Honduras and Nicaragua: Gemma's Thoughts

Our first stop in Honduras was Copan Ruinas, a small, scruffy town that is just over the border from Guatemala, and our last stop on our Mayan tour. Although we felt a little on edge, the town seemed quiet and sleepy, and there was very little hassle which made a nice change. After crossing the border in the dark we arrived at our hostel and settled into a large, comfy room. We took a short stroll but opted to eat at the restaurant opposite the hostel. I always feel a little uncomfortable arriving somewhere after sunset and much prefer to get my bearings in the daylight hours.

 

I was surprised how similar Honduras is to Guatemala, maybe this is because we are only just over the border or maybe it is because much of Latin America feels quite similar, and we are still in Mayan territory. After a whistle-stop tour of Copan and the ruins, which were the most ornate so far, we set off for our overnight stop in the city and planned to leave Honduras the next day.

Honduras has been my least favourite country, but perhaps I'm being a little unfair. Both of us are homesick, which doesn't help but it is also a slightly smaller, less interesting version of where we have spent the last six weeks - maybe if we had come hear first then I would speak more highly of it.

With Christmas coming we tried to make plans but timings worked against us. Buses were already full and skirting through the country quickly soon became impossible. We got stuck in San Pedro Sula, the second largest city in Honduras, for three nights instead of one. It is fairly dangerous there, and we had little to no chance of venturing out. The hostel was fairly decent though, and as everyone else used it for a one night stop over we had a constant flow of people to share stories with.

We left on Christmas Eve via a 14 hour bus journey to Managua, the capital of Nicaragua, which is another dangerous, dirty city, an hour away from Granada - where we wanted to be. Still, being Christmas, we had made the most of it and ourselves booked into the Lonely Planet's "top pick" hotel complete with air con and pool.

But it didn't work out that way. We woke up on Christmas morning in an absolute dive, Darren close to depression and me constantly in floods of tears.Without even unpacking, we put our bags on our backs, I flagged the nearest taxi and we began making our way to the bus station. On enquiring, the taxi driver said he would take us all the way to Granada for $40. After a quick discussion that consisted of "sod it, it's Christmas!" we were bombing up the duel carriage way, windows down, sun shining, music playing and smiles on our faces.

Granada is a great place and we got lucky with the hostel - small pool, loads of space and only $20 a night! We arrived by lunchtime, so there was plenty of time for a wander. We were both starving so some nice food was a priority. We stumbled across a posh hotel just off the central park and browsed the menu. Normally the prices would have scared us away, but after another short "sod it, it's Christmas" conversation, we were sitting at a table with more than one set of cutlery each and a leather bound menu trying to decide between whiskey or blue cheese sauce for our expensive steaks! The food was fantastic! Now we had smiles on our faces and full bellies. It was a happy Christmas after all!

Wandering back through the square the heavens opened and we ran for cover where we bumped into a couple we had met in Honduras. We arranged to go out for dinner with them the following day.

Nicaragua was turning out to be fun, a lovely place with lots of people to talk to and nice places to stay. It was unfortunate that we missed a lot of it. I wanted to see Leon, another colonial town, but the man selling the bus tickets told us it didn't go there (it did, and lots of people got off) and I also wanted to go to Ometepe, a volcanic island in a huge lake with beautiful waterfalls and rock pools to swim in, but the buses were mostly full so we had to miss it out in order to be in Costa Rica in time for the start of our tour (four days early!)

We did spend a couple of days at a crater lake called Apoyo which was beautiful. Stunning scenery, clear water and a little beach. The hostel there had a large balcony which over looked the lake with palm trees framing the view perfectly. It was like something from the movies! We spent our time relaxing by the water swinging in hammocks and I ventured out in a kayak for a better view. There were a few expensive looking villas with sailing boats moored outside that were only visible from the lake which wouldn't have been out of place in a James Bond film, but apart from that, we were on our own! Truly a piece of untouched paradise.

The Festive Season in Nicaragua

We stayed in San Pedro Sula for 3 nights, awaiting our connecting bus. We went out a couple of times in the day, but in the evenings everyone generally stayed put inside the hostel. There was a good atmosphere amongst the guests but everyone felt it was like being inside prison, the high barbed wire fences and security cameras hinting at troubles outside. Even the guests who had spent longer than us in Honduras said they felt particularly unsafe in San Pedro. 

