne of Oaxaca'. We had three options: the mild mezcal, filled with herbs and "good for digestion;" the medium mezcal, which also contained a heavier form of various herbs, and the strongest mezcal which was filled with worms! I choose the mild for it's digestive benefits after eating so many crickets for lunch, and of course Eli choose the strongest.


What was starting to stand out so much to me in this city was the feeling of community. At night the parks filled with young and old alike, all laughing, eating, and dancing together. The elderly would fix and sell delicious food, while laughing and talking to young couples or shooing children away. I had to wonder why the whole world was not more like this. Maybe it is because of the nice weather here. : )
​

Couple in Oaxaca

Eli and I ventured out into the park and had delicious tacos for less than 2 dollars accompanied by a local favorite dessert of "elote," an ear of corn slathered in mayonnaise, lime juice, picante, and covered in Oaxaca cheese.​

This city was absolutely beautiful and took my breath away. The street art was inspiring, the cathedrals were spectacular, and the vibrant young culture made me almost give up on the trip altogether and make Eli and Amanda leave me behind! Oaxaca is a gorgeous state filled with gorgeous forests, historic cities and beaches in the southern region. I will definitely return for a much longer stay in the future!​

Daily Travel Log : 250 Miles 6 hours Peubla, Mexico to Oaxaca, Mexico on 135 D

Overall Progress so far: 12 days, 2,778 Miles

*Photos by Eli Baylis*​

 

[hrt4me]

thanks for the update!

safe travels

 

[sierra madre]

Shakira's so Cool, She Doesn't Even Need a Fan

Shakira's so Cool, She Doesn't Even Need a Fan


Day 13, Oaxaca to Ixhuatán, Mexico

Eli and I got an early start with plans to make it to Mexico's southern border. We left Amanda behind because she chose to take a bus the rest of the way to Managua. She was having a hard time dealing with frustrations from the trip, and had less time to dedicate to the journey than the guys. It worked out great though, because she was eager to start helping out with the SMr team in Managua. This left Eli and I a bit weakened without her fluency in Spanish, but we both had enough skill in the language to get by.

We had spent a full day exploring Oaxaca the day before. It was a beautiful city with colorful buildings, elaborate cathedrals, even the graffiti was beautiful and interesting to me. We sauntered in and out of markets observing the daily lives of the Oaxacan people. They were so ordinary, yet gloriously vibrant all at the same time.​

A balloon vendor enjoys an afternoon siesta in Oaxaca, Mexico




Corn was NOT hard to come by in Oaxaca




Bartering the price of lettuce




I'm so glad we found this. I'm ALWAYS running out of roasted crickets




Find shade where you can

I was tempted to stay in Oaxaca myself and start a new life there. But when I heard the familiar rumble of Shakira shaking her old bones, I grabbed my bags and kissed Oaxaca good-bye with the promise of future adventures on the southern horizon.​

Shakira rearing and ready to go!

Eli and I made good time as we raced toward the Pacific coast of Mexico. We intended to find some good spots for camping, set up a few hammocks, and have some fun on the beach. As we continued south towards the coast, the smell of salt began to drift into Shakira's open windows. We were getting close; the plants were changing to large tropical varieties that I was more familiar with.​

Beautiful hike en-route to Ixhuatán, Mexico

Just after passing the coastal city of Salina Cruz we stopped for fuel. Opening the hood to shut off the engine Eli noticed something horrible! The radiator fan had completely melted off its rotor and was dangling limply, providing no airflow to Shakira's delicate motor. The men working the pumps at the gas station, though all in good favor, took it upon themselves to come evaluate the problem. They began climbing into the hood, pulling wires and fidgeting with pieces and parts, moving a little too fast for it only being their first date with Shakira. With wires and parts going all which ways and each yelling their opinions and plans of action, I was having a hard time shooing them all away. We found out that there was a mechanic about 5km down the highway and I was anxious to get away from the overzealous and boisterous gas station attendants.

