Road Warrior

Viewing the traffic on the San Juan del Sur to Rivas road from a distance, you might wonder if the local drivers are in the habit of dropping a lid of acid before climbing behind the wheel. The cars appear to be weaving erratically across both lanes and both shoulders, slowing and accelerating at random intervals. Only if you were up close would you see that the road is actually a minefield of potholes, some deep enough to break an axle, through which the cars must thread their way.

I made the journey in a 'taxi collectivo' that only leaves when every seat is taken. The trip to Rivas takes forty minutes and costs the equivalent of $1.50. My driver was pushing his little Toyota hard, at some points going along the very outside of the shoulder, engine screaming, with cool disregard for the ten metre drop just beyond the crumbling edge of the asphalt. From the disdainful look I received he seemed to take it a comment on his skills, or perhaps my lack of machismo, when I buckled my seatbelt. The next ten kilometres were especially rough and everyone in the car, veterans of this trip, rolled up the windows in unison to keep out the billowing clouds of ocher coloured dust rising from the road surface. Once we made it out to the Pan-American Highway and relatively smooth tarmac, I could open my window and let the breeze blast the beads of sweat from my forehead.