Although the final day dragged on, we did eventually get some sleep, only to be woken at 3.30am to be ready for the taxi. Given the high prices, we crammed four of us into a small car for the short drive to the bus station. San Pedro, unlike many Central American cities, has built a large bus station for all the different operators, making it something of a transport hub for the region. By 4.15am we had checked in and awaited our bus. Unfortunately the huge food forecourt was completely shut, so we couldn't pick up a coffee or water to pass the time. 

The bus set off at 5am, remarkably on time for a change, and soon we were speeding down the dual carriageway towards the capital city, Tegucigalpa. We both fell back asleep, although the rattling window kept waking Gemma while a pair of knees in my spine prevented me from getting a good rest. At 9am were were in the capital, and took the opportunity to stretch our legs and grab a cold drink. We didn't wander far, Tegucigalpa didn't appear to be much of an improvement on San Pedro. 

The only highlight came when we spotted the airport, purely because we had seen a documentary about the worlds 10 most dangerous airports which featured a large segment on the difficulties of landing here. Apparently pilots have to undergo specialist training to land here, and we can see why! The approach is between mountains and requires a steep banking manoeuvre despite fluctuating cross-winds, whilst the end of the runway involved a drop, a motorway and the city!

We eventually hit the border at midday. The conductor, an unusually large muscular man for this area, collected everyone's passports and the $15 fee from tourists. We waited outside the bus for his return but were glad to get back onto the air conditioned vehicle 20 minutes later. Unfortunately it didn't last long, we had to get back off on the Nicaraguan side for a baggage check. When we returned to the bus the burly conductor was waiting with an immigration official and our passports. 

We reboarded and everyone began flicking through their passports to see the new stamp. Unfortunately they hadn't stamped inside, just on a border fee receipt, which stated we had paid the $10 border fee. And that really sums up the issue I have with Central America, there are very few people you can trust, it makes you suspicious of everyone you meet. I'm not the most experienced traveller, but I do compare little things to the four months I spent in Africa a few years ago. 

Africa has a reputation for graft, but in fact I'd say the situation out here is worse for your average traveller (at government level it may be different of course). In many parts of Africa that I went through you got the feeling that the people were proud that you had chosen their country and wanted to assist you, to ensure you went back with good memories. Here I feel that I can count on one hand the number of people who have demonstrated similar emotions. Often I have thought that maybe I over romanticized Africa, but travelling here has merely cemented Africa's place in my heart. 

Back on the bus we resumed the voyage to Managua. After a couple of hours we stopped outside Leon, a number of other backpackers jumped off. We hadn't realised you could get off here, with hindsight we should have grabbed our bags and jumped ship. The bus continued on to the capital of Nicaragua, Managua. When we arrived at the station the taxi drivers fought for our attention, following our guidebooks advice we dived into one for the 60 second drive to our hotel, it's a rough area.

We checked in just as the heavens opened, and dived into our room. The Lonely Planet had called this "our pick" of the places to stay in Managua, which was genuinely stunning. It was awful. We thought we had paid a bit extra to stay in a nicer hotel for Christmas, in fact we had been the victims of a cruel joke. Tired, stressed and not looking forward to Christmas day we both fell asleep, despite the fireworks going off around us, sounding more like a Somme recreation.

Whilst other people around the world were opening presents or tucking into huge festive meals, we awoke and began to check out our surroundings. The hotel hadn't improved on the first impression, and the local area looked even worse. After making use of Skype to call our families we decided to move on to Granada. We hailed a taxi, initially intending to go to a different bus station, but then decided the $40 dollar ride out of Managua would be a suitable Christmas gift to ourselves. 

The drive didn't take long, and we checked into a lovely hostel, a beautifully decorated old colonial building, Hungry, we headed out to the most expensive restaurant in town, La Gran Francia, and had a wonderful Christmas Lunch of soups, steaks and cheesecakes. Not the most festive meal ever, but after a week of stress and fear it was a great antidote. Revived, we attempted to have a walk around the beautiful town, but instead headed back to our hostel for a sleep - how festive is that! There is not a great deal I can say about a Nicaraguan Christmas, as we plodded back to the hostel the main square was empty. The only thing that struck us as being any different from other days was the temporary respite from home made firecrackers.

