Copan Ruins, Honduras

Honduras continued to provide lasting images and experiences. We followed up the stint in paradise with a trip back to Mesoamerica.

I must admit that there were a few stops on our trip that I had eagerly anticipated - Copan was one of them.

As a quick prologue, I would like to write that as a traveller one should always take the advice of a fellow traveller with a grain of salt as they say. We had been advised that since both of us had visited the grand Guatemalan ruins of Tikal, that we would surely be dissapointed with Copan. We were recommended by many to skip them. That would have been a huge mistake.

The Copan ruins are just as breathtaking as those at Chichen Itza and Tikal but for an entirely different reasons. The ornate monuments of devotion to the kings who ruled in succession there evoke notions of similarity to our present day. Just as the ruleers of the time were exaclted to levels of popularity or respect, we do the same with those who govern us today. Hopefully, one day someone will dig up a limestone monument of Barack Obama (or me?) complete with earplugs and jaguar headwear (okay, maybe no plugs).

The leftovers of what was once a bustling city center, complete with a market and ballcourt, felt strangely homey. I felt at peace among the ruins. I love sitting on the steps of the structures, just as a 23 year old Mayan might have done thousands of years ago. I ran around the remains as if I was in my own home.

Beyond the rock structures, the Macaws that greeted us at the front entrance to the park deserve recognition as well. I hate birds, but I must concede that these beautys make all other birds seem like pigeons.

The last evening in the city of Copan Ruinas arrived at completion with a trip to some natural hot springs in the mountains 45 minutes outside of town. After negotiating the surprise entrance fee we encountered upon arrival, we entered the sulfuric smelling spa. Multiple thermal pools at varying degrees of temperature were set among the lush green jungle plants and imitation mayan structures. We sat in the hot water relaxing the evening away.

Under the starlit night we rode in the bed of the pick-up truck back to our hotel. We passed by local Hondurans living in the mountains and in a way we said goodby to them and the beautiful country of Honuras which they inhabit.

A quick stop in El Salvador was to be next.

Roatan Island, Honduras

We had spent sufficient time in large urban settings and yearned for an injections of Central America's natural beauty. The country of Honduras is the perfect place to find such a remedy.

Honduras has by far been the most beautiful country we have visited. It's enormous hills and villages are peacefully offset by flatlands and crops. It is here that I saw a rainbow that would make the one I bragged about in Nicaragua pale in comparison. Hot never seems too hot here and the highlands present a brisk breeze. If it were a beauty contest, Honduras would be crowned Ms. Central America.

Roatan is a tropical island located two hours by boat off the northern coast of Honduras. It is part of a chain called the Bay Islands. We had originally planned to visit the nearby island of Utila first. However, when we arrived at the ferry dock the only one departing timely was the mammoth headed to Roatan.

In order to get to the ferry we travelled an entire day to the town of La Ceiba. Pizza Hut was again consumed and Max and I endured our hottest night of the trip. This would be a good time to offer that we have stayed mostly in low-budget accomodations. Due to my insistence and max's reluctance we have kept a low standard for living conditions. In La Ceiba the ceiling fans only pushed the hot air down upon us faster. The thin layer of sweat neve really dissipated over the entire night. I wouldn't have it any other way - or so I thought until the first night in Roatan.

The funniest part of our journey was the ferry ride to Roatan. We sat in first-class seats, which means $5 more for air-conditioning, leather chairs and a bad movie. I didn't know when I purchased the tickets that live entertainment was part of the package.

Not more than 10 minutes into the ride, the ferry picked up speed and picked up air as well. The bow rocked up and down and back and forth. Stomachs churned and vomit bags were filled. Literally half of our cabin was seasick. Constant running to the bathoom and passing out of plastic bags ensued. I won't go into too much detail, but I sat back grinning and concentrating while I mentally fought the difficult ride. The ferry never got the best of me.

The island paradise of Roatan is gorgeous. It is not overly developed or overly touristy like Cancun. It maintains a genuine island flair. The waters a mix of clear and turquoise blue. Fish swim all around and palm trees embellish the shore. It could be the perfect setting for a Corona commercial.

