Ok, So here I am with a cup of Tea and a Gingernut. At home in front of my Computer still with so many tales of my Adventure to put into words. if only I could Just plug a Usb cable into my right ear and have all of the amazing memories just load straight onto my blog. (not that I don't enjoy writing, actually I really Do) it is just that for the past week since returning home all of the memories seem to have transfered to my "monkey Mind" all disorganized and just spilling out of my mouth in no particular order, just triggered by very simple little situations.
The Good news is, You are going to read of these tales straight from my Mid-term memory. As endearingly pointed out by my Guatemalan Travel Companion Sammy... I am; as the tittle Suggests "a bit of a gold fish" when it comes to my short term memory. every time we would board a bus, boat or donkey throughout central america, I would idiocyncratically stash my ticket in an illogical place, and then moments later start a mild panic when the conductor or the like would start his approach to collect tickets. Sammy, who deserves so much mention as he was such a fun part of my way from Antigua to San Jose, Would chuckle at me each time and repeat "hey look A castle, look a castle, no way... no I've never seen that castle" as if I was a gold fish in a tiny bowl. very funny Sammy. Thank you for teaching me the Art of always putting my bus ticket In the front pocket of my mexican satchel.
Enough of that, where were we?
Oh I had just advised everyone against Utila Island Honduras,
It was from here Basically two full days of travel to get to the destination that is was most excited about, Granada Nicaragua. After a boat and a few buses and taxis, we made it to an overnight stop town Just inside of the southern boarder of Honduras. Comayagua. I hadn't loved Honduras, however surprisingly in that day of travel I was able to start to appreciate its beauty and adorable people. I chatted for a few hours with a local Boy on the bus who told me everything he could to make me change my answer to his question of "what is your favorite country so far?" when I had replied Mexico to this, the Country Proud young university student with Spanish green eyes was determined he could change my mind by telling me all he could about Honduras... pointing out all of the beautiful natural landmarks we were passing. so sweet, and a little annoying.
We arrived in Comayagua in the afternoon, Settled in to the Hotel, and went out for a wander. Comayagua is well off the tourist trail, It was weird to feel like such an alien. The Shouts From men In the streets went from A bit cute to a little threatening, So it was now time for me to exercise some of the Single woman travel Smart info that had been piled onto me back home before leaving. even popping into the Supermarket to get some fruit for the next days Huge Journey was an experience, every single Honduran man in the store was trying to help me, talk to me and I swear the girl at the checkout didn't really know what to do when I approached. Strange!
The nice thing about the town not really being set up for tourists was being able to have a good look at how they all dwell in this tiny city. families all milling in the afternoon around the Circular Zocalo, which had lovely piped in musica coming from the well kept gardens. A few elderly men with their white cowboy hats sat chatting and winking at me. two young lovers sat swirling their toes in the fountain while groups of younger girls teased them and loudly ran away from the subsequent splashes of water that were fired at them by the embarrassed boy.
I chose to eat at the most authentic looking restaurant that evening in the Zocalo next to the Cathedral, I chatted with an American guy, who was working and living there, and was happy to enlighten me on the realities of the area, apparently our rushing through Honduras had us missing some amazing natural springs set in the Volcano that the town was actually built in, also some amazing beaches. he also Spoke of a new highway being built through Honduras the Affect it would have on the city. And trade throughout all of Central America. Very Interesting. I was also happy to hear about his friends who had amazing properties in the area complete with Pet Monkeys. The gentleman that he was payed for my dinner, before I could Stop Him invited me for a Drink. which I declined bearing in my mind the next day would be 16 hours of Chicken buses, and with he recent reality of the state I could get myself into when Drinking with boys from the US.
Chicken
Surprising a 16 our Day with a sore Bum in some of the Doggiest vehicles ever, with a painful boarder Crossing into the poorest country in Central America Can be one of the Best days I had. Admittedly, I am a true Intrepid traveler My buzz always comes from the most uncomfortable experiences, the ones with the most culture shock. where you really get to Live and see the way the rest of the World live.
So how do they Live? ... well these crazy Central Americans have all sorts of quirks to be seen from hard seat of an old American school Bus.
First Of all... It's loud in there, Apart from the roaring old engine operating in a gear far too low the whole way, or the squeaky wheels and shuddering Windows, there is booming reggeaton playing through the very capable speakers at the front of the Bus. I love the Way High quality speakers obviously take Priority over getting the Buses Wheels serviced. You are crammed three to a tiny seat with the locals, With people crammed standing the aisles and the conductor somehow manages to move through all of these sardines, knowing exactly who has already shown there ticket and who hasn't. On one chicken bus just after the Nicaraguan boarder A priest Jumped on, and as the Bus bumpily moved down through the hills still with its pounding reggaeton, he Preached Passionately, everyone's eyes and hearts listening, Him crossing himself, Wiping away the rivers of sweat pouring off of his forehead and holding on for dear life. He was so passionately delivering his words that I swear I could almost understand all of the Spanish that he was speaking. When his sermon was given, he moved through the crammed bus shaking everybody's hands and handing out offering envelopes. To my surprise, once the offerings were collected and the bus had stopped to let people on and off. He started the whole thing over again.
The last chicken bus ride was the longest, I sat crammed against the window on a seat with three local teenage girls each of them taking a turn at sitting on the two others knees, they giggled and smiled at me, and laughed and spoke as if it were all about boys etc. I found it entertaining enough to make me not care too much that I had run my ipod out of battery, but not enough to make me forget just how sore my pompitas was on the particularly hard seat. We finally got off the bus on the side of a highway in Managua, Nicaragua's capital. right at a highway side street food market, all of the vendors shouting "pollo pollo", as they did everywhere in central america, stand there loudly in monotone reciting the menu to passers by. "tostadas con pollo y carne o jamon, flor de jamaica hoy pescado" etc etc
Us with our packs were spotted by a pack of independent collectivo owners who started yelling and circling us, grabbing at our packs to try and secure our business, each of them in fierce competition lowering their prices and offering the world. all we wanted was to go an hour down the road to Granada! huh, the winning gentleman loaded our packs into the van and off we went, the sun was setting so we arrived in the pretty city to see the beautiful street lights dully illuminating the beautifully coloured colonial buildings and cobbled streets. I was excited, It felt San Cristobal or Antigua, I love the Colonial Cities. As always mentioned in any Publication with writings of Granada the locals were all out the front of their casas in rocking chairs or leaning in the doorways, chatting and watching the world go by.
We settled into our Hotel which was very central, across the road from all of the Restaurants and two blocks from the Zocalo and Cathedral.
At dinner that night out on the path outside, we were entertained my groups of break-dancing local boys. who stopped all of the passing cars to put their show on for us. they had no music, instead the group would clap out the beat.