Granada really improved our moods, it felt much safer than anywhere we had been since leaving Guatemala. We visited an old museum, a beautiful church with art and ancient relics, and met up with some friends for dinner one night. After a few days we took a minivan out to Laguna de Apoyo, a lake and nature reserve about half an hour from Granada. We checked into a waterfront hostel and spent a few days relaxing in hammocks, paddling on the lake in Kayaks, and watching out for the local fauna who paid the occasional visit. Apparently 2 days before we arrived they found a tarantula exploring the dorm room. 

We returned to Granada for New Years eve. The hostel relaxed their 11pm lights out policy for one night, but most of the guests celebrated at the time of their home country judging by the cheers coming from anyone near a computer. We treated ourselves to another fancy meal, at the Gran Francia - did I mention they do fantastic steaks? 

We had a couple more days to look around, but by now we had worked out which were the restaurants to avoid, and had seen most of the towns attractions. We planned to catch a boat to Isla de Omotepe, an island formed between two volcanoes, but having wandered down to the Tica Bus station we discovered that we had to leave Nicaragua on the 3rd January, otherwise we wouldn't be able to get out until the 10th, which might have ruined our plans as we have booked a tour of Costa Rica starting on the 7th. 

We're both looking forward to the tour, it's like a holiday within a holiday. We'll be staying in hotels, travelling by private vehicle, and not having to think too much for ourselves. Normally those are the kind of ideals we try to avoid, but as tomorrow marks end of our fourth month on the road we are both going to enjoy not having to make any decisions more strenuous than choosing which drink to accompany our dinner.

Honduras: Back on the Road

After leaving the school we caught a bus up to Panajachel on Lake Atitlan. It's not very far as the crow flies, but twisting around the mountain roads and navigating several traffic jams meant it took nearly 5 hours. By the time we arrived I had a lungfull of exhaust fumes. Fortunately a stroll down to the lake shore cleared me out. The beautiful view from Panajachel, towards 3 volcanoes on the opposite shores, is well worth the effort. 

We spent two nights there, just strolling by the lake and taking the opportunity to eat in restaurants again, the prices far more reasonable than in Antigua. We found an unusual restaurant which served a curious blend of Mayan and Chinese recipes, whilst seated on bamboo benches under a plethora of hanging baskets. The bed (complete with it's very own old Chinese lady) in the corner resembled the scene with the grandparents in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. And the food was delicious, healthy and cheap, not an easy combination to find on the road. 

The main road is littered with craft stalls, all selling the same brightly woven fabrics, hammocks and jewellery. But there isn't a great deal to do in Panajachel apart from trying to avoid the ticket touts. At every step you are asked where you want to go to. Despite the proliferation of large hotels, it would appear as though the only reason to come to Panajachel is to leave it by boat.

Just to be contrary we left it by bus, returning to Antigua for the night. We stayed in a different hostel, on the opposite side of town, in the hope that we might find hot water showers. And this time we struck gold. It's very rare to discover a hostel that I struggle to write anything bad about, but Casa Jacaranda was just that. We had two beds in the room, one hard (for me) and one soft (for Gemma), warm showers, good internet, cable tv, a garden with hammocks and the best free hostal breakfast I think we've found so far (spinach and mozzarella omelette with rosemary potatoes and frijoles, coffee, fruit juice and a bowl of melon - and that was just one of the 3 options). 

Unfortunately we had planned to leave the following day, so we finished a few last minute chores and walked around Antigua checking out the travel agents for prices to Honduras. As so often happens, we eventually booked through one agency, walked around the corner and found the same journey advertised cheaper. We've both noticed how our perspective on finance has changed, and finding something for a few dollars cheaper has assumed a greater importance. 

Nevertheless the following day we set off on the long drive to Copan Ruinas. The planned 7 hours looked a distant prospect when we hit an almighty traffic jam in Guatemala City, but once we were through the worst of it the driver clawed back some time by overtaking on corners and unsighted hills, and driving on the wrong side of the road to skip roadworks. When we finally arrived at the border, alive but with hairs on end, it was dark. The Guatemalan border guard extracted a $2 fee from everyone ahead of us (refusing their requests for a receipt) but had run out of change by the time we flashed our passports at him. 

