Better far off to leave half the ruins and nine-tenths of the churches unseen and to see well the rest; to see them not once, but again and often again; to watch them, to learn them, to live with them, to love them, till they have become a part of life and life’s recollections. – Augustus Hare
Saturday, April 21, 2012 (DAYS 48 & 49)
Awaking in my protective neon green sleep liner, I open my eyes and I am lying on a mattress that has more holes in the paper thin sheet underneath me than the socks on Milk Chocolate’s feet. I’m almost certain our hotel room is the birthplace of aids, and if not, some new virus will generate from within the walls of this negative star rated hotel that is unheard of on Expedia. Rested and excited to once again take in the splendor of the deep blue waters of the Caribbean and be out of the jungles of Guatemala, away from the bugs and insects that have feasted upon my skin with the small red battle scars to prove it, it is just after 6am and I am ready to attack the day. Leaving the glorious Hotel Christopher behind at the rate of $13 per night and refusing to return our single roll of toilet paper to the front desk to be recycled for the next auspicious guests, we step in to the sun already causing the temperature to rise with every minute of the morning. Turning right just outside the entrance of our glorious accommodations, we walk down five blocks to the bus depot in hopes of reaching the port for Utila. First of all, I will mention that directions in Central America thus far are the most ambiguous I have ever experienced. The woman at the front desk of the hotel told us just a block and you’re there. Not the case.
Awaking in my protective neon green sleep liner, I open my eyes and I am lying on a mattress that has more holes in the paper thin sheet underneath me than the socks on Milk Chocolate’s feet. I’m almost certain our hotel room is the birthplace of aids, and if not, some new virus will generate from within the walls of this negative star rated hotel that is unheard of on Expedia. Rested and excited to once again take in the splendor of the deep blue waters of the Caribbean and be out of the jungles of Guatemala, away from the bugs and insects that have feasted upon my skin with the small red battle scars to prove it, it is just after 6am and I am ready to attack the day. Leaving the glorious Hotel Christopher behind at the rate of $13 per night and refusing to return our single roll of toilet paper to the front desk to be recycled for the next auspicious guests, we step in to the sun already causing the temperature to rise with every minute of the morning. Turning right just outside the entrance of our glorious accommodations, we walk down five blocks to the bus depot in hopes of reaching the port for Utila. First of all, I will mention that directions in Central America thus far are the most ambiguous I have ever experienced. The woman at the front desk of the hotel told us just a block and you’re there. Not the case.
Successfully reaching the port, the bus stops just feet from entering through the gate and we are forced to continue on foot. The short eight-minute walk brings us to the dock where I cannot help but smile as I look out over the endless appearance of water on the horizon. We purchase a roundtrip ticket to the small island off the northern coast of Honduras and after an hour on the boat we are greeted in typical traveler fashion with hordes of people flamboyantly and often annoyingly directly in our face attempting to persuade us to stay at the hotel they are peddling. Taking our time not to feel rushed in to a decision, a survival lesson learned quickly as a backpacker, we finally settled upon Parrots Dive Center. Originally, I was unsure of doing any diving, but rather was seeking relaxation after volunteering for almost five weeks, with a grueling schedule of 48 hours a week with only one day off. My only experience with diving was two years ago off Cairns, Australia at the Great Barrier Reef with a single day trip that was over $600 for three dives, so after contemplating the perks of obtaining my open water diving certification, which is good for life, in the cheapest place in the world to receive it while also receiving five free nights of accommodation and two free fun dives for only $250, I caved.
A quick check of the weather, 90 degrees with a Real Feel of 114, it is without question that it’s time to cool off and we were quickly on our way to the beach. The short fifteen-minute walk quickly brings me back to my previous island experience in Caye Caulker and I am reminded to slow down to the snail pace of life. Dragging my feet as I walk in spite of the blazing temperatures, I think back to my two pals, Char and Tim, and hope that they haven’t frozen to death in the artic tundra of America’s Top Hat, also known as Canada. The three of us had talked about making this trek together, but both time and funds did not allow for the crazy tunies to join me and so I feel as though I am here, even now, for the trike of North America. How aboot it, cheers aye.
Oranges, blues, and purples are beautifully reflected in the mirrored waters of the Caribbean as the setting sun brings little relief to the hot tropic air, and this is a welcome change from the cool rainy weather of Peten, Guatemala. Sitting on the dock, gazing out over my newest place to call home, I feel a wonderful sense of peace and tranquility. Music from the island begins to be heard as the night sky reveals a blanket of stars in all directions, and, paradise has found me yet again.
Oranges, blues, and purples are beautifully reflected in the mirrored waters of the Caribbean as the setting sun brings little relief to the hot tropic air, and this is a welcome change from the cool rainy weather of Peten, Guatemala. Sitting on the dock, gazing out over my newest place to call home, I feel a wonderful sense of peace and tranquility. Music from the island begins to be heard as the night sky reveals a blanket of stars in all directions, and, paradise has found me yet again.
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