Flight

Well, it turns out we really were stranded on an island. After a few attempts at catching the ferry, lugging our bags back and forth to and from the dock only to hear that the ferry was cancelled yet again due to weather, we were really beginning to believe that we´d never be able to leave. Not that we were excited about getting on that awful ferry again. We had heard that the last time it went, what should have been an hour´s trip ended up being almost two and a half because of how rough the waters were. Lisa was ready to fully drug herself. Anyway, we were sitting in our favorite cafe getting breakfast when a group of three very nice people came up to us and said that they had looked into chartered flights to get off the island that day. The plane would only hold 5 people, and they were hoping to split the cost that way, so would we be interested in joining them? It is worth noting that the flight was 15 minutes, piloted by the only FAA approved pilot in Honduras. It didn´t take long before we agreed to it. And man, was it ever a good idea, even though Lisa half expected to plumet into the ocean at some point during the 10 minutes we were crossing it.


Lisa in the plane, just before take-off.



Reade enjoying the view, just atop the ocean.



Lisa as co-pilot, headset and all.






Aerial views of the Utila coastline.



Coming in for a landing to the runway in La Ceiba.



Our little plane, landed safely in La Ceiba.

Skipping Rocks

The rain finally subsided enough for us to venture over to the other end of the island and check out the private beach, which you see just below. You can kind of see how much debris has washed up on shore from all of the rain. You have to pay $3 a person just to get in, but there’s supposed to be some good snorkeling there, so we figured it was worth looking into. We were about to rent our snorkel gear when a friendly local man warned us to go in with all of our clothes on. Why, you ask? Well, apparently, the big Man-Of-War jellyfish are fairly abundant this time of year, and if you wear your clothes, at least you have a better chance of not getting stung. Given that it was pretty windy and a little chilly from all of the rain, that was enough to convince us that we’d rather just hang out on the beach.


We hadn’t brought books or anything else to do, really, since we had been planning on snorkeling, so we both sat down on the chairs, glad to be outside but wondering what we were going to do. I mean, usually we are so much more prepared than this. Plus, we were the only people on the whole beach, so it’s not like we could even people watch.

We could never have planned it, but without having anything to do, we ended up getting into a wonderful conversation at the end of which Reade discovered that I have never learned how to skip rocks. With all of the rain over the past few days, tons of great rocks had washed up on shore, and it didn’t take long before Reade (who is a great teacher, by the way) had successfully taught me the techniques necessary to skip rocks. So we spent the next hour laughing, playing, and skipping rocks into the Caribbean Sea as the sun set over the horizon. I haven’t had so much fun in a long, long time. And all because we had nothing to do.

Bugs, Rain, More Rain, Even More Rain… and a few other curiosities.

After two taxis, a 90-minute bus ride, and the bumpiest hour-long boat trek I have ever experienced, we finally arrived on the small Caribbean island off the northern coast of Honduras called Utila. This is a scuba diver’s haven, boasting some of the best and least expensive diving in the world (you can become PADI certified and get 6 dives for under $200). It’s also the least expensive of the 3 main Bay Islands. Upon stepping off the boat, we were immediately surrounded by at least five different people trying to convince us to stay at their hotel, take their diving courses, go to their party, etc. We finally settled on a little place right on the water, and even with air conditioning, for $20 a night. It is brand new, very clean, with nice chairs right on the deck outside of our room, and it is beyond pleasant sitting out here, watching the sun set over the ocean, and catching the almost constant breeze off the water.

One of the first things we learned about Utila is that it is home to many hungry insects. Last time I counted, I had no less than 20 bug bites. Good thing we remembered our malaria pills. The frustrating thing is that bug spray only works on certain types of bugs. The little sand fleas for some reason couldn’t care less if you smell like bad air freshener, so you have to use baby oil for them. Within our first 15 minutes on the island, I was sporting at least 5 very itchy bug bites, so after we dropped our bags in our room, we loaded up on both types of bug shielding to protect ourselves so that we could go out and get some dinner without being eaten, ourselves. I might have gotten a little carried away with the oil, though. As Reade put it, I looked a bit like a glazed donut. Glazed or not, it worked, and I was scrubbing oil off in the shower that night instead of scrubbing bites to relieve the itching.

