El Salvador – Adventures of a Life Coach:

El Salvador – Adventures of a Life Coach:

As I rode over the bridge leaving  Guatamala, I was feeling really positive about El Salvador, I hadn’t done any research, other than earlier in that day I found out the currency is the $US. I had a feeling, that’s all, a feeling.

Border Crossing: Guatamala – El Salvador

Once over the bridge I was welcomed to El Salvador by two woman and told to park my bike and go to immigration. I was the only person there and asked how long I would be staying, I said “about a week”. The immigration official smiled and stamped a 180 day visa in my passport! That’s 180 days in Mexico, Guatamala and now El Salvador. How welcoming I thought. I got my TIP (temporary import permit) for the motorbike and smiled my way into El Salvador. Instantly I  climbed high into the jungle clad mountains. However, unlike Guatamala, the road was perfectly smooth tarmac, no potholes or speed bumps, I loved the riding. The area is known as the ‘Ruta de las Flores’ with sublime riding through lush jungle hills and coffee plantations .

Ruta de las Flores

The jungle clad mountains were becoming more ‘jungle like’; more tropical trees and plants, I was so happy to be there. 

More Jungle

And after an hour I headed south to find the Pacific Ocean. I arrived in Acajutla. After checking into a hotel, I headed to the restaurant on the clifftop the Danish guys recommended last night, in Guatamala. It was dark when I arrived so I missed the sunset. The restaurant was empty; not a great sign I know! The Danish guys left me in no doubt I should order seafood. I ordered a seafood soup and wow – without doubt the best seafood soup I’ve had, there was a whole crab in it! 

I wandered to a bar, also on the cliff top looking out over the Pacific and I saw a really bright ‘shooting star’, I was so impressed I stood up and looked around and I was the only one amazed. Is this an everyday event I wondered 🤔

Today is similar to some days each week, I woke up (that’s woke as in I woke up from my sleep, not the far-right meaning, although I have no idea what they mean) at about 6am and spent the following 3 or so hours working. That’s a little life-coaching and much charity work (some of you may be aware I co-founded ‘Cool to be Kind’ a charity that supports rough sleepers & vulnerable people). It was about 11.30am when I rode out of town and I followed the coast road South for about and hour to El Zonte. The ride, oh the ride! To my right the road hugged the Pacific Ocean and to my left the jungle clad mountains pushed into the sea! Much of the road was cut into the mountain as it twisted and turned, rose and fell with the contours of the mountain.  As usual I had done little research but my feeling was El Zonte would be a tourist town with expensive hotels, not what I was looking for. 

Pacific Ocean
More Jungle

I turned off the main road and rode the short distance to the beach. I passed surf shops and surfers. Fortunately, none of the expensive hotels I had imagined. The road ended at the back of some rickety, old restaurants, surfers & travellers carrying surfboards to and from the sea. I was going to like it here I thought 🙂 The hotels weren’t as cheap as I imagined (£50+/night) so I paused, sat on my bike and absorbed the atmosphere. An Aussie guy came over and started to talk. He lived there and hired the surfers mopeds… I told him I wanted a cheap room and told me that literally over the fence next to me was the place for me. I paid £18 for a room with a fan in what I felt was the best location on the beach. As I’m writing this I’m in a restaurant so close to the sea, the waves roll in under the wooden deck, I’m watching cool surfers do their thing in massive waves! I paid less than £5 for the best omelette ever and a cold beer. Happy Dan. Oh, the Aussie guy invited me to a party tonight 🕺🍺

El Matadero

Later that afternoon a 40cm long lizard emerges from the rocks and stops in front of  me to bask in the afternoon sun.

Lizardio

A group of Canadians were staying at the same place as me, they had been coming here and surfing for 20 years. 

I arrived in El Zonte 3 days ago, the first time on this adventure that I’ve stopped for so long! I assumed when I arrived I would stay one day. However, I didn’t account for the beautiful location, cool surf vibe, international community, pupusas (lovely local food) and Lulu the parrot.

Best Papusas in El Salvador
Happiness
Lulu

The further south I go the friendlier the people are and the more I’m enjoying myself. I intend to leave tomorrow morning…

I left paradise and headed for San Miguel a town about 30 miles from the Honduras border and checked into a hotel. I would get an early night and head to the border early the following morning.

Rural Traffic

For 2 months life had been hassle-free, then at about 2.30pm on Sunday 9th November things were about to dramatically change… I can’t remember the exact moment or even what triggered me, but I realised I required a visa to enter Honduras! Realising my error and wondering how I had overlooked it, I quickly started looking into options. Some research confirmed that I had been a plonka! I did my research via ChatGPT and didn’t double check it!!! How did I make such a mistake! 

Anyway, I had the following options:

I found out there wasn’t a ferry, so I set my alarm for 6am and got an early night 💤 as I was heading to San Salvador in the morning.

Before bed I wandered into the central square of San Miguel where there was a wedding ceremony at the massive Catholic Church. There must have been 2 – 3,000 people celebrating inside the church. The ceremony went on for a couple of hours and after everyone left the church most people climbed into the back of small Lorries and headed off home, I assumed to surrounding villages.

