The Costa Rica - Nica border

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ENGLISH

...in the end it was only 3 buses and two cabs.

The border was a very Central American thing. The one eyed, toothless muchacho that greeted us at the bus station after the third bus was offering a comparatively luxurious ride to the border. We refused to start with, but decided after checking our watches that we should get our asses in gear. So in a dusty rusty 1987 Nissan minus door handles with inoperable electric windows and egg shaped wheels, we headed for the border. The Costaricans police love to check papers, so we were stopped 3 times before the border to confirm we were A: not Nicaraguans and B: that we had no Nicaraguans in the boot. Then we hit the border...where most of hell broke loose.

A squad, or gang, or a battalion of Cordoba waving lunatics swarmed our luxury carriage, opening the doors, the boot and grabbing our bags whilst hollering 'cambio, cambio!' and trying to sell us a form we could get for free in the immigration office. We declined their generous offers and scuttled inside. A couple of forms and a stamp later we were walking the half kilometre into Nica dodging semis on the way. A few more Costarican paper checks took us to Nica inbound immigration where another herd of loonies with cabs and currency swamped us and began screaming all sorts. One particularly helpful soul stalked us to the immigration window where he instructed the guy behind the glass that we wanted to enter Nica as opposed to searching for the dead sea scrolls. 7 dollars each to enter, more cambio dudes and old ladies begging 5p.

The cab rank with cab into Nicaragua was rank, as on top of the fare there was a cab skank where they promise you'll get some of the fare back when you leave the country. But we were in Nica! Lake Nicaragua appeared and the volcanoes on the lake rose majestically, the only distraction being our newest amigo swerving across the Pan American highway as trucks and buses approached, while he gave us the low-down on the lake, the status of the volcanoes and tried to get his windows to work. LOOK AT THE ROAD LOCO MOFO!!!!!! We stopped asking questions until we got to 'chilled out' San Juan Del Sur.....

FRANCAIS

... Finalement, il ne fallut que 3 bus et 2 taxis.

Les "rites de passage" à la frontière Costa Rica-Nicaragua... Après le 3ème bus, on a trouvé un chauffeur de taxi (borgne et édenté, mais très charmant malgrés tout) pour nous conduire jusqu'à Peñas blancas (le nom du bled à la frontière). Sa vieille Nissan (année 1987 et 600,000 kms au compteur, vitres électriques en panne et plus de poignées sur les portes à l'arrière) s'est faite arrêter 3 fois par des officiers costaricains voulant vérifier que nous n'étions pas des travailleurs/trafficants nicaraguayens (ou qu'il n'y avait pas de travailleurs/trafficants nicaraguayens dans le coffre et seulement nos sacs à dos).

A peine arrivés, nous sommes pris d'assaut par une horde de fous hurlant et brandissant dans les airs des liasses de cordobas... On les contourne.
Quelques formulaires administratifs, tampons et signatures plus tard, nous marchons les 500 mètres de no man's land entre les deux pays... Marche au cours de laquelle nous sommes encore controlés 3 fois par les authorités costaricaines.
Encore quelques formulaires administratifs, tampons et signatures et nous sommes au Nicaragua! Là, une deuxième horde de "locos" proposant taxi, dollars, cordobas et autres. On laisse tomber l'option des 2 bus et pour une poignée de dollars, on decide de monter dans un deuxième taxi jusqu'à San Juan Del Sur. Le lac Nicaragua et deux volcans sur la droite, nous filons sur la plus longue route du monde: l'autoroute pan-américaine, qui s'étire sur 47,000 kms du Chili jusqu'à l'Alaska.

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Comments

[Stu]

Stress?
J - I thought I was having a stressful week back in your old employer, but having read your latest blog it seems rather easy and peaceful in comparison! Incidently the one before reminded me just how much I love (*NOT*) the Americans..... stay alive dude !!!

[Mart]

Whats wrong with Americans Stu?Don't hate.