Posts Tagged ‘border crossings’

Borders, borders everywhere

23 May 2011

Last I wrote, I was in Granada, Nicaragua. The following day, I drove to Las Peñitas to stay for a day with Chris Dray and Yami Torrens. Yukoners will remember Chris as the former Director of the Arts Centre as well as the founder of the Guild way back when. Anyway, Chris wanted to do this real estate development close to the Pacific beach in Nicaragua, but the bottom fell out of the market with the 2009 depression. He is now farming, raising cattle while Yami is going to veterinary school.

View of the Pacific from Chris & Yami's place

Ah Honduras! A place to avoid if at all possible until the country gets its shit together: the highest murder rate in the world, one of the highest crime rates, an illegitimate government elected after a coup, and the most crooked police force I have ever encountered. Actually our first trip was sort of OK, although we did have issues with a tramite (border helper) who wanted us to get involved in all kinds of shady deals and would not leave us alone in Copán, and police who tried unsuccessfully to shake us down. This time, though I was shaken down twice by the police (the cops extorted $75 from me). I bitched about Panamanians being dishonest, but Hondurans will just steal from you. At least Panamanians try to use their wiles and not just intimidation.

Actually, the first tramite who helped across from Nicaragua to Honduras, Gustavo, seemed like a good guy; I even tipped him $10 more than the $10 he originally asked for. At least he got me into an air conditioned office while the Honduran customs officer took her time to take her finger out of her arse to fill out a simple form. She was actually quite pleasant, but spent a lot more time chatting with Gustavo and others and talking on her cell phone than working. Gustavo told me his dream was to go to Canada; he even lived in Minnesota for awhile because it was the closer. He tried getting in, but Canadian immigration wouldn’t, although they did not report him to the US “Migra“. He did eventually get deported from the US.

Before hiring Gustavo, I went through the Nicaraguan exit processes on my own. First wait in line for half an hour until the Nicaraguan customs officer deigned to look at my temporary vehicle importation permit, stamp if a few times and told me to go to immigration. At least I got to chat with a couple of truck drivers. They told me they usually have to wait about 12 hours to get through Costa Rican Customs. But once in Nicaragua, they can easily get into the other Central American countries (Honduras, El Salvador, Guatemala) who sort of have a common customs and immigration process. However, as a foreigner, I do have to get a separate importation permit in each country for the pick-up and I also get my passport stamped by immigration. You get a total of 90 days for all four countries, so by the time I got to Guatemala, I only had 84 days left.

Line-up of trucks waiting to get into Nicaragua at Costa Rica border

At immigration, everyone was waiting at one window while the other one was open, until someone asked if we could go to it. I let the guy who had been in front of me go ahead before me at the second window even though he got there after me. I told him that I was from Canada where queues are sacred. He laughed saying that was not exactly the case in Nicaragua and we had a good chat.

The next border was from Honduras to el Salvador. I won’t say anything about my tramite because I would not want him to get in trouble. First the cop–whose name is , according to my tramite — extorted $40.00 from me because I did not have a “title” for the truck, even though I told him how come they let me in the country. He threatened to do a thorough inspection on my vehicle, which would have probably taken hours. My tramite suggested I bribe him $50.00, and then $40.00. So the cop let me go.

At the border, I let the tramite take my passport and go make copies. He told me he needed $15.00 and I gave him a $20 bill. I think it was a mistake not to go with him, but anyway, he gave me back my change. He later asked me for another $15 to pay for something or other. Anyway, go with your tramite when you are crossing the border, you will feel more comfortable that he is not ripping you off.

Then we needed to go to immigration, pay $12.00 for fumigation which did not happen. I don’t mind the fumigation at the borders: it is there to protect their agricultural industries on which these countries depend so much. We do that in Canada when you leave Newfoundland, which has a potato wart disease not present in the potato growing regions of New Brunswick and Prince Edward Island.

Anyway, we got to the border where there was a Honduran tourism department survey. They asked me how much I spent. I said: “$100.00. No, make that $175 including $75 in tips to the police.” The policeman next to the survey taker just smiled. Arsehole!!

Off to El Salvador, where the procedure was the usual: immigration to get my tourist stamp and then to Customs to get the vehicle importation permit. So I had to go down the hill, waiting outside in the heat where a customs officer finally deigned to look at my vehicle. He got quite friendly after I started talking to him and showed him the truck. He gave me a 60 days importation permit and we had a good chat. However, there was a mistake in the permit: he forgot to put the expiry date so he had to get his boss to approve him printing out another form. One last check on the border and I am on my way to San Salvador to the hotel I had reserved. I hand the tramite the $20.00 and he tells me he needs another $12.00 for the fumigation, which he says he had told me about earlier. I vaguely remembered him mentioning that and did not want to argue, so I gave it to him. Just inside El Salvador, I stop at a store to buy something to drink. A guy calls out to me and says my tramite had promised that I would give him a tip. I told him he did not. he insisted he did, so I told him that the tramite had lied to him and basically told him to fuck off.

