Impassable Roads and Impossible Borders.

I was taking the road less traveled on my way to a small border crossing when this photo was taken along the southern shore of Lake Nicaragua as the darkness, I was warned to avoid, descended. It all had a familiar ring, the road began in good repair but quickly fell to shambles. After about 20 miles of dirt, rock and watery bridges, traveled more by hoof than tire, I came to a muddy work site where there was no passing. The water was far too deep. So, I returned to the main road, parting the occasional herd of cattle and even a ceremony honoring St. Maria which had spilled into the street(?). Once arriving at the primary border crossing into Costa Rica I hired a fixer to arrange the mountains of paperwork entailed in bridging Central American countries, however, unlike previous times, this guy quit after getting me exit from Nicaragua, telling me he couldn't enter Costa Rica. It was 9 pm and the migration office was open but everything else on the Costa Rican side looked to be closed, I got my passport stamped and continued on. At the border exit I was asked for my motorcycle permit which I didn't have. The gentleman pointed me to an out of the way building where once arriving I was told of everything I needed to obtain my permit, I was instructed to return to the migration building to purchase insurance. I told the woman that everything in that building other than the migration office was closed to which she replied, "is open till ten". I returned to find that the insurance salesman had indeed left early. Back on the bike I once again searched out the permit dispensing lady. She informed me that I couldn't get the paperwork till I bought local insurance and I would have to wait till tomorrow. I posed the question of why exactly they were open if they couldn't perform their tasks do to the lack of available insurance, an answer wasn't forth coming. I told her to enjoy her night in bed and departed. After loading my motorcycle I headed for the border exit and as the police man approached to check the permit, I gassed it! The roads here are nice, reflectors on the lines and all, I made haste and blew by the first police checkpoint before they could aptly respond(about10 miles inside the border), at the second of these though they were lying in wait and federali's had canvased the road. I came to a complete stop and rather that shooting or beating me they told me to return to the border. On my way back I passed a gated hotel and took a room to rest my weary bones (far better than laying on asphalt next to overworked Macks and Kenworths).
        That was last night, once I finish this post, I'm back to the border to finish the pain that is a Central American border crossing and will hopefully spend the night in San Jose.