Getting There

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Introduction

I did not need a vacation; I love my work and my life. My thought was just to visit Maureen on her Christmas break from teaching. The trip was much more. I do want to share my wonder full travel experience and yet I know immediately I cannot. What can I share about a beautiful place you have not seen? I can ramble on about azure skies and vibrant foliage or get all National Geographic on you about native tooth cleaning techniques. Yes, the visuals have a chance; they can be represented by photos or descriptions. How should I describe Atitlan bird calls all day or Cofradian roosters all night, the warmth of country tropical breezes or stench of urban diesel, the buzz of mercados and bus terminals. The sweet aromas of a panadora, the tasty baleadas or Christmas tamales. Honestly, if you really want to know what anywhere is like, just Go There.

In the end I wrote this blog for myself—to digest, to remember. It may be overwritten with a bit of magical realism ─ David Eggers meets Gabriel García Márques ─ but this is what makes writing fun. 😊 Even so, everything stated here

actually happened, except the penicillin and the armadillo. This blog follows along geographically and the text is topical, pausing for a paragraph about food here or politics there. Move and zoom in these Google maps all you want to discover exactly where we were. Stay in the satellite view.

The trip

Not shown is the flight from SFO to SAP, the airport code for San Pedro Sula, which is the nearest city to Cofradia, Maureen's town. Locals call it "San P." I do like being abroad; but I barely tolerate getting there. I feel the plane ride is the most dangerous part of the trip. I actually brought a mask for germs but never used it. A DVT is always possible for me, but now I give myself a shot before, so I at least feel safe. I flew Taca Airlines which goes almost direct, through San Salvador, just so I wouldn’t have to take an American airline, all of which go through Miami. The airport code there is MIA, which tells you all you need to know. Besides, Taca is 2/3 the cost and serves free drinks. I’ve never had a problem with Taca but you will

hear that Katie’s father did. Honduran stewardesses are sultry and warm. Downside: they live in their cars. The flight departed SFO at 12:30 am and arrived in SAP at 11 am. SAP customs took almost an hour for international passengers, perhaps heightened security due to the political situation? The agent asked me standard questions and I answered them. Then she gave me The Look: suspicion. I know this Look has been tossed at millions of immigrants and foreign tourists, at least I could do my penance. The agent must have been a trainee. Her supervisor took over and, with an air of confident authority, he asked me exactly the same questions and I gave exactly the same answers. This seemed to work out, except now they both gave me The Look, but they were going to let me in anyway.

Maureen had arranged for someone to pick me up. No one did. So I waited. Maureen did not say who would pick me up; did she give them my name or description? I did ask a few folks if they were waiting for me. After some very strange looks I realized that a grey haired gringo looking anxious and foolish after a twelve hour flight and a triple scotch would be easily spotted. My cell phone, which I had used to call Maureen from the states did not work here because I did not have a local carrier. I borrowed a money changer’s cell phone and left a message with Maureen. I settled in to read The Spiritual Traveler, given to me by a friend for situations such as this. One line reads “You have not begun the journey until you have met a challenge.” OK, I guess I have begun the journey. After two hours and half the book, I was done with challenge. I took a cab to Cofradia for $40. Sorry, friend, I forgot the book in the airport. It served its purpose for me, and could be halfway to Australia by now. Like the Red Violin.

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Comments

[Marcia]

I love that you noted that you love your work. Says a lot about you. For me, one of the air travel nightmares is the no-one-there-to-pick-me-up nightmare. Handled it very graciously, you did.