As we had traveled further south the American recognized view of prosperity became less and less apparent. We drifted closer to the "poorest state in Mexico," Chiapas, where we pulled off the highway looking for the mechanic. His shop was practically right underneath the highway. There were two rust covered trailers with decrepit yellow-tinged tin siding, the bigger one lopsided and sunken into the ground. In front of the trailers were several rusted out cars, a couple dogs scrounging around for food, and three men hanging out underneath a wooden dilapidated porch. They were all clad in yellowed white tanks and letting their ample bellies reflect the late afternoon sun. Noticing Shakira limp up they probably thought we were vagabonds looking for money. They laughed and pointed when they saw two clueless gringos hop out, popping the hood to turn the engine off.​

Our Spanish, rustier than the cars on the lawn, was good enough to understand that the men could not help us. Though they did not have a replacement fan, they recommended that we do not continue to drive Shakira without one. Eli and I both agreed, so we decided to try and fix the fan ourselves. Eli had prepared a plethora of tools for just such a circumstance. We found a shady spot that was out of the way and removed Shakira's radiator. Although Eli was not a mechanic, having grown up in Mississippi, he was sort of a jack of all trades. We each had our own idea of how to secure the fan back on the rotor. We tried Eli's idea first, and were ecstatic when it appeared to work!​

Shakira's so cool, she doesn't even need a fan... but seriously... she does... she really needs a fan! This is our make-shift fan fastened with zip ties.




We saw this little guy shooting webs at our breakdown site

We traveled about 20km before pulling over. We were disappointed when we saw that the fan, again, was not spinning. We were out of options, the sun had gone down, and we had a partially working car. The nocturnal symphony surrounded us from the thick tropical vegetation and I felt something scamper across my toes. (I'm sure it was some sort of relative to the creature we met earlier.) We were in a dangerous area and in definite need of a SAFE place to stay. We slowly turned off the main highway to the town of Ixhuatán, which was situated on the most narrow part of Mexico's isthmus. We pulled the radiator out again and this time tried my method of fixing the fan, it worked for a bit, but then alas, the little gizmo/gadgety thingy got stripped out completely, and the fan would not spin... No more rigging, we just needed a new fan!


We found a very shabby hotel, and definitely overpaid. My bed either had rat droppings or gecko poop in the sheets and on the pillows. Luckily we had a pillow in the car making it possible for me to get a bit of sleep. We'll figure out what to do with the fan tomorrow!!​

Daily Travel Log: 450 Miles, 10 hours Oaxaca to Ixhuatán, Mexico on Mex 175 to 180 D to Mex 195


Progress so far: 13 Days, 3,228 Miles

​

 

[sierra madre]

In Trouble with Teachers!

Day 14, Ixhuatán to Pijijiapan, Mexico

We woke up early... Ixhuatán was a very interesting place geographically, and although I had never seen pictures, nor knew anything about the town I had always wanted to go there, based solely on it’s position on a map. Ixhuatán was located on the Pacific side of the isthmus of Mexico, the thinnest section of the country. We left the hotel in search of yet another mechanic.

The sidewalks downtown were crowded with women in long skirts and tight black buns, and men in jeans and long-sleeves shirts despite the heat. They were very busy hauling their goods to and fro. I heard more than a few people say not too quietly “Mira, gringos,” (Look, white people) since we were the only tourists in sight, but we were used to this by now. We strolled into a roadside cafe, took a seat, and enjoyed the local specialty, our choice of an assortment of marinated and spiced meats served on small but thick, homemade corn tortillas. It was cheap and delicious!​

We paid and were soon asking people where we could locate a good mechanic. We found out that there was only one in the whole town and it was not an easy feat to get there. Just then, we noticed a large group of people coming towards us in the middle of the street. It appeared to be a parade. As they got closer we noticed that they were almost all women and were carrying large washing bins. “It must be a baby shower," Eli suggested. The women in the parade all had bright smiles on their faces and were greatly enjoying their demonstration. As they walked by they tried to convince us to join the procession which was going down to the river. We asked a few men watching from the sides of the street what was going on. They told us that the women were celebrating their devotion to one of the saints by going down to wash clothes in the river. I saw plenty of wash bins but none of the women had clothes, I wondered what clothes they were planning on washing. As a few more women tried to get us to come along I looked down at what I was wearing. I did need a good washing. We started to follow along... but then we were torn. Shakira needed us, and we needed to get back on the road. So we headed back to find the mechanic.​

We fired Shakira up and soon turned down a narrow driveway. We parked the car before pulling in too far, and I peeked my head around the corner peering into an open air kitchen enclosed by black bars from floor to ceiling. I timidly said “Hola” as I poked my head in, and got a glimpse of a woman who was not completely clothed. Blushing, I retreated back into the driveway saying “Discúlpeme,” (Excuse me) as she skimmpered deeper into the house. Soon a man came out wiping his hands on an oil covered cloth, “Estamos buscando para un mecánico” (We are looking for a mechanic.) He smiled and gave us a warm welcome. He chatted away boisterously, Eli and I only catching about 50 percent of what he was saying, but we could tell it was a very funny and enjoyable conversation. He decided to pull the radiator fan out of a Mitsubishi, Montero from the 80s, and before we knew it, had crafted it to fit into our radiator, attaching it snuggly with bailing wire.