The next day to Guatemala, I didn’t think I really needed a tramite, but I got one anyway. Procedure was quite simple in leaving El Salvador: Immigration for the passport stamp and Customs to hand in my importation permit. I do get a tramite, but this time I stick with him. The procedure is also OK in Guatemala: First immigration where they give me 84 days (of the original 90s I got in Nicaragua). Then to the SAT office—Superintendencia de Administración Tributaria, i.e. Department of Revenue or Finance. First hand in all the vehicle permits, then they give me a bill (160 Quetzales or about $20.00) for the vehicle permit, which is for 90 days. The amount surprises my tramite as it is usually less. On the other hand, according to what I have read on the web, the amount seems to be at the whim of the customs office. Not that htere is any corruption involved as everything is receipted and has to go through three hand. The across to the bank office where I pay it, then take the receipt across to yet another window where they hand me a sticker for my windshield.

I then drive to Antigua where I stay at the hotel Entre Volcanes and also give a call to Philip Wilson who kindly hosted my truck in his organic coffee farm last year. It’s nice to be among friends again. I also buy a piece of cloth to be used for our bedstead in Whitehorse. The next day off to Huehuetenango not far from the Mexican border. I am really dreading the border again, especially since I suspect we did not hand in or vehicle importation permit when we left Mexico for Belize in January 2010. Anyway, I know I don’t need a tramite at this border: the Mexicans frown upon it.

At the Guatemalan immigration, one of the agents asks me how to say “I am going to Mexico” in French. It turns out he has relatives in Montreal and has visited the city (where I was born & grew up, for those who don’t know). We had a little chat about Montreal. Then to the SAT office where I ask advice about what to do with my permit. I can chose to either hand it in, in which I cannot go back to Guatemala with the vehicle for another 90 days, or I can suspend it and go back anytime before it expires. There is no penalty or anything if I just let it expire without going back. No problem, so I suspend the permit just in case they do not let me into Mexico.

First Mexico immigration, fill out the card and get my 6-month tourist visa. Then to the Banjercito office to get a temporary vehicle importation permit. I tell the agent about having entered Mexico in December 2009 and leaving the following January. He looks at my truck registration which says that the vehicle capacity is 3,900 kilograms. He tells me that his records show I did not hand in my permit. I have a vague memory of talking with to a guy with a white t-shirt at the Belize border about it. Anyway, he tells me the real problem is the weight of the vehicle; the limit is no more than 3.5 tonnes.

He asks me what kind of vehicle; I tell him a normal pick-up with a camper. He looks at the truck and says that it is a small vehicle. He asks me if it could be in pounds rather than kilos, I do answer honestly that we have been using kilos for 30 years in Canada. He tells me he has to call his boss to see if he can give me a permit. I wait for about an hour in the heat; go get the required photocopies made. Finally, I go back in and he is on the phone. He smiles at me, takes my credit card ($30.00 or so) and gives me the permit and the sticker for the windshield. I suspect the wait was actually a slap on the wrist for not turning in my previous importation permit. I then go to the customs officer and ask him if he wants to see my truck. He takes a cursory look in and tells me everything is fine.

I have to say that I did not run into corrupt customs officers nor did I have to pay any bribes or tips to speed things up. The process was slow and bureaucratic and inefficient, but not corrupt, unlike the Panamanian customs in the middle of the country or the Honduran extortionist cops. The only time they checked my luggage was when I was leaving Panama, and they would only take a cursory look inside the camper.

Then into México, Chiapas State to be precise. Although Chiapas is the poorest state in Mexico, it is obviously so much more prosperous than Guatemala. That night in San Cristobál de las Casa where I finally find the San Nicholas RV Park after asking for directions and driving around the really narrow streets of the historic centre. Mexico has great roads, but you don’t want to be driving an extended-cab-long-box pick-up with a camper in the older parts of most towns, no more than you would want to do it in Vieux Québec, Old Montreal or the older parts of Boston or Philly. Unlike Central America, there are lots of real pick-ups in Mexico and few rice-burners, probably fewer than in Canada. But then gas is still less that $1.00 a litre for super. The next day a long drive to Córdoba in Veracruz state and yesterday yet another longer drive to Guadalajara, Mexico’s second largest city. Tomorrow to Melaque, park the truck at Pam and Bernie Phillips lot and fly out to Vancouver on Wednesday afternoon.

