That Time I Went To Honduras and it was Really Hot and Buggy.
Happiness today: it's FRIDAY, need I say more? Got my C.S homework done, so other than history readings this weekend is gravy for moi! I am also happy because I am drinking a grape Crush. I never outgrew my true love for grape pop. :)
All of my friends know I went to Honduras in the summer of 1995, just after high school graduation. But a question from [info]themeindzeye made me realize that I've never actually written down any of those adventurous two weeks. It's a long, often sweaty affair, so I will break it up into snippets. :)
I was seventeen when I went, and it was something I'm still glad I did, though I have no interest in going back. For starters, I hate the heat, and I especially hate humid heat. I lived in Louisiana for a few years before this and was miserable the whole time. We flew from Sea Tac to Dallas/ Ft Worth, and from there to La Ceiba, and drove from La Ceiba to Trujillo, where our camp was. The minute I got off the plane in Tegucigalpa, the heat hit me, and I suddenly, vividly remembered what living in Louisiana felt like. I was drenched in sweat in the five minutes it took to cross the tarmac from our plane to the "airport". We had to wait for the baggage handlers to finish going through our stuff, I don't remember why. Might have had something to do with the civil war that was going on in parts of the country, far removed from us. It was a little weird and a lot upsetting to see grown men I didn't know handling my panties, let me tell you. We had been warned before hand not to pitch a fit: apparently some of the handlers liked to try a rile incoming tourists, so we all put on our poker faces and endured. It was scary; I'd never seen guards hanging out with automatic weaponry. Casually. My poker face was then made of concrete. This was also where we discovered that about half of our luggage (including mosquito netting for our beds at camp) was missing. Lost by the airline.
Then came the bus ride to get us to our camp in Trujillo. That was a freakin' bus ride, let me tell you. It was a giant, rusted, formerly yellow, decommissioned school bus. The seats were all starting to rot out, and I really think the rust was all that was holding that beast together. Our driver was local, and spoke no English. This worked perfectly because none of us spoke Spanish. This man had two speeds: full blast, and off, and he charged ahead with more gusto than sense, as it took us (I think?) six hours to get to Trujillo, and it should have taken us three. Yep. He got lost. And then the bus broke down. I gave up and fell asleep at this point.
In the interim of this trip was my first terrifying culture shock: Honduran toilets. Did you ever see Trainspotting? If you did, then you know exactly what scene I'm referencing. I have no idea if this was actually the worst toilet in Honduras, but it was the worst I saw the entire time I was there. The toilet was contained in an ill-constructed shack, the door had no latch, and it was wet. All over, it was SOPPING. The toilet, the floor, all of it. I am notoriously unshakable, yet this was the first time in my life that I ever did a hover pee. I also discovered after I had peed, unhappily, that the toilet paper was all gone; all that was left was a lonely, wet cardboard roll. When I departed, I discovered that there was no sink, with which to wash my hands. Then I went to eat dinner! I'm not sure where we were when we stopped to eat-- it was a roadside stand next to the dirt road we were cruising on, I'm guessing designed specifically to appeal to travelers. I'm guessing not many Americans came through, because the cook, her family, and everyone else in the area came to stare at us as we ate. It was hilarious, honestly. It was also hot. We were in a junglish forest, or maybe a foresty jungle; stuff like hardwoods and banana trees, all entwined. That was actually really cool; I'd never seen a banana tree doing it's thing before!
Most of the road was paved, but there were big strips of it where it was just dirt, and once we hit that, the ride was actually sot of fun! The bus had no shocks to speak of, and there were some impressive ruts and boulders in the road; I'm firmly convinced that bus caught air at least once. I know my butt certainly did, which, like I said, was fun!
Finally, sometime late, we found the camp that we would be calling home for the next two weeks. It was small but charming, and several of us girls ended up bunking with the female counselors for that first night; for some reason some of our bunks weren't ready yet. That night I saw a spider with a leg spread easily as wide as my hand. Creeeepy.