Clearly the mechanic enjoyed our company for he invited us for a walk around his property. He led us down to the river to show us how high it had gotten during the recent rainy season. On the walk back, the mechanic asked us to stay with him and his wife as long as we were in Ixhuatán. We declined the offer, thankfully, as we were anxious to get back on the road. Attempting to prolong our stay, he took out his special baseball bat, swinging, and shooting the breeze about his favorite sport. Eli, loving sports and baseball, stepped forward and took a couple swings himself. We finally assured him that we really must go, paid him $25 bucks, and were on our way.

We left Ixhuatán and were making great time. Until we came to a giant line of backed-up traffic. It was a teacher protest. After talking to some fellow drivers, we found out that it was the only route you could possibly take, and we would be stuck for several hours. We dug in our heels, bought some sheep meat tacos for lunch sold to us by a lovely roller skate wearing young woman, killed Shakira's engine, and kicked back on her hood. The "bell rang," so to speak, and the teachers finally let us out a mere 4 hours later.​

Waiting out the teacher protest






Teacher protestors finally allow vehicles to pass after 4 to 5 hours

We were still in the Mexican state of Chiapas. There were tropical plants lining the streets, and quite a bit of trash mixed into the vegetation. Roosters were pecking along the sides of the highway and smiling, skinny dogs were scrounging for anything even slightly edible. We were flying down the highway, when a jarring groan erupted from Shakira’s motor. We had only made it about 70 miles, and coasted into a town called Pijijiapan. The buildings had questionable architecture and many were made from scraps of tin that had been nailed onto skinny wooden frames.​

We pulled into yet another mechanic. This time there was a high tin roof with brick walls going three-quarters of the way to the top of the building. The floor was dirt packed with oil, and there were cars in various states of repair filling the space. The mechanic was about 16 and pulled a screw from between the motor and timing belt. He changed our oil and sent us on our way​

.

We stayed in a shady motel in Pijijiapan with only one bed and a moldy shower that would only spout water when you pulled on a long chain attached to the valve. It would dump an obscene amount of cold water on you until you just couldn't take it, and released the chain. We could pay either 15 bucks for the whole night or $8 for three hours. We chose to stay the night. They brought us a third of a roll of toilet paper and a very rough, ripped up towel, that I'm assuming was more popular with the three hour residents... All in all, I slept surprisingly well.​

Eli excited to share the luxurious "honeymoon sweet"





Me... not so excited... lol






Daily Travel Log: 243 Miles, 13 hours, Ixhuatán to Pijijiapan, Mexico


Overall Progress: 3,471 Miles​

 

[sierra madre]

DANGER: Guatemalan/Mexican Border

Day 15, Pijijiapan, Mexico to Malacatan, Guatemala

We left Pijijiapan and were merrily rolling along when we ran into another teacher protest, and the traffic was backed up! Apparently these start at 8am sharp and end right at 4pm. We had planned to get to the border as early as possible but our hopes had been dashed, and this time we were close enough to the town of Tapachula, Mexico that we decided to go back to find an internet café to wait out the protest instead of waiting on the highway again. Tapachula was right ********** on the border with Guatemala. And with all the teachers in protest, there were school children running all around the city. The sidewalks were old, and thick, oftentimes the step down to the road was as large as three feet.

