Latin American border crossings have something of a reputation amongst travellers that I don’t feel is entirely justified. There are so many scare stories of corruption, bribery, theft, kidnap and gruesome death at the hands of barbarous gangs, you would think no one could possibly get through alive and that international trade must surely be an impossibility.
I had time to mull this over as I waited patiently under the scorching sun at the border post between Guatemala and Honduras. Nobody tried to rob me, but then perhaps I didn’t look like profitable enterprise…
…Of course the child within was petrified, but the process of getting myself and then Peggy my Aprilia out of one country and into the next, meant that I could at least look as though I was busy and knew what I was doing, which no doubt helped avoid a kidnapping.
… so I had a metaphorical spring in my step as I rode away from violent Guatemala and into Honduras, the original ‘banana republic’, with its altogether better reputation.
