¡No mames!

so we are here in utilaaa. which is kind of like ko tao, thailand, except minus the beaches everywhere, and obviously replace thai people with honduranians. i arrived after a ridiculously long series of flights from the lowlands- AMS to heathrow, heathrow to miami--where a 5 hour layover proved a great opporunity to call everyone i hadn't spoken with in ages and i discovered an at least 3 star hotel-esque shower in the admirals club lounge (much welcome after already 11 hours of flight time) but finally it was off via business class (free upgrades-i'm not that posh) to san pedro sula, honduras. so like 20 some odd hours later I was there. except jeff wasn't. we were supposed to meet up at the airport but i couldn't seem to get a hold of him via my blackberry... i dial but i just hear spanish voices. i exit the airport hoping maybe he's there since it's already 8pm, but no dice. luckily i randomly have my dutch phone with me so I fire it up and send out an international call to jeff. ringing. a good sign. then he picks up- which means at least he-s somewhere in the country. or in the vincinity of the country. turns out he and pete are still stuck on a chicken bus somewhere about an hour from san pedro sula. they'd been in guatemala the day before and on busses since 6am that morning. because i'm not keen on spending any more time in airports i take a cab out to town to the tamarind inn on some side street in a shady (tree shady, and yes kind of shady shady too) neighborhood. after some confusion with the elderly, toothless honduranian lady at the front gate, i confirm that yes, there is space for three people. for one night. good.

so i drop my backpack off in the room, grab a magazine and perch myself out on the front porch in the languid heat to wait for my fellow weary travelers. about another hour later (quite good i didn't wait for them at the airport), they show up, looking, well, weary. i meet pete, jeff's best friend who's been traveling slash living in central america for the past 4 months. we all embrace then decide it's too hot out to stand around outside, so they drop their stuff off and we go in search of food. which unfortunately isn't all that readily available at 10:30 at night. so we walk a few blocks down dark streets, passing at least one uncovered manhole and at least 2 trucks filled with people carrying shotguns (local militia-no worries, they don't want anything to do with us) and finally we find a place with horrendous hospitalesque neon lighting but definte food. jeff and pete, being more starved than i with my scallops and shrip risotto in business class, chow down some food. we marvel at scandalous 80's music videos playing on a huge tv screen in this fast food place then head out to grab a few beers, cash, and water before heading back to the hostel-hotel. about an hour later we find our way back after definitely passing yet another truck full of armed youth (this time with ski masks and full camo-love it) and we drink our salva vidas beers on the porch before calling it a night.

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