That was a long day. I really tried to be optimistic about the border crossings but they were difficult. Getting out of El Salvador was easy enough. I got there early, passed a huge line of trucks on my way to the Auduna. Several guards directed me to the right parking lot and to the correct office. I was the only one there so it didn't take long and I was cleared to leave. Another guard drew me a map on a note pad as to how to cross into Honduras. That was nice because it was counter intuitive. I could see a brand new bridge from where we were standing but I actually had to back track a bit, go around a hill and cross the old bridge into Honduras. Arriving in Honduras is where my day started getting challenging. Nothing was marked, there were no uniformed guards to direct me. I was flagged down by a man wearing an official looking white shirt, blue slacks and laminated ID badge around his neck. He introduced himself as Hector and said he would help me. I knew that he was a border "helper" which is someone who assists at the border crossing for a commission or tip. I didn't really want that but I was having difficulty finding my own way so I agreed. I thought it might be an interesting experience. On the up side, Hector did help me by putting me in the right lines to collect the appropriate stamps. He helped me get copies of the documents I needed here and for my exit into Nicaragua. It was pretty time efficient taking only 1.5 hours to clear this border. On the down side. I'm pretty sure I paid for some things I didn't need and of course the demanded "tip" was more than I wanted to pay. I rode away thinking... okay, lesson learned. Don't do that again. It was only about a two hour ride across Honduras which was really beautiful. The low lands were abundantly green grasslands with several volcanic peaks poking up all around. I got stopped at a military checkpoint which was unusual. So far I had always been waved through these checkpoints. In a text book example of good-cop, bad-cop I was stopped by a pair of soldiers. The first soldier was a short but stout young man dressed in black fatigues, a black baseball cap, wrap-around orange mirrored sunglasses and was armed with an assault rifle slung across his chest. He demanded my documents for the bike which I produced. He demanded my passport which I also produced. He asked me something about my luggage which I didn't understand. I asked him to please repeat what he had said but slower. He didn't. He raised his voice and said it again... maybe even faster. I still didn't understand. Fortunately his partner, very tall woman who was also dressing in black fatigues, a black béret, body armor, dark-tinted John Lennon sunglasses and armed with a pistol-grip shotgun (the Honduran version of Lara Croft). She asked me in English "where are you going?. I told her. She said "you have really pretty eyes"... she motioned with her hand "you can go". I laughed and said thank you as I dropped the clutch and sped off. Exiting Honduras and entering Nicaragua were both very confusing borders. There were so many steps to the process including Tiggrr being sprayed down with weed killer which smelled really bad and is probably slowly eating through my drive train as I sit here writing this. I had to pay $15 for that privilege. Another step required me to completely unload the bike and haul all of my gear into an office where it was inspected and x-rayed. I had to pay for that too. Even when I thought I was done and finally in Nicaragua there was one last check point in which I had to purchase liability insurance $12. While I was waiting for that paperwork three little girls came over to try to sell me some chocolates that I didn't want. They didn't have any problems understanding my Spanish (nor I theirs) and were delighted to chat with me. Just to make the border fleecing complete I ended up buying their chocolate. They at least said thank you. Rolling away from the Nicaraguan boarder I was buzzing with anxiety and overstimulation. The two border crossing had cost me about $200USD total! Not the end of the world but not my best travel day either. The problem is that these are very poor counties and unfortunately a solo traveler like myself is an easy target. Without any signage or recognizable border procedure it is very difficult to know if you are being legitimately charged for something. I wasn't the only one. There was a man from Guatemala that was in line with me and he was having the same difficulties. I just hope that some of that money goes to someone's family who needs it. Anyway, the border behind me I proceeded into Nicaragua. It too was just delightful to ride through. So green and lush. Almost immediately I picked up on a change in the traffic culture. Where in Guatamala, El Salvador and Honduras there was no apparent speed limit, in Nicaragua people religiously followed the 80kph (48mph) speed limit and I did not see motorbikes lane splitting. Nicaragua has few roads so there was a lot of traffic on the highway I was following, especially heavy trucks. Nothing to do but settle into the pace and go with it. After a while I thought... you know... it's a lot less stressful riding at this speed (it just takes forever getting anywhere... Ha). Riding into Managua, I was impressed with how nice it looked positioned on a huge lake. It is a very green city with tree lined roads and lots of parks. My GPS got creative in trying to route me to my hotel and I started to ride through some neighborhoods that made me a little uncomfortable. At one point my GPS directed me to ride up a steep unpaved road. Nope. I hesitated to try to find a way around and a young man on a small motorbike rolled up next to me. He said in Spanish. "You're lost. Let me help you." I showed him on my phone where I was trying to go and he gave me some simple directions to get me back onto a major road. About ten minutes later I arrived at my hotel. The hotel manager helped me unload the bike. He had never met an overland biker before. He could not believe I had ridden from the US to here. I could hear him relaying the story to his wife later. When I asked about a restaurant he said he could help me order something to be delivered. He said. How about a pizza?! That sounds perfect!