We walked across to the Honduran side. This time there was no escaping the border fee, but at least it was legitimate and we were given receipts without having to ask. We climbed back aboard the bus and continued on for about 10 minutes more until we reached Copan Ruinas. The driver refused to take everyone to their hostels, preferring to park up outside his commission based hotel, but our hostel owner turned up in his 4x4 to take us to our beds.

The following day we went for a wander around the new town in the new country. We found the central square easily enough, a fairly ugly modern concrete area. The towns museum was closed for remodelling, and the photograph gallery (a gift from a top US University) was also shut, for undetectable reasons. We took a walk up to the castle, but not only was this shut, it wasn't even a castle. Anyone familiar with the clubhouse of the golf course in Newquay can easily picture what this looked like.

We dug out the town map and discovered a butterfly farm on the outskirts, so we walked across town, past the colourful cemetery, and across the main road. In keeping with our day's success it was also shut, so we had a drink in a small roadside cafe next door. Fortunately we spotted the owner of the butterfly farm returning, so we hopped over and followed her through the gate, 

We handed over a small fee, 100 Lempira (about £3) and went inside the office. Here the owner showed us butterflies of different breeds in several stages of life (and death, in the case of the macabre collection of beautiful but deceased butterflies). There were some pupae which looked like delicate little silver earrings. Even with our small amount of Spanish we managed to pick up several verbs which made a huge difference to understanding what was happening with the caterpillars and pupae. 

After the brief explanation we were led out to the butterfly house, a netted area encompassing a large garden. Apparently this was once full of rare orchids, but even without green fingers I could tell they weren't there. Fortunately however we did discover some stunning varieties of butterfly. Some had vivid fluorescent yellow streaks across their black wings, others had terracotta coloured patterns, but by far the most impressive were the creatures with bright turquoise wings on oneside and interpretations of owls eyes on the other, the Blue Morpho. 

In fact there were different varieties of this type, some with the single eye, and others with several eyes. It took quite a lot of effort to get some photographs, partially because they move around in such a carefree fashion, and partly because they kept landing on me when I was lining up a shot! We even saw one of these beautiful insects feeding off a rotten banana. 

The following day we decided to visit our third Maya site. The map suggested it was a 1km walk from town, but it didn't say what a pleasant walk that would be. Crossing a small stream you follow the contour of the road on a well constructed pathway - evidently many other tourists opt to walk it too. Past meadows full of grazing cattle and the occasional roadside stellae (original) and gift-shop, you could quite easily walk past the site were it not for the calls of the local tuk-tuk drivers waiting for a fare in the car park. 

We bought our tickets (£10 each) and followed the path down towards the Grand Plaza. The roadside was lined with Macaws and their cages, and a large number of tourists were queuing up for photos with these beautiful birds. I guess after working for just a few days at Arcas I couldn't really get excited about seeing this, so I walked past in a huff. 

When the path opened up into the grand plaza, my initial impression was vastly underwhelming. There was a tiny little pyramid in the centre and a few stellae off to one side. But I'm pleased to say that on closer inspection the stellae were the most beautiful, detailed ones we had seen so far. Some still had a crust of the red paint which would have adorned them originally, and as the plaza floor would have been painted white you can imagine how impressive these must have looked more than a thousand years ago.

We followed the suggested route which took us around the back of a hill, covered in foliage but with a distinctly man-made shape, hinting at another pyramid to be excavated, and returned back out at the other side of the grand plaza near the ball court. We climbed up some rocks for a good view of this impressive structure, which is considered one of the best preserved ball courts in Mayan sites. Although the sides weren't as steep as we had seen before, they were adorned with huge Macaw heads.

While we were stood admiring the Macaws we noticed a large temple which was partially covered by an enormous canvas. We clambered over to see what was being hidden and were amazed to discover a huge staircase full of statues. Gradually, as our eyes began to focus in the darkness, we noticed that into each step had been carved a heiroglpyh. A small sign indicated that these hieroglyphs told the history of the imaginatively named rulers of Copan from Great-Sun First Quetzal Macaw, past Waterlilly-Jaguar and 18 Rabbit to Smoke Squirrel. 

