We must go beyond textbooks, go out into the bypaths and untrodden depths of the wilderness and travel and explore and tell the world the glories of our journey. – John Hope Franklin
Tuesday, May 1, 2012 (DAYS 58 & 59)
5:30am and once again it’s time to get back on the road. It seems as though each time I begin to settle in to an area where the streets that were once foreign become familiar to me as an old friend, it is time to move along. This time my travel companions include four Canadians, Ty, Emily, Krista, and Jaimie, who secretly wishes to be an undercover Aussie at heart, and lastly, the other lowly American, Kaya. Laughter follows close beyond our group as each step we take is reminiscent of the past ten days on Utila and I cannot help but think, nossa, nossa, assim você me mata, ai se eu te pego, ai ai se eu te pego. The song that has become the unofficial anthem of Central America and a favorite of our group, Michel Teló we salute you amigo. Our destination leads us away from the island paradise of the northern Honduras Caribbean and in doing so we are chased by several dolphins in the wake of our ferry. The script of our early morning departure could not have been more tranquil or surreal.
5:30am and once again it’s time to get back on the road. It seems as though each time I begin to settle in to an area where the streets that were once foreign become familiar to me as an old friend, it is time to move along. This time my travel companions include four Canadians, Ty, Emily, Krista, and Jaimie, who secretly wishes to be an undercover Aussie at heart, and lastly, the other lowly American, Kaya. Laughter follows close beyond our group as each step we take is reminiscent of the past ten days on Utila and I cannot help but think, nossa, nossa, assim você me mata, ai se eu te pego, ai ai se eu te pego. The song that has become the unofficial anthem of Central America and a favorite of our group, Michel Teló we salute you amigo. Our destination leads us away from the island paradise of the northern Honduras Caribbean and in doing so we are chased by several dolphins in the wake of our ferry. The script of our early morning departure could not have been more tranquil or surreal.
In our limited ability of the Spanish language, thankfully we have Kaya to translate and negotiate for our North American band of awesomeness, minus Emily’s mangled toes. Sorry Em, but you should have your free healthcare just chop those puppies off, I don’t think they’re gonna make it. After a short taxi ride in a station wagon that we somehow have mimicked to mirror a chicken bus, both Ty and Jaimie squeeze into the front passenger seat and the remaining four of us are wedged in the back seat slightly on top of one another glued together by the sweat that we are profusely putting out while our packs are stacked to the ceiling just behind us. We reach the bus terminal and are soon on our way out of Honduras’ third largest city, La Ceiba. Thankful to leave the sketchy seaside town behind us, soon we are all fast asleep as we head west.
Four and a half hours later, we arrive at the main Terminal Gran Central Metropolitana in San Pedro Sula. Briefly stretching before throwing my pack over my shoulders the weight hits my lower back with a jolt, I am now ready for the long walk through the terminal and down the escalator to the ticket booths. Without even ten minutes to rest, we are rushed away by the bus driver that enthusiastically explains to us that the bus is leaving now! Soon we are on another four and a half hour ride that eventually will bring us to the small hillside town, Copan Ruinas.
Four and a half hours later, we arrive at the main Terminal Gran Central Metropolitana in San Pedro Sula. Briefly stretching before throwing my pack over my shoulders the weight hits my lower back with a jolt, I am now ready for the long walk through the terminal and down the escalator to the ticket booths. Without even ten minutes to rest, we are rushed away by the bus driver that enthusiastically explains to us that the bus is leaving now! Soon we are on another four and a half hour ride that eventually will bring us to the small hillside town, Copan Ruinas.
The sun is coloring the sky a majestic shade of colors as we reach our destination for the night. The relaxed cobblestone streets that lead to Carrillo Hotel, is a four star resort in comparison to the accommodations of Parrots. No knock on them, since the dive center has a unique and charming character all its own that I would easily go back to without question and continue to recommend without hesitation to other backpackers that may find themselves traveling towards Utila. Our home for the night however, is a palace and a bargain at $4 per person for the night. Rooms with ceiling fans, Wi-fi that can actually load web pages, free clean drinking water to refill our parched containers, thick comfortable mattresses, and clean showers with luke-warm water. Don’t laugh, because any true backpacker will tell you that this luxury is equivalent to that white rabbit finally beating down those selfish kids to enjoy just a single spoonful of those delicious Trix. Victory my friends. Tasty high-fructose corn syrup with artificial colors and flavors, victory, in the form of waters that are not bone-chillingly cold.
The last supper of our group is shared in a small café, and despite the exhaustion that is plastered across each of our faces we savor our final meal together without concern for time. As I sit listening to the conversations around me, I stop and acquire mental snapshots of the smiles of the new friends that surround me. Oh wait, Krista’s mental image is blurry and I’ve chosen to discard it without a second thought. So, our beautiful group of five will be remembered for years to come in my memory. Maybe next time Maple Leaf.
The last supper of our group is shared in a small café, and despite the exhaustion that is plastered across each of our faces we savor our final meal together without concern for time. As I sit listening to the conversations around me, I stop and acquire mental snapshots of the smiles of the new friends that surround me. Oh wait, Krista’s mental image is blurry and I’ve chosen to discard it without a second thought. So, our beautiful group of five will be remembered for years to come in my memory. Maybe next time Maple Leaf.
After a quick shower, I am fast asleep just after 9:30pm. Dreaming about dinosaurs with lasers strapped to them with aspirations of demolishing Winterpeg and treasure hunting with Andrea as we find a ginormous wooden knife to complete the silverware set that eluded us before leaving Colorado. Now we just have to locate the giant that these hilarious pieces were created for, quick start up the Mystery Machine I’ll grab Scooby. It is a night of sleep that I have craved since starting this day’s journey beginning at 5:30am, and I’m quite sure I haven’t slept this good in at least a month.
An abrupt cell phone alarm awakes us at 5:30am. Kaya forgot to reset this from our previous early morning and I’m ready to give her a five-fingers to the face, but, I hold back since she’s in the bed across from me above the covers in a land devoted, to of all things, being awake. This is quite the opposite of the land that I have wiggled my way under that cherishes deep unbridled rest, especially for those that savor every additional second of sleep before another long day of travel. Crawling to my feet, stretching and yawning with each motion that is made, I gather the last of my items, zip up my pack, and I am ready to conquer a new day through the fine art form, of sitting in confined spaces. Try not to be jealous.
An abrupt cell phone alarm awakes us at 5:30am. Kaya forgot to reset this from our previous early morning and I’m ready to give her a five-fingers to the face, but, I hold back since she’s in the bed across from me above the covers in a land devoted, to of all things, being awake. This is quite the opposite of the land that I have wiggled my way under that cherishes deep unbridled rest, especially for those that savor every additional second of sleep before another long day of travel. Crawling to my feet, stretching and yawning with each motion that is made, I gather the last of my items, zip up my pack, and I am ready to conquer a new day through the fine art form, of sitting in confined spaces. Try not to be jealous.
Twelve and a half hours, 408km (254 miles), 50 Limperas ($2.56), 150 Quetzales ($18.75), one overland border crossing, six buses, one taxi, and a tuk tuk later, and, we have arrived at Lago de Atitlán just after 8:30pm. The exhaustion hasn’t entirely overcome me, and I have just enough energy to share a quick dinner with Kaya before passing out from the longest day of travel I’ve experienced thus far.
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