We parked Shakira in the lot in front of a grocery store where we had a very humble man with worn and wrinkled hands, place a flattened piece of cardboard on our windshield to keep the sun out. I gave him 10 pesos, which by his reaction was generous and he generously thanked me in return with a smile and several bows of his head.​

Found a nice spot to wait out the teacher protest

At 4pm we got back in the car and headed south to the border. As is usual with border crossings, first you have to deal with the country you are departing from, which in this case was Mexico. Since we had paid a registration fee to get the car into Mexico, upon departure we had to find the bank to refund our registration deposit. This actually took place before we had gotten into Tapachula. So now, all we had to do was get our exit stamps. Soon we had everything we needed from the Mexico side, paid the $3 to get across the bridge, and headed into Guatemala.​

Closing the Mexican chapter of our trip, the Mexican flag is lowered as we cross the border and pass into Guatemala

We had been told the Mexico-Guatemala border was one of the roughest border crossings and for once what we had heard was true...

As we entered Guatemala, the yellow lines that typically divide traffic quickly changed into cracked, horribly maintained roads with no order whatsoever. The cars, with no direction, were chaotically honking and merging. All the way to the right was a long line of semi-trucks backed up. All the smaller vehicles had taken to the left of the road, attempting to squeeze back into the right line of trucks whenever there was no oncoming traffic. We joined the smaller cars and were driving straight towards the border in the wrong lane. Soon the men standing around noticed that we were obviously foreigners and began to swarm our car trying to offer help in exchange for money. We in no way affirmed that we wanted help, yet they were overbearingly persistent and undeterred, banging on our windows and yelling. They were all running in front of our car and attempting to guide us with sharp whistles and hand gestures. The border looked more like a town center than an official government area, there were vendors, children, and people everywhere. Our new ‘helpers’ herded Shakira off the main drag convincing us we had to park to get our papers filled out. Without signs or any lanes for us to go through, we could see no other way and followed them into a lot around the back of the buildings. As we entered, a few very casually dressed men raised a metal bar attached to a scrawny looking toll booth. And as we entered they shut the bar behind us, trapping Shakira in the lot...“What the hell?” Eli questioned. We were both concerned. "We're about to lose the car, I know it," said Eli, certain he had made a huge mistake by following the men into the lot we were now locked in. The lot was a huge, extremely sketchy, dirt space with rocks and giant puddles everywhere. We noticed about 10 men begin to approach our car, adding to the entourage we already had.​

Men piling out at the border to help foreigners attempting to cross

At this point we had all the doors locked, the drivers side window was down about 6 inches and the men were clamoring to convince us that we needed their help. We were totally surrounded and could not go anywhere. The men began to shove each other to better position themselves at our window, all of them trying to convince us that they were the ones who could best help us across the border. Before we knew what was going on, the men began to pick up fist sized rocks and pelt each other with them. Soon it was an all out brawl. All around us were people getting body slammed, rocks being hurled, blood, and complete chaos. The fight broke out literally ON TOP of Shakira and we just sat in complete dismay watching bloody bodies slam against the car. Eli and I just stared, mouths open and wide-eyed. We were in shock and couldn't even begin to think of a plan of escape. So we just waited. Doors locked, windows rolled up. Eventually the brawl moved a little ways away from the car. Just as we had devised a plan to catapult Shakira into race car mode and ram through the gate, a serious man in his late 40s, came to us, tapped gently on our window, and said in clear English “Come with me, I can help you.” He was dressed in a clean black polo and pleated slacks, and something about his calm demeanor among the chaos inspired us to trust him. We quietly slipped out of the car, locking it as tight as we could. The fighting men did not notice us.

There were signs that were difficult to see and even more difficult to understand. There were small, unofficial looking border offices that were no more than random small windows without propper signage. There is no way we would have known that these were the official border offices, or that the parking lot we had been directed into was, in fact, the official border crossing parking lot. We still had about three extra people shadowing us trying to get us to change our money into the local currency, none of them offering a fair rate. (I had downloaded a great app on my smart phone called “XE Currency” that gives up-to-date exchange rates.) Our guide, whose name I lost in the chaos, was able to help us navigate the tricky paperwork hoops and locate the right places to fulfill everything we needed to do to cross the border. He stuck with us until the end, even after he had received his payment, he made sure everything was covered and that we knew how to navigate our way to a safe hotel south of the Mexican border. We were very grateful for his guidance. It cost us about $25 bucks, but saved us from the confusion and fear for our lives.

