I headed into town the next morning past dilapidated houses and shacks thinking that my tree fort that I built when I was ten was more structurally sound than most of these houses. I ate a quick breakfast: sausage, two eggs, and of course....tortillas with every meal.
I started the day as a solo traveler. When I got to the dock, I booked passage. Fifteen minutes later I met Kerri, a Canadian. She had been traveling with her boyfriend and this was the first day she was flying solo. She was a pretty girl, and you could tell that she came from money. I think she liked the security of having someone else there. We had a border crossing that day. We bumped into a two-pack from Switzerland: good looking younger couple and a father/daughter team from Pennsylvania. We were now six.
We wandered together though the fish market.
The boat ride was very cool. We put head phones on and watched as the mountains of Honduras become more visible.
Border crossings are nerve racking! My first crossing was into Belize. The guy at the Mexico border would not let me out because I had "bad documents". He said it louder and louder and smiled knowingly at the bus driver. He originally suggested a bribe of fifty dollars, but I was able to get though by slipping him a twenty.
Once into Belize they said I could not enter because my passport was not signed. He was looking for a gift (bribe) as well. I got out of the line, signed the passport, went to another border guy, and got in.
I got off the boat thinking we were in Honduras, but actually we were in Guatemala. My new friends must have thought I was an idiot. I spoke the language at last, so (although my directional skills were off) I was still handy to have around.
We changed our money for the local currency and walked into town. Kerrie was very concerned and made it her personal mission to make sure that she was not charged more than the locals. Any time she asked for price, she would reply "too much." I would translate...."demasiado". I would just shake my head and let her be the bitch, as if she wore the pants in our relationship. As if there was a relationship. It worked. We were a good team.
We caught a ride with 14 people in a minivan which weaved in and out of crowded streets heading for the border. Everyone starred at us, but mostly the two foreign blonds. We lost the two Europeans along the way, and our pack of six became four. The two from the states were traveling hippies, the cool kind who started their journey at the Rainbow Gathering in Southern California. They were dirty and smelled foul. They slept on the beach most nights, and their 15 year old daughter walked bare foot though the crowded border town.
It was a long bus ride but good conversation into San Pedro Sula. We switched buses, lost the dirty Americans, and settled in for another few hours in the bus. I sat with a nun and two Amish guys. It was just Kerri and me now.
We arrived in the rough city of La Cieba. We got a taxi after Kerrie did her normal routine...."too much." We found a room above a bakery but did not ask the critical question....hot water? We had cold showers that night. We found an internet lab, had tacos, and began to strike up conversations with the locals about the next part of the journey.
Kerri read a book and crashed early. I walked around a bit. I moved my wallet into my front pocket and kept a close eye on what and who was behind me. I did not feel comfortable. We went back to where I had dinner and three of the waiters came up to me and eagerly asked....la rubia (the blonde)? I said we were just traveling together....not "together". One sighed and said, “Que lastima....(what a shame).”
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