Where better to start than when I left off 3 months ago? This is for anyone who's asked and I haven't had a chance to tell, for anyone who's doing the Facebook/Twitter creepy-stalker-ish thing...or, we can say this is for anyone who's in the mood for a love story told old-man style (as most of my stories are). Whether it happened to me or anyone else, trust me - it's a good one.
My adventure saw a casualty before I even made it to my first gate: a jar of all-natural honey peanut butter of whom my now fiancee & I share a mutual love for. By the time I was given the option to check it my bags were long gone and it just wasn't worth the trouble at 5:30 a.m. My layover in ATL was exactly what you'd expect: too much distance to travel in such a short amount of time. However, I made it with the help of their handy dandy airport subway. On the flight to San Pedro Sula I met a Christian middle-aged dating couple from opposite sides of ATL (which makes my fiancee & I living on opposite sides of KC seem not-so-bad) on their way to Honduras for a mission trip. I spent most of the flight staring out the window like a small child before I fell asleep watching Tron: Legacy (which I highly do NOT recommend). Up until then it was sheer excitement keeping me awake after only 16 hours of sleep spread throughout the entire week.
I then arrived on Central American soil. It's amazing how after only 6 hours of travel I can be what seems a world apart. After the most disorganized & crowded customs experience of my life I found myself playing the part of the stereotypical confused tourist in an even more disorganized & crowded terminal. I was then able to garner the assistance of who looked to be an employee of the airport in finding the bus terminal; however, this individual, who turned out to be a taxi driver, began hustling me. By the time an airport security guard chased him off he seemed to lose interest upon discovering there was a language barrier. As if things weren't already interesting, I discovered that the bus leaving from that terminal was in fact not the same bus that would take me 3 hours away to Copan Ruinas where my girlfriend was waiting for me. Unfortunately, there was also a language barrier between me and the clerk behind the counter, but thankfully I found a cheap iTouch offline translator app which came to my rescue and I was able to buy my ticket to the Grand Central bus station (a whopping 10 min. from the airport), from whence the bus route which I actually had a ticket for would depart. After dealing with that I met a friendly English-speaking Canadian couple who provided me with some sanity and entertained me with tales of their nation's ample required vacation time and all of the expensive vacation plans they had in Honduras. I asked the nice couple to watch my belongings as I discovered in all the excitement of things that I needed to exchange my money if I wanted to buy food. After spending 20 minutes in line watching the teller's co-worker not do anything and who appeared to be her manager also not do anything (except stare at me quite awkwardly) I got to the counter only to discover I left my passport with the Canadians, thus losing my place in line and getting to wait another 20 minutes. I rushed back to the bus terminal thinking that I was running late...but I forgot I was on Honduran time at that point (meaning they are more lax with their punctuality). Being the scatterbrained person I am, I then discovered I hadn't eaten anything and then rushed to the food court to grab a Wendy's Baconator. Luckily the bus was just arriving when I ran back. While in line for the bus, the friendly cabbie returned again offering to help me with my bags. Apparently he didn't appreciate me playing the dumb American a second time.
Immediately I began reaping the benefits of the exchange rate as I took my private seat (read: recliner) on the most spacious and luxurious bus that $20 has ever bought. I spent most of the ride taking pictures of everything through the windows (again, like a child) while enjoying The Nutty Professor. The amount of pollution on the sides of the roads was astounding, as was the way the Hondurans drove (picture downtown Chicago). I was annoyed by the constant slowing down of the bus up very steep hills (this was of course due to the gradual increase in elevation en route to a mountainous region). Nevertheless, I was finally able to relax.
Finally, after 14 hours of traveling, my girlfriend greeted me upon my arrival in Copan Ruinas, Honduras. A moto-taxi (or tuk-tuk in some cultures) drove us recklessly through hilly & uneven cobblestone streets to her house on the edge of town. I met her roommate for the first time, though I suppose in some ways I already knew her based on months of my girlfriend's stories of close living and bonding. After unloading my things we went out for baleadas (a combination of meat, cheese, beans, and rice(?) sandwiched between 2 thick tortillas) made by whom she affectionaly dubbed as the Crunchy Baleada Lady, known for two things: 1) operating her restaurant out of what appeared to be her home and 2) making her baleadas crunchy (apparently not typical in Honduras). I also had a chance to experience a small dose of the exercise I would be getting that week - and that my girlfriend had been getting for several months walking across town to work and back everyday. We ended the night by relaxing and playing guitar (I taught her roommate how to play Gungor's Beautiful Things), and of course I couldn't end the night without brushing my teeth. Had I not been so ready for bed after a hectic week followed by a day of traveling, I would've paid more attention to what water I was using to brush my teeth.
To be continued....
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