Virtually nobody who I dealt with over the following days spoke English, so the majority of conversations were via Google Translate.

MONDAY:

I didn’t need to set my alarm as at 5.20am cars, buses & Lorries started honking their horns on mass! I packed the bike and set-off. What a lovely early morning ride it was, back over the mountains, around the volcanoes and through the villages 🙂 Then I arrived on the outskirts of San Salvador; oh dear… it took me 45 minutes with what seemed like every other El Salvadorian to get into the city. It was now 85°f, every car, bus & lorry was emitting black toxic fumes, and for the majority of the time the traffic was at a standstill.

I arrived at the Honduras embassy at 9.30am. Having been to many embassies around the world, this one resembled an unkept small house! I entered through the garage and presented my prepared script (translated to Spanish) to the guard. 30 minutes later the guard showed me another entrance which I entered. Although very small it had the usual embassy marble floors, receptionist behind a polished mahogany desk… 

Honduras Embassy

A young woman told me that prior to August 2024 British citizens didn’t need a visa (as we don’t for all other Central American countries), but as the UK imposed a visa on Hondurans due to Visa reciprocity the Hondurans imposed the same on us! Yet again my own government makes travel difficult for me (Brexit having caused me the most travel & life problems). The woman gave me an application form and a long list of documents to provide. 

I had been riding since about 6am and it was now 11am and the first of many documents I needed to gather was a Police Clearance Certificate (I had no idea what this was). I found a coffee shop with WiFi and fortunately a policewoman came in. She told me where to get one, so; back on my bike, through the toxic fumes to the other side of the city to get one. I arrived at the Police Station, and was told they had no idea what a Police Clearance Certificate was! Back on my bike, through… (I think you get it now) looking for another coffee shop with WiFi. For the next hour people were directing me all over the city, at 1.30pm I found the right office. However, I wasn’t allowed into the building as the check was done by ‘Interpol’ and they were currently moving offices and all IT systems were not working. You couldn’t make it up!

One of many Police Offices

It was 2pm on the dot when I arrived back at the embassy and all I had was 2 coffees since 5.20am! Now to play the ‘sympathy card’… I told the young woman that I couldn’t get the certificate and that was a disaster as I needed to be in Costa Rica on Saturday to celebrate my 60th birthday with my family who were arriving that day (I know, it’s unbelievable I’m that old!). ‘Lying with Confidence’ has got me out of a few potentially disastrous situations over the years… She seemed to believe me and made lots of phone calls. I spent the rest of the day & evening getting the many documents prepared and printed to present to her the following day:

TUESDAY:

I was up early, battled through the toxic air in the rush-hour and arrived back at the office who might be able to give me the Police Clearance Certificate to see if their IT systems were working. This time I was let in, paid $3.50, they took photos of my beautiful mug, finger prints… I gave them so many details. The woman said I should come back Thursday as the IT systems were still down! I told her I would be back tomorrow (Wednesday) 7.30am!

Back on my motorbike, through the toxic fumes… to the print shop to get my letter printed again, yesterday I got it printed in English! So, now I’ve translated it to Spanish.

I went back to the embassy and gave the woman all of my documents except the Police Clearance Certificate, which was proving difficult to get. I asked if she could make an exception as my family would be arriving in Costa Rica in 4 days… she said nobody gets a visa without it. I wish I had been able to cry… 😢 I said I would return tomorrow and she clearly said “don’t, I’ll call you when we need to see you!”

WEDNESDAY:

I battled with the toxic rush hour traffic again arriving at the Police Clearance Certificate office at 7.30am. To my shock, the woman gave me the Police Clearance Certificate. I thanked her and rushed back across the city to collate further documents, and then back to the print shop (they all knew me by now).

Then, back to the Honduras Embassy. I knew it closed between 12 – 2pm so I hurried back. It was 12.03 when I knocked on the door. A guard opened a little hatch in the door and stuck 2 fingers up at me! He wasn’t being rude and I laughed (he was gesticulating come back at 2). So at 1.55 I returned, the woman didn’t look happy that I had disobeyed her instructions. I smiled and pushed the certificate over the desk to her. She studied it for what seemed like ages, making phone calls and generally not happy. Then via Google Translate she told me the document wasn’t official. I couldn’t believe it, the Police/Interpol had just given me it, complete with signature and official stamp. She said she needed an Apostille to confirm its legitimacy! 

What’s a bloody Apostille 🤔

So, back on the bike… another 20 minutes across the city, to another government office to get an Apostille (not that I had a clue what it was). At 3.15pm I was back at the embassy and she studied the new document and made more phone calls. I had the impression they weren’t used to English men turning up and wanting a visa! Then she said “come back tomorrow at 10am for your interview! If everything goes well you’ll have to go to the bank and pay $30 and then bring proof back and we’ll give you the visa”. Interview, what bloody interview, you know more about me than my family! I thought…

I gave her a big kiss and… OF COURSE I DIDN’T.

The crazy thing is I was applying for a 48 hour transit visa as they don’t offer any multi-entry visas, so I’ll have to do this all again when I return through Honduras, this time in Nicaragua!

