Day 15 Jan 2

"Are we done? Are we really ever done?
My gracious host had opened the gates for me before sunrise and I got to the frontier (border) about 6AM. I dropped off my Vehicle permit and went to find the aduana for my exit stamps on my visa. The line waiting for passport stamps was 500 meters long and 4 people wide. Secondary lines were forming at the back and side doors to the building that housed the officials that stamped your passport.

These are pictures trying to depict the length of the lines at the Nicaragua border just to exit!

I parked the bike near the building thinking I would see it again as the line shortened. It was still in the morning and the temperature was down around 80 degrees Fahrenheit. That didn't last long, the heat rose and the line tripled in length. Around ten O'clock I was very close to the building and had gotten to know the people in line with me a little. There was a camaraderie that comes with suffering heat. No water, no shade, slower than a waiting line to a ride at Disney Land. I should have used my cable lock to secure my jacket and helmet to the bike and stood in line with less gear, I did not know it would take an eternity. The black whole of Calcutta comes to mind, people were passing out in line and there family or travel companions would get them to shade and water. If you were alone you lost your place in line. Reminded me of the military parade ground, standing at attention with a few of the guys passing out and being carried off, you just closed ranks and hoped you were not next. I finally made it into the building and thought this will be a relief, NOT, asshole to belly button for another 45 minutes to get to a table where the stamper was.
I made it through and was on my way to Costa Rica customs, the lines there were longer. On the way to the cluster of buildings that house the agents I need I was delayed by a station with a pressure washer. I was reluctant to let them pressure wash my bike but they were insistent and I relinquished when I realized it was a contamination station. They were fumigating any wheels that had touch Nicaraguan soil. bad blood between these borders. I was approached by a young man (a leach) about him assisting me with the crossing, he seemed different because he could not speak, he had no tongue. With pencil and paper he wrote he was sure he could make it easier. We haggled a little on price and settled at 20$ US, payable only if I was satisfied.He took me to a back door and led me through the police offices and strait to the aduano and my passport was stamped entrada. Two doors down was the Insurance agent that sold me minimum coverage for 90 days for 20$ US. We then walked a block away to the vehicle permit lady and 5$ later I was legal for Costa Rica. One Hour, the first border leach that had done what he said and he couldn't say it.
I had previous experience with Costa Rica and felt a lot more comfortable than I had since Salvador. I stopped and got some Colonies from an ATM. It was only a few hours south and I would be in a safe haven with freinds. Liberia and Punt arenas passed by and I was getting close to the end of this leg of the trip.
Thirty Klicks out of Jaco on the crest of a hill three lanes wide , the traffic had slowed and the left and right lanes were traveling about 30MPH the center lane was free and I was doing about 55. I tried to shoot the gap between a bus on the right and an SUV on the left and when I was fully committed the bus driver jerked the wheel to his left and put the pinch on me. I braked hard and had the left handle hand grip touch the side of the SUV. The contact put me into a into a violent tank slapper I was sure I was down but the KLR snapped to attention and I held slight throttle on till I had clearance to down shift and accelerate past the bus on the right. I thanked him appropriately and sped on. Five thousand plus miles and I almost bought it 30 klicks from safe haven.
Jaco produced a  a fine reunion and much needed rest..