rgesley

The Igbo say the place where one wakes up is home. Eyes flipped open to dawn. “My last day” I said to no one. Somehow odd to know the way to school finally only to use this knowledge once. Diagonal across the park, turn right, along the creek, past sheep foraging in the garbage. I passed the old cigar factory, one of the only two factories in the town. Three hombres still sat under the jacaranda tree with "Huelga" placards, (“on strike”). The factory had closed down several months before and they were protesting non-payment of wages. The lucky ones had received half their wages, all paid in cigars. These men simply had nothing better to do and it sort of looked like work. It was overcast, in the sixties, what the gringos called a beautiful ... read more

We were finally returning to Honduras...we hope, we hope. Maureen had received an email from Michael, BECA Director, who doubted very much that Guatemalan technology could “alert” the borders (his quotes). Still, I felt, you never know. After all the anticipation, the border was a breeze. So we were victims of our gullibility, probably what was intended. The bus rolled down the eastern coast, not far from where a 7.3 quake had struck offshore six months ago.. I became reflective, preparing for a departure mindset. I glanced at Maureen listening to her iPod, gazing across the aisle toward a calm Caribbean sea. The thought “How special you are” crept across my trance, turned around, and passed before me again. Tears came up but not out and I turned away. When I felt her eyes in the ... read more

Gallon Jug to Livingston The same pilot flew us to Punta Gorda, Belize, turning a twelve hour bus ride into a 90 minute flight. She flew between cloud layers, average altitude of 3500’, and over paved roads “just in case.” Along the way she talked to other pilots about changing weather conditions and listened to other pilots chatter to each other so that we could fly around micro weather systems that normal airliners just plow through. One cloud bank was not so micro, too wide to fly around and too tall to fly over. We plunged into a squall, pitching and yawing, buffeted in almost total darkness, until one instant, through an invisible door, plopped into clear sky and still air. Luckily, we arrived at 10 am, just in time for 10:30 ferry. This border crossing ... read more

Guides and birds We had individual guides. I do like to start with guides, not so much for the information, but more to chat them up about their lives. Here, the guides grew up in the jungle, swimming, he said, with the crocodiles. That evening we took Night Walk which was a bit spooky, with flashlights, rain dripping, howler monkeys in the back ground, looking for jaguar eyes in the darkness. Maybe we would see the armadillo here. We only saw wolf spiders, bats, and crocodiles. Wolf spider eyes could reflect a flashlight beam from a hundred feet. Dark, slippery in the mud, I fell and cracked my view finder. I now had a 1950’s camera and I did not know when batteries were low. I don't have any of the photos I took on the ... read more

We took a minibus, which unfortunately meant that the seats and clearance we also mini. People staying in hotels were picked up first, so we were picked up last and got the worst seats. Seems only fair. Besides being wiped out from my adventure, I became mildly panicked about getting a blood clot sitting with my knees to my nose for two and a half hours. I should have given myself a shot but that was in my luggage back at the bus station. Tikal Ruins We hooked up with three other riders and hired a private guide. Tikal ruins are larger and more famous than Copan, but less impressive to our now experienced archeological eyes, having visited two whole sites. Taller temples, more monkeys, and more jungle than you could shake a stick at. Or ... read more