05 October 2017

Internet Tomorrow or The Story of Guatemala

At the Guatemalan border, a man asked if he could take a picture of the bike. I said of course, then he put his darling little girl on the seat, and I needed a picture as well.

Update to the last post: It is now four days after the wet hair/pillow thing. I'm guessing four more before the pillow dries out...

So, we left Palenque, Chiapas, Mexico, and headed for the border at El Ceibo. We rolled up and parked at the Mexican side, and boom, boom, boom, we were done and in Guatemala.

Oh, wait. Nope. That is NOT how it happened.

We rode up to the border and slowly made our way through the massive complex, not really seeing where to go. It is totally obvious if you're coming into Mexico from Guatemala, but not the other way. Finally, a couple of dudes in uniform, eating snacks and drinking sodas, waved us over to some parking. We grabbed all the paperwork and as we walked up, the "official" passport dude walked out. He asked for the passports, looked at mine, and asked me what day I entered Mexico.

I wasn't expecting that, so I thought back and said I thought it was the fourth, or maybe the fifth...?

And he said, "We have a problem here."

Oh god! I really didn't want to have a problem with Mexico and Mexican officials. I really like the country, and all the people, and I totally get why they probably don't like us very much right now. And...I'm pretty sure I've already witnessed government officials choosing to do nothing to help Americans out when they were stuck, due to their being pissed at us. So, I really didn't want there to be a problem...

He showed me my passport stamp, and I saw the problem. It didn't say 4 or 5 on the date, it was stuck somewhere between 12-13 or 13-14... It was hard to tell what the second numbers were. And then I remembered how we actually entered Mexico on the twelfth the second time. Yeah...that's still a story for another time.

He went inside, told us to wait, and then I'm sure they checked shit out. In the end, it was fine. We finished with him and went on to deal with getting our temporary import deposits back on the bikes, and were done in no time.

We loaded up, and rode on to Guatemala.

We went into the migration office, and in under two minutes, were done, stamped, and officially in Guatemala. Next, we had to go to the Aduana office to deal with the bikes. The guy there told us everything we needed copies of, and we walked the block to the store where we could make copies. While I had the copies done, Josh changed money so we had no more pesos, but a wad of quetzales instead. We also bought sodas, carrying on the tradition of our dear friends Carl and Jonnie, who would buy celebratory sodas each time they got through a border.

As we were walking back to the Aduana, I said, "When all is said and done, this was pretty painless."

We got to the Aduana office, handed the guy the copies, and he neatly divided them up into the appropriate stacks, nodding that all was there.

Then he said, "We have a problem."

Oh god, what?

"No internet." And he totally smiled while saying it.

As the whole conversation we had was in Spanish, I turned to Josh and said, in a rather sarcastic tone of voice, "They have no internet."

We tried to figure out how long this might last, and he just shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and said he didn't know. Could be thirty minutes, could be all day....

Uh huh, right. I told him we would wait, and I asked for the papers. As he started to hand them back to me, he asked if the plate numbers were on the copies of the title. I said no, so he walked outside to write them on. Then he handed them to me.

So, we sat, and waited, and finished those stupid sodas we bought too early! In all honesty, we bought them because we were hot and thirsty. And, WE were allowed in the country, just not our bikes.

While we waited, the fumigation guy came over, wrote our plates down, and said they'd be ready for us when we were done with the Aduana. Because, you know, bugs from Mexico only cross into Guatemala by hitching rides on vehicles. They totally stop at the border otherwise....

And we waited. Then I said to Josh this might be a made-up problem. We hadn't heard any stories of corruption at this border crossing--except for one guy who said the Mexican side had been corrupt (I have to add here that the guy who made that claim on iOverlander seems to find everything in traveling life a complete trial, and thinks everyone in other countries is corrupt, while he does stupid shit like try to cross borders ar night. He's just an ass, so I ignore most of what he has to say)--but I wondered if maybe this was a new guy, or someone who thought he'd try something underhanded out.

We went back inside, and he immediately smiled, shook his head, and said it was still down. Josh asked what would make the Internet come back. He shook his head and said he didn't know. Josh asked if it...needed money...to come back, and I had 100Q in my hand and asked him to look again. He looked and said no. Eventually he made a comment about needing an antenna that worked better--or something to that effect. He wasn't looking for a bribe, the Internet was just down. Thankfully, he didn't appear to have been put off by the offer of money from the stupid Americans.

So, we waited, and waited. Eventually, it was getting close to 5pm, and that's when everyone closed up on Sundays. The guy told us we could go into the country on the bikes, stay the night somewhere, and come back in the morning.

There would probably be internet in the morning.

We hopped on the bikes, rode through the border town, and went another 27Km to El Naranjo. We found a hotel, stayed the night, and got back right after 8 the next morning.

There was Internet!!

Within about five minutes we were done, and we had to pull up to the fumigation guys.

Really!?! We had just ridden into your country the night before, and back that morning. I'm pretty sure anything hanging onto the bike headed deeper into Guatemala after the bike came to a stop for the night.

Government procedure is government procedure, and must be adhered to. The fumigation guy put on his mask and headed over to the bikes, spraying the wheels. Let me repeat that. He sprayed the wheels. The only part of the bike in constant motion, delivering anything on them to the atmosphere with massive centrifugal force. Sweet. Good job. They got their money--something like $1.50 each bike--and I'm pretty sure he just sprayed it with water.

Anyway, that was it. Fifteen hours after we arrived at the border, we were in! A whole new country, with new people, new places, and new tarantulas!

 

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