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Borders, Granada and future plans

14 May 2011

Main square and cathedral in Granada

I am now in Granada, Nicaragua. I remember why Marilyn and I ended up staying here eight days instead of the two I had originally planned. It is a beautiful colonial town, with just the right amount of tourist amenities like good hotels and good restaurants and has not yet been overwhelmed by gringos and assorted lowlifes.

Pool inside the Patio del Malinche Hotel

I am staying at the Patio del Malinche Hotel and practicing my Catalan with the owners. I also had yet another great steak at El Zaguan restaurant. Hey, I am staying in the top-rated hotel and eating at the top-rated restaurant according to TripAdvisor. The only downside to Granada is the young girls working as prostitutes in the main square. I was accosted three times when I crossed the square to go to the bank machine on Friday night. Sad!

I crossed two borders in the last three days and was again harassed by the Panamanian customs in Divisa, where I was deported from last time. OK, let’s start the narrative.

After my mud-splattered jaunt to the end of the road, I went back to Panama City for two nights, staying at Pequeño Paraíso B&B with Richard and Anita (TripAdvisor review, but I believe they should be in Panama City listings). I had to fix my winch, and Richard helped me as he is a bit of an electrical whiz. He does run a company installing electric wire fencing (which is not used for cattle in Panama but to shock and awe potential house thieves.)

I had two superb meals on Monday and Tuesday nights. I went to Marina Marina one night and back to Maito for yet another absolutely incredible meal.

Crossing the Centenario bridge in May 2010.

I left Wednesday morning for David in Northern Panama, thinking of going into Costa Rica on Thursday. I got lost on the way, but finally found the new Centenario bridge over the Canal which is now partially open after getting washed out in the floods last December.

Mostly uneventful drive except for the customs guards in Divisa, a nowhere crossroads dorp in the middle of Panama. Last time we passed through there they put us through the wringer, extracted $416 from us and escorted us out of the country.

This time, I did not see any road block, but as I passed by, I heard a shout which I ignored. A few minutes later, a vehicle with flashing lights pulls me over. A guy comes out of the vehicle and I give him a puzzled look. He comes to the window and says “aduana” and says I did not stop when he signalled me. I told him I did not see him, and asked him where he was. He told me, rather vaguely, that he was on the right but that I obviously was concentrating on driving. This is bullshit; there was no one there, they were on the other side of the road, where I heard the shout from. He told me he had to give me a ticket for not stopping, in an obvious attempt to extract a bribe. I told home: “Fine, I’ll pay the ticket, but I did not see you.”

I handed the truck papers, fearing that he would give me a hard time because it said that I would depart from the port of Colón rather than the land border at Paso Canoas. Then his partner shows up, who just happens to be the agent who escorted us out of the country in January. The first guy tells the other that my truck papers are in order. Handshakes and fake smiles all around. F…ing arseholes. Then the first guy says I seem like a good person, so he will let me go. Then he has the effrontery to ask me fro something for a “cafecito“, a little coffee. I answered with a flat “No!” twice. I felt like telling him: “Go get your cafecito from your boss who ripped me off $400 last time.”

I got to David at 4:00PM or so in a diluvial tropical rainstorm and stayed at the Best Western again, not a bad hotel (newly renovated and clean and pretty cheap at $50.00. Supper at the hotel restaurant, a long call to Marilyn to use up the rest of my money on the Panamanian cell phone.

Left David at 8:00AM for the Costa Rica border. The formalities of getting out of Panama were a pain as per usual: get a photocopy, get one stamp here, then get the immigration, the the customs guy wanted to inspect my luggage—this is when I was leaving Panama—and my truck. Like why do they need to check my luggage?? Finally tells me it’s OK, and then tells me to wait again. Then I get the stamp and am finally on my way. Then to the Costa Rican side, where somebody tells me I need to get the truck fumigated. So I get it fumigated, go to the customs window to get my temporary vehicle importation permit reactivated. As I wrote earlier, I have two days left of the original 90 days. They tell me I have to go into the office.

So I hand my papers to the Tica customs agent there who checks things out on her computer. It turns out that the computer in San José says that my permit was surrendered, not suspended. So they need to call San José to get permission to reactivate my permit. I wait, getting more and more impatiently, for some bureaucrat in San José to take his finger out of his arse and deal with my case.

I walk around the customs area, and get a charge card for my cell phone as I have now put the Costa Rican chip back in it. I had to put more money in as they said my balance had expired. I have a hard time putting in additional money in as they changed the number you call. Anyway, I add $10.00 worth of time and I find out I now have a $26 balance on my cell phone. So I now have a couple of hours calling time with Marilyn.