This situation is one of the major differences between holidays & travel…

THURSDAY:

I woke up feeling very positive (I’m old enough to know that many things ‘annoy me or make me frustrated’ however, these feeling don’t last as my default mindset is ‘that anything is possible with a smile and determination) and packed my bags! I was leaving for Honduras as soon as I had the visa in my passport.

At 9.15am the Honduras Embassy text me saying the visa woman would arrive at 11am so don’t come at 10. Here we go…

I arrived at 10.50 and waited. At 11.15 one of the bosses said the delay was my fault as I hadn’t made the appointment online the previous day! I couldn’t as their system wasn’t working. I could feel my anger rising, but I knew venting my frustration wouldn’t help at all! I asked why the process takes so long (stop it Dan, this isn’t helpful). I asked how many other British people had been here recently (stop it Dan, this isn’t helpful). A few minutes later I was told that I needed an emergency appointment. I asked why (stop it Dan, this isn’t helpful) and they tried to explain but it sounded rubbish. I was presented with Honduras Embassy headed paper, given a pen and told to write that I needed an emergency appointment and it was free, no money was exchanged. I wanted so much to tell them that the system was ridiculous (stop it Dan, this isn’t helpful). I singed it and then had to ink my index finger and put my fingerprint under my signature. The woman then took my photo in front of the Honduras flag, even though I had given them professional passport photos a few days earlier.

He then told me the visa was for only 2 days to transit the country, I looked him in the eye and told him if he gives me the visa now, I’ll ride straight to the border and cross Honduras straight away and be long gone in Nicaragua by darkness (I don’t think is possible)!

I told them the system was so slow (stop it Dan, this isn’t helpful).

They sent me off to a bank with an account number to pay $30 into. There were more people working in the bank than customers but it’s taking so long. It’s 11.42 and I’m waiting in the bank. The embassy closes for lunch at midday! My frustration levels are rising… I got to the counter and he wouldn’t let me pay by card, I had to pay cash! It’s a bloody bank, what do you mean I thought! I handed $30 over and kept my incredulity inside. 

Time was moving on so I ran back to the embassy. It was 11.52 when I arrived, the guard looked at his watch and I just walked straight passed him to the marble floored office. I was out of breath as I walked to the woman’s desk with my bank receipt. The man walked over looking at his watch. I said “I’ve been running so we can sort my visa out before lunch!” He walked back to his desk and the woman pounded her pc keyboard for the hundredth time.

I know they are just doing their job, I have nothing against them at all. However, what a protracted, dumb-arsed system the Honduras Government has…

My feeling is that there never was a further department that makes visa decisions. I think the woman I had been talking to over the last 4 days does everything. At no time was there anybody else applying for anything in that consulate office! As I sat & waited behind her I could see she was creating my visa on her pc. The 2 of them looked at the visa, applied it to my passport, spoke so much. I’m sure it’s a rare occasion they issue visas. 

At 12.31 my passport was returned to me complete with a 2 day transit visa inside 🙂

Time to move on and learn the lessons – BE VERY CAREFUL WHAT ONE USES ChatGPT FOR!

As I walked towards the door, the woman said “Enjoy your birthday” in near-perfect English… They were the first English words I heard her utter in 4 days…

I rode out of San Salvador along the road I had been back & forth on over previous days, I passed the business district, the tyre shop that blares El Salvadorian music out, I held my breath as I passed the buses and lorries spewing toxic fumes out, I passed the place I had been turning off to get the police report, then further out of the city limits. I wouldn’t be riding these streets again I thought! Back over the mountains, around the volcanoes and through the villages…

En Route to the Border

I wasn’t far from the border and popped into a restaurant, to my shock, as I walked in there was a Christmas song playing, Frank Sinatra I think 🤔 they continued playing Christmas songs… I walked out and it was getting dark, I made a mistake and broke one of my 2 riding rules! The nearest hotel was 20 miles away so I had no option but to ride, it got darker and darker and the road seemed to be worse than usual. Combine this with toxic smoke from people burning their rubbish (people with no rubbish collection around the world burn it) and I didn’t feel comfortable. Riding into town it felt rough, and as I headed off the main road to the hotel the paved road ended and a steep hill was in front of me. I decided to find another hotel. 

Everything about the town seemed poor and I couldn’t wait until the morning to see what it was really like. I checked into a hotel and paid extra for air-conditioning, £26. I opened the bedroom door and “I’ve been here before” I thought. Not the exact hotel and room, but this type of room. Grotty, as we say in England. The sheets were clean but that was all. I needed a shower and turned the tap on (yes, one tap), the plumbing wasn’t great as no water came out, but I could hear the gurgle of water mixed with air pushing through the pipes towards me; then cold water spluttered out, I was dirty and needed to wash!

The next day my bike was loaded by 7.30am and I headed to the border. I could see the town now – wow, the activity, the colours, so may people going to work, getting breakfast (everyone seems to eat at street vendors). A lovely town bustling with community life.

So easy and friendly getting out of the country.

So what have I learned about El Salvador?