true life planet

Um…crossing the border into Honduras is not exactly as easy as Lonely Planet makes it out to be. This could be because we are two women traveling together and the guidebook we have is written by a man. It could be because we chose a different route than the gringo bus tour.
Who knows? At any rate, it was dangerous as hell and definitely did not match the description of what I had read.

Here’s what happened:

We left Escapules, Guatemala by way of a collectivo taxi (a taxi that has 5 passengers in it who split the fare) to get to Aqua Caliente, Honduras. I had read in my guidebook that we had a choice of a collectivo taxi or a minibus, for about the same price. But what our guidebook didn’t say was that this not the route generally taken. The route that is normally taken is Escapules to El Florido in Guatemala, and then to the Copan Ruinas, Honduras.

The collectvo taxi we took was entertaining-I was in the front seat with the lecherous, apparently fervently religious taxi driver. Moira was in the backseat with a little boy and two Honduran cowboys. Part way thru the trip the confusion began, when everyone discovered we were going to the Ruins of Copan, and told us we were taking the wrong route, that it was going to take too long the way we were going. Everyone was giving us different information..we finally decided that we would take the Aqua Calinte route, as we were already in route, and almost there. Besides, a bus ride for a few hours thru the Honduran countryside would be worth the extra time, right? The taxi driver suggested ever so politely under his vbreath that I leave Moira behind with the Honduran cowboys and he would be my private taxi driver….I declined of course.

When we got to the border crossing, things got weird. The taxi driver dropped us off at the Guatemalan side of things, which was a shiny, big, almost empty office building. There were armed guards outside and three somewhat bored officials at a desk playing cards. One glanced at our passports and sent us on our way with a nod. There was also a strange tallish man loitering near us, who appartly was the taxi driver to the Honduran Border. The man was like-there is no polite way to describe him-he was grinning and muttering under his breath and very very creepy. We went out the door and he followed us, still being utterly creepy.

At this point, we walked over to the one taxi that was at the border. As we walked the creepy guy followed us (it turned out it was his taxi) and also the few money changers that were at the border were all talking to us. We didn{t have any limpieras, as we had read it was pretty simple to change your money over at the Honduran side at the bank there. The money changers told us the bank was closed (also not in the guidebook!) so…we were at their mercy.
I had written down the exchange rate the night before.The exchange rate the guy wanted to give us was terrible. I told him so, and he went off all irritated at us.

The taxi driver meanwhile had become extremely lecherous, as well as raising the price of the taxi ride considerably. He was extremely disgusting in his comments. I should say at this point that I had with me some extremely conservative travel clothes, and was wearing practically a nun’s habit(having read that such clothing would be helpful at a border crossing somewhere!). Moira was also dressed conservatively…we both thought this would help us in the crossing the border process. When the comments got worse, I told thew guy that I was a missionary! And he apologized-but the taxi price remained high and the lecherousness continued.

At this point, we were just trying to be calm and figure out what to do next. There was aguy hanging around still from our collectivo taxi, who said he was worried about us. His name was Antonio and he turned out to be a total sweetheart. he was going to walk over the border into Honduras, but he had held back because he was watching out situation with all these guys.
We talked to him for a few minutes and decided to ditch the taxi and walk across the border with him. We were kind of freaking out a little bit, because the situation was really stressful and we were not picturing ourselves walking across a border. But off we went.

The walk itself was about 2 kilometers, along a paved highway. The highway is lined on either side with semi trucks and cars that have been confisticated. There are men wandering around sort of doing nothing but staring at you. We were walking tall and strong, and definitely I was not going to let anyone mess with me at that point. I think Moira and I were nervous at first, walking with this Honduran guy we didn’t know. As we walked along, we learned about his life: he worked at a finca(farm) and was returning home to Honduras. One thing I noticed is he had bought new clothes for himself: he had on new shoes, jeans, white crisp shirt and gleaming cowboy hat. He was very small in frame, very short, with these very beautiful brownish green eyes (which turned out to be a common feature in Honduras). He was funny and had a great sense of humor about the situation. He thought we were the first gringas to walk across the border with a cowboy(probably true-at least the first gringas to walk across the border in quite awhile).

We saw the Honduran border side from a long way off-a sort of energy surrounded the place which was uncomfortable. There were somewhat temporary shanties set up, lots of men roaming around, and a metal bar across the road. The whole place had a shifty feel to it. The men were all eyeing us….it was here we said goodbye to Antonio, who had many miles left to walk.

There seemed to be no discernable office building or officials-a man in plainclothes motioned for us to go to the border crossing office. We went up to the window, and the games began.
The official was about 25 years old, plump, and slow as molasses. He had something going on with the moneychangers, who were loitering near the window and everyone was talking with their eyes, not with words. Everytime a money changer (or possible theif) got too close to us, we would say in Spanish, “Do you need something?” and they would wander away, only to be replaced by another guy.

The official was taking his time with our passports. He would not give them back, and we were standing our ground and making sure they didn’t leave our sight. The official gave us a different amount than we had read was the fee to cross the border(the books all say $2, it was $3). It was useless to disagree, as it was posted on the wall $3 for all USA citizens. The problem was we had no limpieras, and the money changers were all creepy and in on it with the official. The official kept asking us where were our dollars, and we kept sayioing we had none because we lived in Guatemala. He told us to go the bank and get some limpieras to pay the fee.

The problem was, he would not give us our passports back, and we did not want to leave them with him while we went to the bank. So we had no choice but to separate-Moira went to the bank, while I stayed by the window of the office with the passports in my sight with my hand on them. While Moira was gone at the bank, the official said to me , ” Come into the waiting room here, it’s a big office, it’s safer in here than out there with all the people.” I didn’t like the official at all, but I really was nervous out with the people out in the street. It felt dangerous on both sides. I was worried about getting robbed, etcetra. So, I went into the door, expecting a big office with lots of people…logical, as how could there only be one 20 year old official at a border crossing?

Once I walked in, I was on guard. The official kept looking at me, asking if I had dollars. Just at that moment, Moira returned, knocked on the door and came in-apparently the bank had closed. We had no choice but to pay the fee in limpieras. After changing the money with a money changer, we walked to parked bus, found out it was going to the next stop we needed, and got on immediately. It was afirst class bus and already had people waiting on it, all who who pretty friendly and nice. We just sat there in wonder and amazement at the whole experience we had just gone thru…

I think it was strange it was such a mix of luck (Antonio, the cowboy) and absolutely scary…that it was weird when we were just sitting there in the bus, kind of reeling from the experience. I think if we had been two men traveling it would have been a totally different experience. But, in a strange way, I’m glad it happened, because I’ve got more of an idea of what to expect and what action to take in a similiar situation in the future.

But I would still suggest to women to take the El Florido border crossing if they are going into Honduras from Guatemala! I’ll be leaving thru the Corinto border crossing back into Guatemala, so I’ll let you know how that goes….

gg

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