Right when we left the border the sun went down and the hard tropical rain started pouring down. The road to our hotel was winding and rough. Shakira’s driver side windshield wiper had given out on us the night before, her defrost did not work and her headlights were very dim... Sum it up to say that we had practically no visibility. Eli was behind the wheel, as usual, and I grabbed a t-shirt from the back seat to continuously wipe the fog away to give him a clear a view of the path forward as possible. Shakira was still suffering from some issues with her timing belt and we started having problems keeping the engine idling without Eli pushing down the gas pedal. Our border crossing guide had filled us in on the fact that there were "auto hotels" and "non-auto hotels." The auto hotels had armed guards who would also protect your car during your stay, the non-auto hotels would not. The hotel was right where our border crossing guide had told us, about 15 km south of the border, we limped into the lot that was guarded by a man with a gun and checked in, both of us needing to decompress after a long day. We asked if it was safe for us to walk to the store across the street, the guard said absolutely not, but offered to go for us to buy a few things if we needed. All in all, it was the toughest border yet and we did not have a pleasant welcoming into the country of Guatemala.​

Can't see a thing!








Daily Travel Log: 112 Miles 10 hours, Pijijipan, Mexico to Malacatan, Guatemala route on México200





Progress so Far: 3,583miles




​

 

[sierra madre]

The Little Engine That Couldn't

Days 16 to 18, Malacatán to Antigua, Guatemala

At this point our journey became consumed with car problems. Upon leaving Malacatán, Shakira seemed to be in her death throes. Navigating Guatemala was much easier than navigating Mexico, however, it proved to be more difficult on Shakira. We had to climb up some pretty large volcanoes and it was a little too much for Shakira’s old engine to handle. The first night we managed to get a full day of travel in but were only averaging about 30 mph. We made it to a small town off the main highway CA-2 called St. Lucia, Cotzumelguapa. The landscape during the drive was absolutely stunning and we had a good nights sleep at an ‘auto hotel,' with a secure protected parking lot for our car.​

Lacy and Eli hitting the road at a whopping 30 mph!

The next day is when the car problems started. We made it to a town called Escuintla and as we were pulling out of town climbing up towards Guatemala City, we noticed steam pouring out from underneath Shakira's hood. It happened as we were climbing a volcano, forcing us to pull off to the side of the steep road. I was in the passenger seat and stepped out into the jungle foliage. As I peered underneath the hood, trying to help Eli find what was going on, I felt something bite me. I looked down at my feet and realized there were ants all over them! I had walked through their nest and judging by their stings they were seeking some SERIOUS revenge for their fallen soldiers.​

The mountainous terrain of Guatemala

The car had sprung a leak in one of the hoses connecting the radiator to the coolant reservoir. Eli and I tried to hide behind Shakira on the side of the highway, not wanting any of the cars passing by to see that we were foreign travelers. (It was understood that oftentimes foreign travelers are equated with money or valuable cargo and therefore desirable targets for theft.) We were in a less than ideal situation and were starting to attract unwanted attention. We had to come up with a plan and fast. Should we exhaust Shakira driving her over the top of the volcano stopping periodically when her steaming hood got really bad, try and go back to find another mechanic, or find a safe spot and attempt to repair her ourselves? After a quick discussion we decided to roll backwards down the highway, avoiding oncoming cars as best we could, and enduring aggressive honks and shaking fists. We made it to a pull-off on the side of the road and popped her hood again. We pulled the radiator hose out, cut off the damaged portion and reattached the hose that was now two inches shorter. There were still some leaks, but we at least were able to hold enough coolant in the radiator to drive to a safer spot.



We retreated back to the closest city, Escuintla, and found a hotel where we could work on the radiator a little more. We had JB Weld, an epoxy based sealant, that we thought we might be able to use to doctor up the radiator a bit…


The next morning we headed to Antigua where we could get some more serious work done on Shakira. We knew the radiator was not in any form to make a long trip, but since Antigua was just 30 miles away, we had faith she could make it. She was doing pretty well until we suddenly heard a loud, jarring pop as the radiator blew up all together. It was, ironically, the exact same spot that we had pulled over the day before.​

Stunning Guatemala scenery

I was at my breaking point. Escuintla was one of the LAST places I wanted to be. But instead of taking my backpack and heading up the highway on foot, which I was highly tempted to do, we decided to see how far we could get by rolling down the side of the volcano. We managed to roll into a truck stop off the side of the highway in Escuintla where a giant speaker sat out front blasting local favorite tunes.


