Ticabus did the job. We were whisked north across the border into Honduras and onwards to our next stop. The general advice on Honduras that we had received was to avoid it. Consequently images of a sun baked, treeless, rubbish filled, unfriendly and charmless place had been created in our minds. Instead we discovered a damp, verdant, cared for, hospitable and endearing land. We had jumped off Ticabus at Lago de Yojoa to be seamlessly connected by shuttle bus and then by something akin to a three wheeled go-cart to D&D’s Brewery the micro-brewery cum hostel that we had targeted for
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