I wrote earlier how I enjoyed "rough" living conditions. Well, there is such a thing as unlivable conditions. We stayed the first night on the island in the latter type. For the second night we switched to a beautiful, yet more expensive, hotel complete with caged monkeys.

The highlights of the stay were the jet skis and kayaks. I have never had so much fun on a jet ski. The rough waters about 500 yards from the beach provided us with natural ramps to catch high air. 30 minutes of riding was more than enough time as the salt water was beginning to blind us.

I completed my second and final evening in paradise with some snorkeling and kayaking. I kayaked out toward the sunset and layed back as the sun descended in front of me. I closed my eyes and focused on the moment. I told myself to remember the experience. I took note, so that when I am in my small Austin apartment with nothing but the radiance of laptop screen on my face, drowning in 3 cups of coffee, writing a law school final, I might close my eyes yet again and transport myself back to that very time in paradise.

The next day we would depart for the Copan Ruins.

Tegucigalpa, Honduras

The 7 day hiatus is over and I am finally back to writing. The difficulty in posting to the blog is due to the sloooooow speed of the computers in this part of the country. Also, after exhausting myself on the Nicaragua diatribe I needed a small break.

At 4am we eagerly left Managua following that intense night among the Sandinistas. The following day proceeded as follows: 4 hours, border crossing, 4 hours, Tegucigalpa, Pizza Hut. Yes, Max discovered Pizza Hut, the food of our childhood, and we downed an entire large.

Tegus is a busy bustling city that lacks the silhouette of a city. The usual tall buildings and skyscrapers that are found in most major cities and capitals were lacking here. Only the exhaust, noise, plazas, and buses really let you know that you are in a metropolis. I was to find out early the next day that the radicalism in Nicaraguas capital would follow us to the next capital city.

We arose early to explore what little we believed to exist in the area pertinent to the tourist. Before departing for the artesania town of Valle de Angeles, Max stopped in to get a haircut from the local barber. While waiting patiently on the couch of the shop a hoard of high school students sprinted past the shop windows filling the streets in front of us. Rocks were being hurled in the area and the students projected taunts toward one specific building. The owner quickly moved outside of his peluqueria to close the shutters in order to prevent his windows from being smashed. Of course, I moved just as quckly outside the shop to attempt to get a nobel prize winning photo (The photo never presented itself). As I clicked away with my Canon semi-oblivious to what was occuring behind me, a plastic coke bottle filled with water exploded a foot above my head. I assume the riot spurred others to act foolishly and I became a target to the mayhem. Having barely dodged the projectile cast from the 4th floor behind me I safely moved back into the shop. The students amassed in front of the building and in unision cast insults toward the people inside.

We would later be informed that the students in the street were assembling in protest of a government initiative - or lack thereof. The Honduran politicians had promised a subsidy of some sort to the local students to compensate for the increase in gas prices. The students were having a hard time covering the cost of transportation. If I understood correctly, only the school that was receiving the brunt of the rocks and insults had been granted the subsidy so far. We watched for a little while longer as the students huddled with a Honduran flag planning their next move.

A more calm trip to the local National Art Gallery was next. The pieces were well worth the entrance fee and the peaceful depictions were soothing in comparison to the chaos still ongoing outside. My favorite work was a self-portrait painted by a local Honduran artist. I still believe the best art involves the human body - especially this one.

We then attempted to get out to a small town on the outskirts of the big city. Arriving at Valle de Angeles presented more difficulty than previously assumed. We transferred several buses and eventually befriended a resident of the area who would give us a lift after our bus broke down.

The city of Valle de Angeles is a beautiful cobble stoned puebla set in the Honduran mountains. An entire street caters to tourists looking to buy artesanias. We were most enamored with the mayan wood carvings. Our interest in the wooden ornate door pieces helped gain us entry into the back of the carpentery shop. We were allowed to see how the carvings were done, which is an incredible feat. I will certainly be ordering custom doors from Honduras if I ever buy a home.

Due to the layout of the city we spent the night interneting away. A spur of the moment change in our itinerary would necessitate an early departure the next day; we were headed to the island paradise of Utila.