Introduction to Honduras (July 2)

Early in the morning of July 2, we flew first from San Jose, Costa Rica to San Salvador, El Salvador, where the Honduras-bound half of the group connected to a flight for San Pedro Sula, Honduras. For the first time, I got window seats with a view not completely blocked by the wings (my last name begins with ‘K’) and was exceedingly comfortable since we had business class tickets. The thirty minutes or so of sleep I got during the flight were then enough to sustain me through the remainder of the day.

A volcano rises above the surrounding terrain

Our ride from San Pedro Sula to Olanchito was full of surprises.

 Much to my surprise, the overall infrastructural development of Honduras, except for water treatment of course, seems quite good. Roads are generally wide, well leveled, and smooth, with a few rough patches from time to time. The condition and quality of all the roads we travelled are better, in my opinion, than the roads of Costa Rica, and even compare favorably with roads in the United States. Of course, some factors that contribute to poor road quality are not relevant here, such as freeze-thaw cycles.

 Another surprise is that from what I have seen of Honduras so far, the country is nowhere nearly as ‘fortified’ as Costa Rica is. I have yet to see neighborhoods of razorwire-covered buildings or glass-sharded, concrete walls in Honduras. Instead, fences and doors are in common use, signifying that perhaps that type of crime is less of a problem here.

The roadside was lined with animals. After having passed a few horses grazing by the side of the road, our car came to a sudden halt for a small herd of cattle claiming the right-of-way. This made me curious as to how cattle owners could keep track of their herds and prevent them from mixing with one another, and José answered me that the cows simply don’t ever go very far from where they start. The horses seemed to be primarily for use in transportation, and were often tied to a post by the side of the road instead of roaming freely as the cows did. We shared the road with several horse-drawn carriages and riders on horseback, however none of the horses are spooked by car traffic whatsoever.

On our way from La Ceiba to Olanchito, we passed through a number of checkpoints, which consisted of neon-green cones in the center of the road surrounded by military/police personnel with bullet-proof vests, high-powered rifles, and machine guns. Each time, as we were motioned to stop, Jose would open all of the car’s windows so that the men could inspect the interior. Seeing nothing suspicious they would wave us on. Jose told us that these checkpoints were an attempt to curb narco-trafficking in the area.

Less of a surprise was continued crazy driving. While motorcycles in Costa Rica use their size and speed to whizz by and weave through other traffic, the motorcycles in Honduras are generally slow, and have thus incurred a standardized method of being passed by faster traffic. Whenever approaching a motorcycle from behind, José would honk a few times, signaling for the motorcycle to go to the edge of the road as he passed only partially entering the other lane. We passed in this manner without regard to any oncoming traffic (except semi-trucks and buses), since the oncoming cars were expected to go partly onto the shoulder if necessary in order to courteously avoid head-on collisions. We also passed slower cars, groups of cars, and busses in the same manner.

Many people also travelled on the road by bicycle or on foot. While approaching at many times their speed, the only warning they got from us were a few quick honks moments before we passed. In one instance, the characteristic ‘zig-zag’ motion of a cyclist pedaling in low gear caused him to go first to the left and into our path before being very narrowly missed by us as he veered off the road to the right. Our average speed during all of this was between 100 and 140 kilometers per hour, which would normally make me uncomfortable except that Jose is a professional ambulance driver.

The events of our journey were also of interest. We stopped to buy from several roadside fruit vendors, and José and Maria treated us to some tasty Honduran selections. The first was a unique fruit covered with soft, long, redish-purple spines. Forcefully squeezing the fruit would break the skin, which I worried would squirt juice everywhere inside the car. Instead, breaking the skin revealed a semi-transparent, whitish orb of tissue, which could be plopped into the mouth by squeezing the fruit on the side opposite the hole in the skin. The fruit had a sweet flavor and contained a pitted seed in the center of the orb. At another stand, they bought specially prepared coconuts for us. A woman with a large machete ‘peeled’ the coconut with a few broad, swift strokes, cut off the top portion, and then inserted a straw. Unfortunately, my coconut was grazed a little too closely with the machete on the bottom side, and leaked the milk out all over my lap and the seat. When done with the coconut, Jose told us to cast them out the window since they were simply organic waste. I did so after checking to make sure that throwing the window wouldn’t waylay a hapless pedestrian or cyclist on the road’s shoulder.

Before long, we also stopped to buy several garbage bags as a cover for our luggage in the back of the truck as a storm approached. When we stopped in La Ceiba to eat lunch at Pizza Hut, the bags also served to prevent theft of our luggage, since the truckbed (which we continued to watch anyway from inside the restaurant) appeared to be full of garbage.

The landscape of Honduras is very beautiful and perhaps even better than that of Costa Rica depending on one’s tastes. Although mountains are everywhere in sight, there are many considerably flat areas, creating a pleasant juxtaposition. There are also many big, slow, windy rivers, whereas Costa Rica had primarily small, fast, deep-set rivers and streams. After I had shown an initial interest, Jose took care to point out to me several interesting kinds of local plants, including palm trees for producing palm oil, sugarcane, corn varieties, and others.

At our homestay, Tom and I were very surprised by our accommodations. We have something like a hotel room with its own bathroom and shower, door, and windows. Our room, which is its own building, is within a small complex containing a few other rooms for rent and the living quarters of Maritza, our host mother. There are a few maids, and each time we expected to meet Maritza, we instead met another maid. They asked us what we wanted for dinner, and as we weren’t picky we were served cheese, cheese sauce, scrambled egg, refried beans, tortillas, and juice. We could not finish the amount of food we were given, though it was very tasty. Also, our complex is quite safe, being surrounded by a tall concrete wall with a cast-iron gate which closes in the night.

Maritza's fortress

We were cautioned about the water (wearing cotton ear-protection during showers is recommended), mosquitoes (dengue fever is common during June and July), and heat, but all other aspects of our accommodation are excellent and far surpassing our expectations, as well as surpassing the conditions in which many of the other groups are operating. The water we can treat equivalently to bathing in a lake or river, the mosquitoes are prevented by screens from entering our rooms as we sleep, and the heat is little worse than what I experienced as a camp counselor in the summer of 2009.

One woman living at our complex, Maria, is an anchorwoman for a one-hour news program. She told us to practice our Spanish a lot so that she could interview us on the news before we left.