Kate and I have both recently read The Road, by (ive forgotten his name but its very good) the man who wrote no country for old men, about a post apocalyptic world where a man and his small companion journey from desolate town to desolate town clutching at their backpacks which contain their only possessions for fear they would be stolen. This is what the past few days, journeying from horrible transport hub towns has felt like! But we have the goal of reaching C...

This was our third central american capital, and they seem to be getting worse. We always manage, despite our best efforts, to arrive just as its getting dark, which as all safety information (and instincts) tell you, is the wrong time to arrive. There isnt much need for this blog other than to inform you that the scallies in Manchester who offer to ´watch your car for a fiver mate´ seem to have ventured over here and taught the scary gangster boys a thing or...