Honduras - Laundry mishaps, sand flies, snorkel injuries and trash!

Hola from Bocas del Toro, Panama!!

Much has happened since we last spoke back in Antigua some 23 days prior! This blog has become my nemesis. The whole idea of writing it fills me with unspeakable dread. That said, the alternative - going radio silent - has met with considerable approbation, and a fair deal of filial guilt on my part! So, deep breath... here goes!

Later the night I wrote (September 17th for those with an obsessive eye for detail), I joined the folks at Black Cat Hostel in Antigua for a mustachio party which lasted until 2am. Earlier that evening a raised eyebrow from sensible Roge, who was headed to bed, warned me that the words "don't worry, I'll sleep on the bus" would later come back to haunt me. The party was huge fun, but getting up 2 hours later for a collectivo to Copan... less so.

The bus to the Honduran border was predictably sleepless (due to the bone jarring potholes and madcap driver) but otherwise uneventful. We reached the border on schedule, and were channeled into a no-man's land corridor with 50 or so banana trucks coming from the opposite direction. Most of the vast juggernauts were parked with their engines off, some with hammocks and sleeping drivers slung beneath the undercarriages, suggesting no one was going anywhere fast! A merciless sun cooked us quickly and efficiently as we waited for over an hour for the medieval traffic management to create a gap through which to affect our escape.

When it finally did open up, we sped into the Banana Republic and on tthe beautiful, sleepy town of Copan Ruinas and after checking into a beautiful hotel (Via Via) we walked to the famous Mayan ruins. There we found a flock of tame technicolor macaws, a torrential downpour, a flat camera battery upon reaching the gate (the 5th temple in a row where I had managed to achieve this!), and finally a rather underwhelming set of temples, which upon closer inspection (well, a climb of the highest temple...) yielded the most fabulous view of an oasis of lawn, studded with ruins and surrounded by thousands of acres of rain forest. Overall it was well worth the entrance fee, but a distinct third best to the towering Tikal and Palenque.

The following morning our attempts to leave Copan for La Ceiba (on the Caribbean coast) were hindered, first by the bus office being closed (never leave this last minute... doh!), then by our laundry being held hostage (never do laundry when you need to leave in a hurry... double doh!) and finally by lack of seats on a full bus once the office was open (always pre-book tickets... triple doh!). The bus when we did get it (having ignored touts' clamorous claims that the bus we wanted was broken down miles from the city, and having spent a good hour tracking down the elderly owner of the bus company and walking with him at snail's pace through the sweltering heat back to the shuttered ticket office... phew!) turned out to be a chicken bus of the highest order. The 12 seats were quickly filled, first by 12, then 18, then 24 people etc until it was impossible to count the number of heads, let alone see the floor. We arrived knowing more about our neighbours' eating and sanitary habits than we might have imagined, but largely intact, and with some relief emerged from the scrum and bedded down at the rather rundown and absolutely empty "popular traveller hangout" (thank you Rough Guide!) Banana Republic hostel.

The next day we caught the ferry to Utila in the Bay Islands, the capital of cheap dive courses and Caribbean parties. As we disembarked, the haunting words "say goodbye to your beautiful skin" floated across the breeze.

Puzzled, we checked into the Mango Inn, a beautiful hostel with swimming pool and strict (and sadly oft-ignored) rules on late night partying. We reunited with the Aussie girls, Suli and Lorraine, and the Irish lads, Liam and Lee, and headed for the beach.

Within 5 minutes of setting up camp on the beach, putting on our beach volleyball hats and buying a beer, my legs had erupted with some 50 sand-fly bites. Roger was similarly afflicted. Upon closer inspection our fellow players and folks populating the bar were bleeding from multiple puncture wounds from the waist down - as if they had all repeatedly thrown themselves onto a particularly spiky cactus. This was going to be fun!

Sand-flies aside though (and they were the bane of my very existence!), our time on the island was largely filled with the following activities, events and states of being:

1) Rum and Noise:
We, the Irish and Aussies made so much noise on the first night that fellow hotel guests left early the next morning in disgust. I happened to be sitting in the hotel reception checking my emails when the staff started discussing which guests might be to blame. They seemed to think it was the Irish. Ears burning I hunched over the keyboard not daring to look up! Night number two, the noise reached new proportions thanks to enthusiastic drinking games, excited temperaments and a good deal of singing... and we (mainly the oft-blamed Irish) were first shushed by the night watchman, once we finally answered the knocking on the door, and later told off the following morning (the Irish copped the blame) for "behaving like a bunch of 13 year olds". Night 3 was similarly epic, though we managed to get through the night unscathed and it was with considerable relief that the management checked us out the following morning!

2) Nakedness:
This follows hand in hand with the drinking, but was to become a bit of a theme of the trip!


Self evident really. Chased by the sand-flies I chose immersion in raw sewage and trash over spending any more time on the beach.

4) Epic Snorkel injury:
In a head to head contest with a reef, I emerged from a deep snorkel dive with blood gushing from the top of my head. It was bad, as I dizzily floundered back to the boat trailing clouds of blood in the shark infested water, but you should have seen the reef!

5) Narrowly avoided skirmish and a lost t-shirt:
At one point on the first evening a drunk local staggered up, pointed his finger in my face, and said "get the @#$% away from my women". I was dancing with my two Aussie friends at the time! Somewhat bemused I attempted to clarify what exactly he might mean, before being dragged away by the two Irish lads with the accompanying words, "the locals carry guns and knives and would love an opportunity to use them". I walked back to my chair only to find that my favourite T-shirt from Laos has been lifted - doubtless by the Angry Local - so somewhat mournfully I left the club shirtless but otherwise intact!

6) Abortive Spanish Language Course:
I enthusiastically signed up for a week, knowing that I couldn't reasonably continue butchering the language as badly as I was. Sadly the sand flies chased me off the island 1 day in!

7) Terribly Slow Breakfasts:
Each morning our much needed Breakfast of Champions would take some 2 hours to arrive at the table, by which point we had usually resorted to eating the napkins, flower decorations and any sauce sachets close to hand.

8) Our Ignominious Retreat:

I became increasingly obsessed with escaping the rock, as my 50 itchy bites had become 500, until we were chased off the island three days into our planned week of paradise. Somewhat gleefully we echoed the same "say goodbye to your beautiful skin" warning to a couple of bikini clad girls arriving at the island with perfect smooth tanned legs and not a bite in sight! They looked gratifyingly bemused.

We overnighted in La Ceiba before hopping on a long (4 and half hours became 8) bus to the capital Tegucigalpa. En route I got chatting to a beautiful Honduran model, who amongst other things is "The Face of Barena Beer". Within the space of the journey I had secured an invitation for a night on the town, a great meal (one of the largest and best cooked steaks I have ever eaten), and a lot of (bad on my part, great on hers) salsa dancing. Roger gracefully ducked out and left me to it.

The next day we bused it down to the Nicaraguan border (this time it was smooth sailing) and on to Leon, from whence I will start the next installment of my blog!