In the middle of the night, we were both awakened to the loudest rain either of us has ever heard. This rain continued on through the remainder of the night, making it very hard to sleep, and when we finally surrendered and got up in the morning, the rain was still going strong. And it kept going, all day long. This was no ordinary rain. There is no other way to describe it than to say it was a full on torrential downpour – or as they say here, lloviendo chuzos (raining pitchforks). Sometimes, it was pounding so hard on the tin roof above our heads that we could not even hear each other talk. Just deafening. The weather channel reported that 13 inches of rain had hit our little island in four hours. Over the course of 24 hours, we guessed it rained over 20 inches. The locals said it was much worse than what they experienced from the Category 5 Hurricane Felix. Now that’s a lot of rain.

Most of the island closes down when it rains, and that also means a big hiatus on boats coming in or going out. We were literally stranded on an island, and pretty much stuck in our room for 24 hours straight with all of the thunder and lightning, which was so close it literally shook our entire building again and again. We were able to venture out a couple of times to get breakfast and dinner, but Firefighter Reade just simply wouldn’t allow it if there was any hint of lightning. So we got a little stir crazy, and Lisa got good use out of the travel workout her friend Michelle wrote for her. A couple of times. 24 hours in one small space is a long time.

The next morning, the rain had finally let up a bit and we were able to go exploring. Utila is far from the sleepy town of Tela. There’s quite a nightlife scene here, and quite an assortment of people. Where as we were some of the only white people in Tela, we blend in amongst a sea of tourist faces here. The culture is very laid back; most of the people we have encountered are weed smoking, non-showering, scuba diving, Reggae playing beach bums. This does not include, however, our favorite neighborhood transvestite waiter…tress…ter… well, it’s a he that wants to be a she. We think. And of course, there’s the house just down the road, which we thought was for the resident loonies but after talking to a couple of locals, we found out it´s actually for the crackheads. It´s very sad, really. There’s a transvestite in that group, too. He likes to wear halter tops. Then there’s the guy with one arm that carries around a big, rusty machete with his stump (I wonder how he lost his arm?). And the guy who rides his bicycle with his two giant parrots resting on his shoulders, whom you can see in the picture above. It’s a kind of “anything goes” mantra. It makes people watching a very interesting pastime.

Also noteworthy about this place is how different the people are from the rest of Honduras. You can see the effect of the British occupation 60 years ago in that most of the island is English speaking and more white than dark skinned. Most people speak English, Spanish, and a Creole sounding dialect that shows the influence of slavery which used to be prominent in the Bay Islands.

It rained again this morning, and is forecasted to do so every day for the next week. So Reade is going to go diving tomorrow (weather permitting) and then we’re going to continue on to the next place… if the ferry is operating, that is. Who knows? We might be stuck here for a long, long time.

Tela, Honduras

Our time in Tela was filled with the perfect mix of relaxation, fun, and adventure. We found an awesome little apartment two blocks from the central park and four from the beach, so we were close by just about any place we wanted to go. Plus, the beach here is awesome (see the picture below). Having our own little kitchenette saved us tons of money on food, and we were lucky enough to have a TV in the place, which was nice since the whole town closes down around 8pm. Reade even got to watch a little Monday night football (commentary in Spanish, of course), which made him very happy.



A few highlights from Tela follow, broken up in to three different blog entries.

Tela Activity #1: Biking

Our love of exploring new towns prompted us to rent a couple of bikes, joining in with the locals on the main mode of transportation, and make our way to both the poorer and richer parts of town. It never ceases to amaze me how simply most Central Americans live, in circumstances we Americans would deem “unlivable”, and the contrast that exists literally across the railroad tracks, reserved for the elite, lighter skinned rich people. It was fun to be able to see more of Tela than we would have been able to cover on foot, even though it was on rusty old bikes not made to fit people with short legs like me. Both of our bums were a little sore the next day from the rickety old seats. Below, you see one of the busier streets in Tela, filled (of course) with bikers.

Tela Activity #2: A Trek Across Gilligan’s Island

We decided to take advantage of being close to the water and take a snorkeling/hiking trip to a jungle-covered northern Honduran coastal tip about an hour’s boat ride away from Tela, called Punta Sal. Mercifully, the ocean was uncharacteristically calm that day, and the weather a delightful combination of sun and breeze. We loaded up with bug spray and began our hike through the jungle with our guide identifying all different types of flora and fauna for us along the way. Of greatest interest, with pictures below, were:







The spider, who, including his legs, was literally as big as my palm. Blech. My future sister-in-law, Amanda, would have loved this guy.








The banana flower, which apparently makes a really loud popping sound when it opens; this was cool to see because I have showed pictures of this plant to my students before, but have never seen one in person.





And our favorite: the howler monkey. This monkey’s “howl” sounds remarkably like a very large dog barking. Apparently, these furry creatures are very territorial, so if they feel threatened, they literally mark their territory. In other words, the best advice is not to stand under them. Ever.





