We left La Fortuna for the border about noon and made it about 5pm. Other than Mexico and a few small borders in Eastern Europe, I don’t remember a time I had to cross a major border in a far off land. It’s an experience in itself. I would have published pictures for your entertainment but I remember that in Sudan taking pictures of anything official is a big no-no so I figured I’d play it safe in Nicaragua. (Granted, I secretly wouldn’t mind a trip to jail in a foreign place so I can get on the tv show, Locked up Abroad, and tell a good blog story, but I won’t openly seek it.)

We arrived at the border and exited our taxi and were immediately welcomed by a friendly Nica bloak who wanted to assist us through the process and taxi us to our next destination. When making decisions on what to do in this situation, my rule is generally simple in that I allow him to work his magic at his own discretion, giving no indication of reciprocation until I believe he is worth the effort. In this case our friend was great.

Most people cross this border in buses or cars, which have specific exit and entry steps that they’re headed through. On foot it’s a whole other beast and we felt that having Jose (his name) show us exactly where to go, what to fill out, how to pay, etc was a real benefit to our stress level, which tends to accentuate when your hot, lost, confused, luggage-strained and on high alert.

To give you an idea of this border crossing, 18-wheeler trucks were lined and parked for what seemed like miles back. I can only imagine what that bureaucracy entails. Cars were basically the same. Kids, animals, vendors, and general chaos ensued through the whole hot and dusty procession of exiting CR and then walking the 100 meters to the Nicaraguan entry side. There were no lines or signs of direction, only people, lots of people, many of whom were looking worn.

Jose navigated us to the remotest of buildings and processed us through, even spotting us the cash to enter. He snapped fingers at people and they brought receipts, he carried our luggage, and then piled us into his little souped up taxi car and drove us to San Juan Del Sur. We paid $30 a piece to minimize and efficiently navigate this whole process, including taxi fare to a town 45km away, and collectively agreed life was good.