Tegucigalpa

We spent the night in Tegus. It was a hotel room with a high window that looked across the expanse of two feet to another high window. Both were caked with dirt and cobwebs making the curtain unnecessary. There are three sides to Tegus: the rich, the poor and the extension of America. The rich sections (where we didn’t stay) seem nice with their large hotels, pool side bars, saunas and gyms, all surrounded by trees that cools off the area nicely. The poor side has no running water or power or windows and doors. In between this you get America. I had dinner on the outdoor patio of a Mexican restaurant which looked out on the Wendy’s and Midas. The Burger King, McDonalds and Pizza Hut are only a block away. Then there’s the mall, a three story monstrosity that is nicer and more crowded than any mall I have seen. The only thing missing was the purchases that people would have been making if this mall were somewhere else. There are local versions of Home Depot and Costco, car dealerships lining the streets and horrible traffic at every intersection. On Sunday they closed a road for a car show that consisted of four muscle cars and a few fire trucks. Two weeks ago they had a parade down the main street with a marching band and 7 horses that could walk sideways, and they all just went down the road, stopping at the traffic lights and blocking traffic for miles. Just another city.

The central park is a concrete square adjacent to the church of the pigeon roosts. The birds line up on all the overhangs out of the morning sun. The only place to eat is the Burger King so you have to suck it up and intake the grease. Sunday morning in the park was a line of people selling lottery tickets, held down from any breeze by rusted iron washers and trinkets. Taxi’s run by in the hundreds. One stops and the exiting boy puts the pistol back under his shirt then puts his change in his pocket. It must be awkward to sit with the gun in your pants. Another boy asks for my coke as I wait to get in the cab. I give it to him and he smiles and walks to under the tree, out of the heat. It’s after 9am but there are no sounds coming from the church. The vendors barely try to hock their tickets. The sun seems to bring the silence and they are preparing for their day of heat. Except the cabs. They blow their horns as a language screaming to the other white cabs “out of my way” or “you want a ride” to the people on the streets. A honk and a look, are you my next fare? Are you my dinner?

Everyone is hungry for something. You just never know what.

A Few Photos

The residential section in Copan Ruins
Baleadas, the common quick food: tortillias, beans, cheese and cream! Yum!
Self portrait in the Ruins
Just another happy Mayan statue. They usually aren't so "cute".

The First Week

I’ve been in Honduras for two weeks, and a week here at my new home in Zamorano. Internet isn’t set up at the house yet (which is why I haven’t been writing. Sorry), but the TV gets thirty some stations including TNT, ESPN, BBC, CNN, and the Latin American version of HBO and Cinemax, all in English. Fancy!

Zamorano is a valley about an hour outside of the capital, Tegucigalpa. It is also home to a large, agriculture college, which brings the advantage that the students grow, produce and raise all the food here. From fresh butter, yogurt and ice cream to vegetables, fish, and the only cheddar cheese in the country, everything is from this valley. It has the added advantage that there is a semi-filtered water system on campus so you can even eat the food. There are a lot of oddities, but the food has proven to be fantastic.

The Puesta (store), is packed with Zamorano products, and when you look at Tegus, or Copan, you will see the label there, too. Hondurans love the Zamorano food, with good reason. If the food was this fresh and good in the states, I might have never left.

Rain and Ruins

When I was in Macedonia a month or so ago, it rained. Hard, fast and quick. I was walking down a cobblestone street when I heard the thunder. Within 2 minutes the rain came as a downpour with only a few sprinkles to warn you. Luckily, when this first happened, I was next to a coffee house and I ducked in for an espresso. The unlucky thing was that it was one of those cafes that women never go in. Ever! But, knowing I wasn’t a local and couldn’t speak Macedonian or read Cyrillic, and that no one should be forced out in the rain, I was served and had only half finished the small shot by the time the rain stopped.

Well, now a month later I find myself in Copan Ruinas, Honduras with the same rain, only here you get a little more warning and women are allowed in all the cafes (just not the bars). You can hear the thunder slowly creeping closer, then the flashes come and you can count them nine seconds ahead of the thunder. Then five, then the rain comes, and like Macedonia you only get a few drops before the sky opens up and you had better be under cover. Like my first night in the country, it only lasted about 15 minutes. Then the thunder is again five seconds from the flash, then seven, then nine. The way is clear for walking again.

Only here you get a second shot at the rain, and after a brief break, and enough time to get to this internet café, the thunder and rain continues to roll through the valley and you can fear the rain pounding on all of the leaves which are bigger then my head. And there is a band still playing in the central park (under cover) preparing for tonight’s much talked about town fiesta, and cars, and chatter and more music. Music everywhere.