From there, we went snorkeling over a coral reef. It was nice to be in the water and explore around together, but the visibility was pretty poor, so there wasn’t much to see… until we went to a Garifuna village for lunch, that is (Garifuna being a cultural subset here with an African influence). This place reminded Reade of Gilligan’s Island, although I must admit that I’ve never actually seen the show. The fish that we had failed to see in the water had made their way (caught fresh just hours before, complete with eyes and fins and everything else), onto the lunch plates of all the other people who came on the trip, including our very own Professor. Fortunately, we had packed our lunch and did not have to dig through the eyes and innards. By the time we got back to Tela, we still had time to go play on the beach. You can’t ask for much more than that.

Tela Activity #3: Lancetilla, the Botanical Gardens

Our time in Tela did have to come to an end, sadly, so the morning of our departure day, we decided to have one last adventure there. We had read about a Botanical Garden there called Lancetilla, and thought it worth a visit. It was created by United Fruit Company about 100 years ago for research purposes. Upon our arrival at the gardens, we were greeted by a sweet, soft-spoken young man named Lenin, who clearly wanted to be our guide. That’s all well and good, but this young man speaks not a lick of English. He was, however, passionate about the trees and plants that they had there, and was trying to make an honest living doing what he loves, so we decided to give it a whirl.

Surprisingly, we were able to understand a great deal of what he said, and he took us through the gardens in a much more meaningful way than we would have forged on our own. While it was lovely, there wasn’t a lot of color like you would see in an American botanical garden… just mostly green. I had to laugh, though, when this 18-year-old boy started explaining to us how the plants were green because of chlorophyll, produced through photosynthesis; this being a concept that I have taught to my 8-year-old students. By the end, Reade’s ADD and the heat kicked in (it’s almost “winter” here and 95 degrees), so we bid farewell to our young friend, ready to pack up and head on to our next destination.


This is the prety wax flower that tops the ginger root.



As we were walking along, we saw this iguana scurrying along just beside us.



Sporting some of the only color in the whole gardens, this red topped bamboo was one of Lisa´s favorites.



By far the coolest part of the gardens, this ¨Christ Flower¨ was named such to pay homage t0 the blood (the red base) and the purity of Christ (the white flower). They grow on large bushes and are just beautiful.



Us in front of the giant bamboo tunnel.

We´re Back!

After about 7 hours of travelling, we stepped off of the plane into the hot and humid climate of San Pedro Sula, Honduras and were greeted by the old familiar visions of the Central American culture we have come to love (or at least appreciate):

...the ramshackle buildings and run down houses... the bright colors adorning most of the structures... the vendors making and selling authentic food all over the sides of the streets... the sounds of friendly Spanish chatter... the open green spaces where land is free from house upon house... the homegrown businesses... the sounds of American 80´s music pouring out of just about every radio... the cold showers... the friendly central parks where locals congregate just to hang out and be together... the walking to all desinations... even the Central American public transportation system...

...and I breathed a sigh of relief.
It is good to be back.

As much as physical comfort just does not describe the lifestyle here, there is something so freeing and compelling about the simplicity of 3rd world life. We are not bound by busy-ness and rushing around from one thing to the next. We are not distracted by the constant influx of phone calls and emails and activities. We are free to explore and talk to people whose lifestyle is such that they have the time to live amongst their neighbors.

We began our time here in Honduras in its second largest city where we spent about a day and a half. We did not have a lot of time to explore, but it is one of the more dangerous places to be, especially for gringos carrying around big backpacks, and there is not much to do there. Since we arrived after dark, we decided to book a room over the internet in a place we knew would be safe which meant that it was a bit on the nicer side. Not that I´m complaining... it was really nice, and even had hot water and air conditioning... but I definitely felt like we did not fit. So we moved the next day to a little family run bed and breakfast where our Spanish was put to the test. And we´re a little rusty, but man oh man, it´s fun to speak it again.

We are now in a sleepy little town on the northern Caribbean coast of Honduras called Tela. It was highly recommended to us by the locals. We found a little apartment with its own kitchen, so we will save money by making our own meals. We went to the grocery store yesterday and spent $16 for 3 bags full of groceries. Not bad at all. Of course, it helps that the exchange rate works very much in our favor: one of our American dollars is worth about 19 of theirs. So we´ll hang out here for a few days and take advantage of the beach and some of the kayaking and river activities. And, of course, drink in the local life that we have missed so much over the last four months. It really is good to be back.