Breaking down is not something you want to happen in a town like Escuintla because it acts as a hub for semi-trucks going between El Salvador, Honduras, and Guatemala. Not quite on the "Top 10 Travel Destinations" list. We pulled in and stood out like two sore thumbs. We were immediately getting clicked and whistled at, eyed up and down like meat on the butcher's block. I walked into the gas station and was greeted by two Latinas. One was dressed in tight black jeans, 6 inch platform hot-pink heels, and a matching hot-pink low cut shirt that showed off her ample cleavage. The other was dressed in a white and blue striped baseball shirt that was tied up at her belly button and unbuttoned quite low. They were definitely on the prowl, if you know what I mean...​

Shakira among all the semis at the truck stop where we clearly do not belong!

I dramatically told the overly friendly female attendant that we needed a mechanic. I explained to her our situation, and she told me she would go and see if she could find us help. I retreated back to the car and informed Eli that she wanted us to wait here until she located a mechanic for us. We were both uncomfortable and felt quite out of place. We were definitely drawing a lot of attention and saw people gesturing towards us or driving by skeptically staring. The female "attendants" soon sent more of their friendly companions up to our car window informing us of the 'nice' things they could do for us before we left and gesturing towards the bathroom. Eli and I frantically attempted to say "NO WAY! ABSOLUTELY NOT! REALLY, NO THANK YOU!" in Spanish.​

One of the girls managed to slip her number into the crack of the door! lol

After waiting for a bit, still hoping that SOMEONE knew of a mechanic nearby, I saw a man walk out of the gas station where the Latina attendant had gone to see if she could find help. The man was large and headed directly towards us. He lifted up his shirt, we thought... "Oh no, him too?!" but quickly noticed he wasn't attempting to seduce us. Hanging off to the side of his large white belly was a pistol, clearly revealed to us as some sort of a message. He was emphatically talking with the Latina who was trying to find us a mechanic. He stopped halfway to our vehicle, listened to her description of what the two gringos were doing here, gave her some sort of order, and then headed back inside. The Latina attendant sauntered up to tell us that they would have a town mechanic come look at the car. Finally. Some sort of progress. We were very thankful for her help, knowing that we hadn't really come up with a "plan B" if they had decided not to help us.​

The man with the pistol before turning around and heading back inside

We waited at the truck stop for over two hours and were about to try and test our luck somewhere else when a mechanic finally pulled up with his four kids in a beat up four-door red car. All of them were covered in oil stains from head to toe, and extremely kind. We were in good company. Eli and I crammed into the red car with all five of them and our busted radiator in search of someone who could weld and repair it.​

The incredibly helpful mechanic family




The family pushing Shakira to a secure spot

It was a confusing and stressful time, and took us about five hours to get back on the road. By the time we were ready to pull out of Escuintla, the sun had gone down and a strong tropical rainstorm had hit the area. The visibility out of Shakira’s windshield was very bad and she was still giving us many problems. We decided not to risk climbing back up the volcano that night and instead rolled into Escuintla to search for a hotel with internet so we could check in with our "SMr Parents" still waiting for us in Managua. We shared stories and looked for guidance via Skype as we had been doing all along the trip. They advised that we tow the vehicle to Antigua where they had a friend who would be able to help us find a good mechanic. It's been nice to maintain constant communication with Richard and Juli during our trip. We didn't expect to find so many Wi-Fi locations when we began this journey, and have been very grateful for how widespread they are in Central America.​

The next day we tried one last time to get to Antigua, but Shakira just did not have that 30 miles left in her. We died on the side of the road and had to start the process of rolling down the volcano, and finding help in Escuintla all over again. We were like one of those classic Mickey Mouse cartoons where Mickey's car slowly falls apart piece by piece on the way up a mountain until there's nothing left but the tires and steering wheel. Or the old story book we used to know "The Little Engine that Could," ... only that ours just couldn't. We ended up getting a tow truck that gave Shakira a not-so-free ride all the way to Antigua to the tune of about 100 bucks.​

The tow truck could not drive the entire way into the center of Antigua due to the old stone-paved roads that appeared upon entering it's limits, so they dropped us and the car on the outskirts of town. Eli and I pushed Shakira the last mile to a hostel in Antigua, all three of us being completely broken down upon our arrival. We all fell asleep on our faces, covered in diesel, after such a long and emotionally taxing three days.​

Daily Travel Log:155 miles, Too many hours, Malacatán to Antigua, Guatemala on CA2


Progress So Far: 3,738 miles, 18 days

​

 

[Quest4ADV]

What an adventure! Great read!