After three hours, the Customs agent tells me my papers are OK. I am all smiles and we go to my vehicle with the agricultural inspection agent who needs to inspect my vehicle and see the proof of fumigation. I had been chatting with the guy for a couple of hours about agriculture and his work and animal diseases.

It is now almost noon as Costa Rica is one hour behind (after?? I can never get this straight) Panama. So I hightail it to Liberia, which is seven hours away. Along the way, I stop for ceviche at Ceviche Remy, owned by a Canadian. The ceviche was OK. The I stop in Uvita at a restaurant to check my email.

I get to Liberia after dark, which is not good. I tried following a big truck for quite a while after sundown, but the interior of my windshield is dirty and I get blinded every time a car crosses me. I stop and try to clean the windshield to no avail. So I slowly make my way to Liberia where I stay once again at El Punto Hotel. I had a magnificent meal at Ozaki Peruvian-Japanese fusion restaurant.

The next morning I leave rather late after a couple of hours chat with Mariana, the owner of El Punto who is also an architect. We talked mainly about construction in our respective countries. She is familiar with US construction methods as she studied architecture in Texas, I believe. $600.00 square metre to build a simple concrete and block house in Costa Rica compared to $2,000.00 in the Yukon for our standard wood frame construction.

I get to the border just before noon, where this guy tries to help me. He tells me to go to customs. I tell him I don’t need anybody to help me out of Costa Rica, but I will need someone to get me through Nicaraguan customs. He tells me I need a photocopy, I say no. of course he is right. Anyway he introduces me to his buddy Fabel (sp.?) who proves to be a godsend. Anyway , I give him 5,000 Colones and exchange some dollars for Nicaraguan Córdobas.

I agree on $20.00 for Fabel. I hate it when they say give me what you want, or give me a tip. Tell me how much you want from your service up front and I will give you a tip if you give me great service. And they are necessary at some border; actually at most borders in Central America.

So to get into Nicaragua, the steps Fabel guided me through were:

  1. Fumigation
  2. Go to Migración (immigration) and pay $US12.00 for my tourist visa.
  3. Then go to a tourist office for a stamp for $5.00
  4. Then get the insurance for the vehicle $12.00
  5. Then grab a customs agent to check my vehicle
  6. Then Fabel runs to a policeman just before he goes to lunch so he can sign piece of paper (we would had to wait for another hour otherwise)
  7. Then to another Aduana window, free this time, to get my temporary vehicle importation permit. Except we had to wait for half an hour while the officials had lunch and read their paper.
  8. Then another 15 minute wait at the window next door to get the police to check my papers.
  9. Then at the gate pay $1.00 to one guy, get another to check some of paperwork, and hand over s slip of paper saying that I went through the process to a third.
  10. Get out of the gate on the highway and pay Fabel his well earned $20.00 and a $5.00 tip.

But before the gate, I went & got a Nicaraguan cell phone chip. Fabel and this other guy had had a spirited discussion about whether Claro or Movistar provided the best service. I commented it was rather like sports fans: Real Madrid vs. Barcelona (i.e. Leafs vs Habs in a Canadian context). They laughed, but being both Barça fans, they each claimed that their favoured cell phone provider was like Barcelona ad the other was Madrid. Nicaraguans are also baseball fans, but I could not think of an equivalent baseball rivalry.

I also made a decision about what to do. I am going to Mexico and leaving the pickup truck there. It’s no problem getting a six month permit in Mexico and there are no penalties for leaving a Canadian vehicle there longer. I just need to find a place where, preferably in Oaxaca state, but anywhere in Mexico is fine. So, gentle reader, I would appreciate any suggestions or connections you might have in Mexico that could house my truck until this winter.

Do you know the way to San José?

28 April 2011

This is not about Dionne Warwick’s original San José in California, but the Tico version, which I think is older. I must really know the way to San José, as this is the third time I go there: the first with the pick-up, the second in a rental car and now by plane from TO.

Anyway, there must be a bazillion San Jose/Joseph/Giuseppe/Josep throughout the Western world. I have a special affinity for Saint Joseph (as did my cabinetmaker/carpenter father), as he was a carpenter and the patron saint of woodworkers. When my mother broke her arm falling down on a step in Saint Joseph’s Oratory in Montreal, my father cautioned her that she should to obey him more as next time Saint Joseph, listening to the prayers of his fellow woodworker in solidarity, might do worse. I think my mother’s response to that, in Italian of course, had something to do with doing something in the nether end of my father’s intestinal tract. Those who know at all anything about the Italian language will understand exactly what I mean.

