Three months around Europe

It is security gone mad

I have now been in Central America for a month. When I first said I was coming here to ride a local bike, there were sharp intakes of breath and comments that I should buy a gun and “learn how to use it “

Admittedly , I have only visited two countries to date but I haven’t felt any real security concerns. The police and military have a strong presence, I tend to stay in at night and only ride during the day.

Having said that : There are an awful lot of weapons here - mainly in the hands of security guards. Everywhere seems to have a security guard. Even a little cake shop, I frequented had two. One inside and the other outside on the pavement. I think that is a bit over the top as it is likely anyone who is going to rob a cake shop will be a fatty and as soon as one gets within cooee of the shop , the guards would have hopefully clocked them. And any way , fatty the crook couldn’t resist having a taster when making their getaway, so they should be easier to capture, with a mouthful of cake and burdened down with two dozen eclairs.

In Guatemala , in a bid to control drive by shootings from bikes , you have to have your helmet and hi viz vest emblazoned with your bike number plate. I have tried to figure out how that will stop the hits. As if criminals who carry out these killings are worried about a minor traffic infringement.

“ Jose, I told you no more drive bys until you get your helmet and vest sorted. Can’t have you breaking the law , can we”

For some reason, motorbikes are the target of military and police roadblocks. Big , swanky SUVS with blackened windows seem to go through with impunity, while the humble motorbike rider is numero uno target.

In my view, I would have thought Mr Big would be more at home in the SUV than the seat of a Chinese made 125. But then I am only a visitor.

Roadblocks are good fun, once you get over being the object of interest by a gun toting , bored 18 year old squaddie. I always give in strict order, my international driving licence, which confuses them no end. Then my passport, which seems to pique their interest and then finally the bike registration. By this time they are all crowding around, black windowed SUVs and pickups whiz past unimpeded as the roadblock squad look at the visas in my passport, ask how much the bike cost and a million other queries.


LIttle Suzi

I have now weakened and given the bike a name. This is purely out of respect for what she has done for me in the last 2000km. She has travelled some atrocious roads, been as frugal as a kid saving for a house deposit and as comfortable as the V strom I ride normally. We cruise at between 60 and 70 km, park anywhere and has proven simple and inexpensive to repair. I broke my clutch and gearshift levers in a fall, bodged some repairs and a 1000 km later the bodges are still going.

EL Tunco to El Cuco

It was a wrench leaving El Tunco after six days. I had a lovely room, met some nice people, caught some waves but it was time to go. I write this from El Cuco at the southern end of El Salvador. It is a lovely beach resort, traditional fishing village and has some great beaches, which I will explore over the next three days. I think the resort I am staying at ($25 a night) is hosting some kind of mariachi band convention , because there is a an awful lot of competing noise up until about 2300 hours and then it starts again at 0800. I am getting to like the music especially some of the more soulful songs involving a dog, pickup and a lost love.

Well I think that is what it is about

Ride safe