Good luck!

 

[sierra madre]

Thanks so much for following along! Never been on a trip in an antique, it has DEFINITELY been some kind of adventure!

 

[ExpeditionDreamers]

Awesome progress, thank you for posting keeping us updated on your trip.

 

[sierra madre]

Shaky Shakira Gets Her "fix" on the Black Market

Days 19 to 23, Antigua, Guatemala

We pushed Shakira into a snug parking spot in front of Hostel Antigua. We came to find out over the span of our five day stay that this hostel had a lot of rules and its employees watched guests constantly, scolding us if we were too noisy or got in too late. It reminded me of staying with my grandmother. No smoking, no drinking, no talking after 10 pm. Signs posted everywhere like a library. The trade off was fair though for it was one of the most affordable places around and was pretty nice too.

Antigua is a historical city that had once been the capitol of Guatemala before Guatemala City took the title. The buildings are old, the sidewalks are narrow, and it is difficult for two people to walk side by side. But it is extraordinary in its history and aesthetic appeal. The city is peppered with giant cathedrals, and there are scattered ruins from ancient civilizations giving away the cities age and cultural depths. It's beautiful and definitely a tourist destination. We had a lot of time here and used it to decompress and pursue our independent interests. I spent my time attending Spanish language school and going for long runs to my new favorite overlook high above Antigua. The point offered a beautiful view with a large cross that seemed to cast its blessing on the city below.​

I would let myself get lost each day to find unique places to buy local crafts and healthy restaurants serving up delicious local favorites. Antigua was a city that had a deep rooted culture, many of the indigenous locals still wore variations of the traditional Guatemalan clothing, bright and colorful, while selling delicious homemade food, and handmade items in the Parque Central. I would find the local venders waiting all along the park side each night when the tourists had all gone to bed. At first I thought they slept here, but after waiting in a nearby street-side food stall, I saw trucks and buses begin to pull up. They all loaded up, squeezing in where ever they could fit, and returned to their homes, wherever they may be.​

While I was exploring the local tourist culture in Antigua, Eli had taken the responsibility of dealing with the car and mechanics by himself. Eli's dedication to mending the car got him involved in a less than desirable situation. Eli rode along with Jaime, a friend we met through SMr, to Guatemala City where he got to see first hand how car parts are sold in Guatemala. They could not find the parts that they were looking for in the car part stores, but by happenstance found another person driving the exact same car as Shakira, a 1982 diesel fueled Jetta. Ironically, the owner of the car happened to be looking for some parts himself. He said he knew just the place, and signaled to Eli and Jaime to follow him. He led them to Zone 8. Zone 8 is the part of Guatemala where it is understood that you simply “should just not go”. It is filled with crime and not unusual for a black market vendor to hold a gun to someone’s head simply for one hub-cap, or a shiny hood ornament. Apparently this was where all the parts that had been obtained in less than reputable ways were sold. They found the man they were looking for on a dark street corner in zone 8. Just as Eli was about to pop out of the van, Jaime stopped him saying, “No, this is much too dangerous, you need to duck down, and wait here.” Eli waited anxiously while Jaime haggled his way to get the part that they needed. Eli at that point really had no choice but to just sit it out and follow Jaimes instructions.

Once they obtained the car parts, they delivered them back to the mechanic who worked on Shakira. He replaced the timing belt, replaced parts of the shift linkage, and rebuilt the radiator. By the time all of this work had been done, 5 days had passed and we were more than ready to leave Antigua. I was worn out from exploring and Eli was worn out from ceaselessly working with local mechanics trying to ensure that the car was repaired and ready to get back on the road.​

Overall Antigua was a beautiful City. There were several international tourists and we got to meet people traveling from many parts of the world, as well as a few wonderful locals. Despite the turmoil we had faced, and the difficulties with the car, Antigua was an extended pit-stop in a lovely town and turned out to be an enjoyable, stress-relieving breather that I really needed at this point in the journey.​

Daily Travel Log: No travel! Stuck in Antigua

Progress so far: 3,738 miles, 23 days

​

 

[Theironpusher]

I love seeing guys build up $100,000 rigs to do exactly what you are accomplishing with almost nothing... Good luck, I check everyday to see new posts. -Kyle

 

[warejn]

Subscribed, this is a good adventure for sure. Good luck on getting the car back to shaking down the road.