Enough digression about Saint Joseph, whose feast day (March 19, a holiday in Italy, as it should be in the rest of the world to celebrate all the wonderful things wooddorkers have done for humanity. (Christians should remember that God was a carpenter and should abstain from buying termite puke furniture made by Chaiwanese—not that there is anything wrong with traditional Chinese cabinetry and joinery, it’s pretty amazing craftsmanship, just the modern export “quality” crap—and Southern US slave labour factories and order it from their local cabinetmaker/carpenter.) We “celebrated” Saint Joseph’s feast day by eating spaghetti with breadcrumbs and walnuts, salt fish, and oranges slices with garlic and salt.

The first time on the way to San José was driving from Panama. Marilyn keeps a diary and here is faithful reproduction of my reading the diary using the Nuance Dragon Naturallyspeaking speech recognition software:

On the way to San Jose. On February 2 we were kicked out of and in and of funding the hotel just outside of Sudan anda, in Costa Ricana0. A rooster woke us when we were sure ready for breakfast in town after no dinner. The February. If you go down A to send Ysidro and hang out. After a good faith we hit the highway with Marilyn and I stating the driving countryside was glorious. Lots of comfort we felt comfortable driving the River Valley we’ve seen before in rainy conditions. He turned left towards sudden seasonal and son José instead of right for somebody and Wilson conical. Is the ongoing physical central period of Sunday’s seasonal and opinion. We caught this on a seasonal and part next to the Cathedral and walk in the park. There was a funeral going on in the Cathedral and we found a funding are. We had lunch salad for Marilyn and are there and Luigi have taken special needs loan so the the main salsa. Copies special coffees are good as was the son. A we were looking for tell, the something or other. We ran into a guy, so you and your e-mail was running towards him, Costa Rica and was involved in coffee growing and in C- to a different hotel than the one we were going to which was Schieffer and equally as. The vessel also successfully parking lot which was next to a really interesting farmers market … Again I might suffer from chronic queen-size futon, she’s.

I can’t figure out that gibberish either, as I don’t have the diary in front of me. The software either needs a lot more training or it is garbage. I did spend many hours reading into the software and training it last November/December when I was laid up in the hospital with a serious leg infection, but it still doesn’t understand me. Might be the remains of my French-Canadian/Italian accent, but I though I had lost most of it. It does seems to work well for my good friend and former gentle-innocent-forest-creature-murdering and still current wine-making partner Rick Buchan, but he’s a lawyer and probably the software was afraid of a lawsuit if it didn’t work. Rick is a really good lawyer and actually won a case before the Supreme Court of Canada—we’re not talking about your average ambulance chaser here.

Maybe I can summarize it. After getting kicked out of Panama, we stayed in Ciudad Neily and then San Isidro where we met Roberto Hernandez of MTTCR. Then we headed to San Jose on February 5th to meet Lars for the weekend. We stayed with Lars until Monday. I did manage to damage Lars’ roof with the camper as I got way too close to it. Lars was not happy and I spent a sleepless night worrying about it. Anyway, Lars found a good carpenter/cabinet maker who had no problem repairing it. I also got the carpenter to make me new steps for the camper, as the old ones were getting rather wobbly and were showing sings of rot. We had a couple of good meals, with Lars and Keny, his Mayan colaboradora (Tico word au-pair girl) for first at an Argentinean restaurant (excellent pickled beef tongue and steak) and then at an Italian one the next day. We tried going to the Museums on the Monday after the carpenter and his finisher buddy finished, but we got there too late. We had to content ourselves with wonderful churros in the main square in San Jose. We then headed out to Puerto Viejo de Sarapiqui.

The second time in San Jose was when we were leaving on March 15. We rented a car in San Isidro which Roberto was to bring back. We headed out to San José on March 14 and visited the Jade and the Gold museums. Both with a lot of pre-Columbian First Nation art, quite interesting ad well worth the visit. We also visited the currency museum: reiterating the origins of all our American currencies, dollars, pesos and all their local variations an permutations, including the Costa Rican Colon—renamed from Peso in the late 19th Century— and the Spanish Peseta and now the Euro, all come from the original Spanish Peso, mined and minted in Mexico, Bolivia and Peru from the 16th to the early 19th centuries.

This time, the plan is to retrieve the truck & camper, head immediately to Panama to Santa Clara RV park. My temporary importation permit expires on April 30th and I need to get the truck out of the country. In Panama, I hope to figure out ways of shipping the truck to South America. If that does not work, then back to Nicaragua and visiting Chris again.