The staircase was truly stunning, every time you moved your eyes something new and wonderful seemed to appear before them, the level of effort that must have gone into it was admirable. Even noticing that the occasional step was missing didn't take away from it's beauty, you can't expect every heiroglpyh to have survived for so long. 

Unfortunately the rest of the site was hard pressed to impress as this much again. We strolled around climbing over temples and palaces finding more and more carvings (the one which looked like a mouse on steroids was apparently a mythical jaguar god), but we soon reached the end of our tether for Mayan sites. The sun burning us to a crisp and the humidity making the most casual stroll feel like a run up a sand dune, we decided to call it a day and made our way back to the entrance for a reviving drink. 

Sat in the restaurant Gemma recalled being told about a recreation of one of the burial tombs in the museum, so we walked over to the museum and found we needed a separate ticket for that. In frustration I sat on the stone seat while Gemma went back to the site entrance for our tickets. The security guard found it hilarious that I had dumped myself down while Gemma went back, his laughter didn't stop until she returned. 

Inside the museum, following a twisting tunnel (a recreation of one of many that the archaeologists made inside the real temples) the museum suddenly opens up before your eyes, to reveal a mock up of one of the tombs found inside the main temple. This recreation has been painted in the original colours, mostly bright red but with greens, yellows and whites decorating the exterior carvings. Whilst it was interesting to see how the buildings would have been painted in their original state, if felt a little like a Disney version of a Mayan temple. 

Far more impressive for me were the more delicate stone carvings which had been removed from the site for safekeeping and now resided inside the museum. These ranged from a huge bat with wings spread open, to a man wearing a bird hat (the bird eating a fish, surrounded by cascading waters). Animals, and indeed nature in general, were massively important to the Maya people, as can be seen by some of the rulers names which I mentioned earlier. 

After visiting the museum we walked back into town, packed up our bags and moved into a hotel for a night, after a somewhat aggressive confrontation with a hostel guest who refused to turn his music down. This ageing old hippie, who preached love for his "brothers" and ranted at the commercialisation of the world failed to appreciate that his "brothers" might not enjoy Whitney Houston at full volume at 8am, or see the contradiction in completely taking over the common space with his eclectic assortment of electric appliances (waffle iron, sandwich toaster, smoothie maker) to the point that no-one else could sit down. 

We felt immediately more comfortable with our new surroundings, and returned to our favourite cafe for dinner. Via Via was a lovely place to eat and waste some time, and the food was excellent and cheap (my favourite combination). Unfortunately we had to put ourselves to bed, due to a very early start. Just before bedtime Gemma gave me a birthday present, a lovely little chessboard featuring two teams of Conquistadors and Mayans, which I had been admiring in a local shop earlier in the evening. 

By 5.30am (not a great time to start your birthday) we were waiting outside the bus station, and half an hour later we set off towards San Pedro Sula. The drive was boring, a little bumpy, and punctuated by awful pop music played over the loudspeaker system, so we were relieved to reach San Pedro at 10am. We were immediately swamped by taxi drivers, somewhat overwhelmingly, and decided to book our onwards ticket straight away. Unfortunately the bus to Nicaragua was full for a few days, so we had to settle for a ticket on Christmas Eve, a 12 hour drive to look forward to!

After a quick coffee we found the driver who had held a door open for us earlier and got into a taxi he recommended. It was a short drive to our hostel, located in one of the safer neighbourhoods, although still not advisable to go out out after dark without a taxi. In the evening we went to Denny's for a birthday dinner, and since then we have just hung around the hostel, taking the occasional daytime walk to see not much in particular. There isn't a great deal to do in San Pedro, and we are trying not to withdraw more money as we will be in Nicaragua soon enough. 

So, on Christmas eve while everyone in settling down with a drink and some tv, we'll be trying to sleep on the Tica Bus and crossing another border before checking into a nice hotel in Managua (with a swimming pool) and hoping to find something resembling a turkey! Right now I'd settle for a Bernard Mathews Turkey Drummer. Until then we'd like to wish everyone at home a very merry Christmas indeed. We'll think of you as we dive into the pool!