 

[sierra madre]

Surfing Guatemalan Mudslides

Days 24 to 27, Antigua, Guatemala to El Salvador to Managua Border

We had debated the previous night whether we would be heading north into Honduras or stay south and travel through El Salvador. We heard from several people that El Salvador was not a safe country to travel through and that we should go through Honduras instead. However, Honduras has one of the highest crime rates in the world and one if it's major cities, San Pedro Sula, has one of the highest murder rates in the world. Considering the pro and cons, staying alive being the biggest pro, we decided to go through El Salvador. We set our path on highway CA-2 along the Pacific coast, passing by the surf town of La Libertad.

We made great time traveling from Antigua, but as we got close to the El Salvadorian border, traffic was stopped AGAIN! We were expecting another teacher protest, but soon found out that mudslides were creating the delay and no one could tell us when we would be able to get through..​

The next couple hours of traveling were intense. We were driving along roads that were filling with water, rock, and mud. We witnessed mudslides running rampant as people desperately scrambled to save their covered mopeds and sinking trucks. We got into several spots ourselves where we felt our tires starting to rotate to the left as the road began to shift with the slide. This was not quite the type of "surfing" we had hoped to do on the coast. Eli mastered the drift and shift of the slide, and Shakira made it through... somehow. It was too dangerous to stop and take pictures in some areas due to the potential of getting stuck, but we were able to snap photos of a few cleared slide zones along the way.​

El Salvador was the most peaceful and laid-back border crossing we have experienced on the trip so far. Despite the warning we had received about unsafe travel conditions, we were incredibly impressed with El Salvador from the moment we set foot into the beautiful country. Once we had cleared the "mudslide danger area" and the rain cleared up, we were taken aback by El Salvador's pristine charm. The trees hung loosely above a smooth paved two-lane highway that wound its way elegantly down the coast. It was one of the most beautiful highways I have ever driven on. We occasionally had breath-taking views of the ocean and stopped for lunch at an open air restaurant nestled between the coast and the highway. We had a delicious meal of locally spiced rice, shrimp, and calamari for less than six dollars.​

We arrived in La Libertad just before sundown. La Libertad is the perfect beach town and is a weekend hot-spot for hundreds of people from El Salvador’s capital, San Salvador. Before exploring the beach, we found a hostel called "La Sombra" that was only eight dollars per person. La Sombra was definitely geared for young people traveling to surf and party. When we walked into the hostel there were several young international travelers lounging around cooking ramen noodles in the patio community kitchen next to the pool. That night we got to know them all very well. Eli even pierced one of their ears! You can say we quickly became way less than strangers!​

Beach photos in La Libertad

Eli got up early the next day and took to the waves. He spends his time on rock, not water, and so had never been surfing before. He rented a board, purchased lessons, and joyfully began to scamper surf drills on the sand. It didn't take him long to get up on his board either! It felt so great to paddle out any lingering trip stress I'm sure!​

We had a blast in La Libertad and considered staying forever but were compelled to get to Managua ASAP. We left that afternoon and passed through the rest of El Salvador, making it to the Honduran border by 8pm. We were in luck to have arrived at night, when border traffic was less busy, because the Honduran border offices were terrible. They did everything by hand and extremely sloppily. The border office reminded me more of a neighborhood, child-operated, misspelled "lem-un-ade stand" collecting quarters, instead of a government sanctioned border crossing. They treated BIC pens as if they were gold, sternly monitoring our use of them, and as they stamped my passport the handle broke off the stamp. The two cronies behind the glass laughed and pounded on the stamp with the broken handle as if it were a drum. He tried to stamp it again, with the broken handle, when it bounced off and fell on the floor. I was not impressed.

We stayed the night at the only hotel we could find while searching through Choluteca, Honduras. It was a pretty nice place and there were signs posted all over the property that reminded guests to leave their firearms outside. We left early to cross the border into Nicaragua. This border was very laid back and much more professional and well-funded than their Honduran neighbor. We were finally in Nicaragua and only a few hours away from reuniting with our SMr team in Managua!​

Daily Travel Log: 444 Miles, 20 hours on CA 2 to CA 3 towards Nicaragua Border at Guasuale

Overal Progress: 4,182 Miles, 27 Days​