Tomorrow: Heat, Mosquitoes, and Diarrhea!
All of my friends know I went to Honduras in the summer of 1995, just after high school graduation. But a question from [info]themeindzeye made me realize that I've never actually written down any of those adventurous two weeks. It's a long, often sweaty affair, so I will break it up into snippets. :)
I was seventeen when I went, and it was something I'm still glad I did, though I have no interest in going back. For starters, I hate the heat, and I especially hate humid heat. I lived in Louisiana for a few years before this and was miserable the whole time. We flew from Sea Tac to Dallas/ Ft Worth, and from there to La Ceiba, and drove from La Ceiba to Trujillo, where our camp was. The minute I got off the plane in Tegucigalpa, the heat hit me, and I suddenly, vividly remembered what living in Louisiana felt like. I was drenched in sweat in the five minutes it took to cross the tarmac from our plane to the "airport". We had to wait for the baggage handlers to finish going through our stuff, I don't remember why. Might have had something to do with the civil war that was going on in parts of the country, far removed from us. It was a little weird and a lot upsetting to see grown men I didn't know handling my panties, let me tell you. We had been warned before hand not to pitch a fit: apparently some of the handlers liked to try a rile incoming tourists, so we all put on our poker faces and endured. It was scary; I'd never seen guards hanging out with automatic weaponry. Casually. My poker face was then made of concrete. This was also where we discovered that about half of our luggage (including mosquito netting for our beds at camp) was missing. Lost by the airline.
Then came the bus ride to get us to our camp in Trujillo. That was a freakin' bus ride, let me tell you. It was a giant, rusted, formerly yellow, decommissioned school bus. The seats were all starting to rot out, and I really think the rust was all that was holding that beast together. Our driver was local, and spoke no English. This worked perfectly because none of us spoke Spanish. This man had two speeds: full blast, and off, and he charged ahead with more gusto than sense, as it took us (I think?) six hours to get to Trujillo, and it should have taken us three. Yep. He got lost. And then the bus broke down. I gave up and fell asleep at this point.
In the interim of this trip was my first terrifying culture shock: Honduran toilets. Did you ever see Trainspotting? If you did, then you know exactly what scene I'm referencing. I have no idea if this was actually the worst toilet in Honduras, but it was the worst I saw the entire time I was there. The toilet was contained in an ill-constructed shack, the door had no latch, and it was wet. All over, it was SOPPING. The toilet, the floor, all of it. I am notoriously unshakable, yet this was the first time in my life that I ever did a hover pee. I also discovered after I had peed, unhappily, that the toilet paper was all gone; all that was left was a lonely, wet cardboard roll. When I departed, I discovered that there was no sink, with which to wash my hands. Then I went to eat dinner! I'm not sure where we were when we stopped to eat-- it was a roadside stand next to the dirt road we were cruising on, I'm guessing designed specifically to appeal to travelers. I'm guessing not many Americans came through, because the cook, her family, and everyone else in the area came to stare at us as we ate. It was hilarious, honestly. It was also hot. We were in a junglish forest, or maybe a foresty jungle; stuff like hardwoods and banana trees, all entwined. That was actually really cool; I'd never seen a banana tree doing it's thing before!
Most of the road was paved, but there were big strips of it where it was just dirt, and once we hit that, the ride was actually sot of fun! The bus had no shocks to speak of, and there were some impressive ruts and boulders in the road; I'm firmly convinced that bus caught air at least once. I know my butt certainly did, which, like I said, was fun!
Finally, sometime late, we found the camp that we would be calling home for the next two weeks. It was small but charming, and several of us girls ended up bunking with the female counselors for that first night; for some reason some of our bunks weren't ready yet. That night I saw a spider with a leg spread easily as wide as my hand. Creeeepy.
Tomorrow: Heat, Mosquitoes, and Diarrhea!