Diving and the game of Kings

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I get it now… I understand where to meet the travelling female. I understand now the better way to innocently communicate. For years I’ve been slugging it out on the cheap shitty local buses getting to know the local way of life all the while missing that elusive single travelling female. The rarity of seeing a young, attractive, good personality single travelling female has been limited for the 4 and a half years of on and off travelling in the past 9.



As JP5 comes to a close I realised that I should have mixed it up a bit, especially in Central America. I should have taken more of the tourist shuttles to get from A to B. I learnt this when my sister and David joined up with me and we took the tourist shuttle for our first venture into the rest of Central America.



For the first 2 months of my Central America trip I was out of luck. If there was a girl I got along with she was going the absolute other way. Now I was with my sister and her fiancé it was obvious all the possibilities to hang around or stay a few more days to see what happens would be now be dashed.



It starts off with the shuttle where two single females hop on. This was the first time since my first ride in Panama that travelling females had entered the same bus as me. We headed to the Mayan site of Copan, which is across the border in Honduras.



Copan is less impressive than other Mayan sites but its legacy is its Mayan sculptures and artistic craftsmanship that has lasted all these years. It was a Classical period kingdom from 4^th to 9^th century AD.



A nicely cut lawn is your entrance with a small temple – structure 4 – A bunch of Stelae surround this Grand Plaza, which enables you to see statues of 18 Rabbits the big king of the kingdom.



Between structure 9 and 10 is a ball court where I was begging to see a real game. Two stone ramps lead down toward a worn out grass lane with two tops of pyramids at the top of the ramp.



A massive tarpaulin covers the largest temple – temple 26 – It has a giant hieroglyphics staircase that’s blocked off to the public. From there it is like an eccentric artists impression of a Mayan ruin. Trees – giant ones – have penetrated the ruins and some dodgy maintenance work meant that instead of a structured pyramid it looks like a grey rippled swamp of stone coloured water elevated high in the sky.



The View on top of Temple 11 is probably the best view on the site looking down through the trees. The Acropolis is a nice resting point but as you can read Mayan culture hadn’t captured me at this point of the trip.



Honduras was more so the cliché trip you’d do and that is to catch a morning bus to La Ceiba for the Bay Islands. To get here was not straight forward since we went the hard way. It was enjoyable to see how my sister would handle first the mini bus, than the big bus followed by a slightly comfortable bus.



The east of the country is the economic stronghold of the country and the bus station at San Pedro Sula is large and impressive. The roads are good and there are a few shopping centres and major fast food chains.



Contrast that to the capital Tegucigalpa and its nice that the tourist trail misses it (unless coming up from Nicaragaua). The local papers always have a crime story front page about the capital. Drug cartels and petty crime is rampant. The last day in Honduras I heard that a fire in the gaol 60 miles north of the capital killed at least 350 people burning them to death in their cells. One being a Guatemalan prisoner who was given a stay of deportation in an American court and was wrongfully deported. But that’s another story.



The cheap island in the Bay of islands is Utila, its known as the cheapest places to get diving courses and fun dives. When you arrive it is a barrage of touts trying to get you to go to their dive shop.



We went with the local run shop Parrots and we are informed quickly that there is no room for accommodation. So after thinking then why the hell did you try and make the big sell on us, we move on leaving our bags whilst we searched for something else. We get back and the owner says, “Give me one more chance, just 5 minutes and we’ll find you a place to stay. I’ll buy you a beer whilst you wait.”



It’s all a bit too much really but he finds a place around the corner for $7 a night each and $4 off every day we dive. But whilst we waited 3 girls hang around us so we don’t leave. It kind of felt like a brothel set up where you chat to a girl to see who you like before you commit to the deal. A couple of local girls and a Swedish girl. David and Eleni got the enthusiastic locals and I was contained by the Blonde Swedish girl with all smiles. On this pathetic selling technique I could have walked but the island was busy and a few other places were booked out so we took the deal up.



The island is really small and narrow, so with so many people around it doesn’t capture your imagination of a Caribbean island. There are only two dirt streets that you’d travel on. One goes the length of the island on the south side, the other cuts the island for a little. Both are annoying pedestrian walks as motorbikes mostly and golf carts buzz by you as if they have to go 3 hours away and that’s why they are in a hurry… It takes 15 minutes to walk the length of the island.



I would personally go crazy on this island for any longer than a week and the site of many long term residents here hooked up on drugs is clear. There are a few transvestites too. So really diving was the only purpose here.



We did 4 dives all up. Because of their reputation (as the cheapest place in the world) they are very strict on the rules to dive. The first dive I did is for advanced divers only and that meant that Eleni and David did a different dive. I went with the deep wreck dive of Halliburton. Actually when they tried to put the refresher course act on me since I hadn’t dived for a year I put the ole pissed off dribbleman face on and they stopped that talk.



We descend and immediately at the bottom we hover around a skeleton of a baby whale. For wreck diving it is an average dive but was good to get another dive under the belt. The highlight was at the captain’s deck where two massive dog snappers guarded the area. Their eyes glaring and teeth showing, I wouldn’t dare penetrate.



The second dive was at Airport Cave, which had coral for a change. But the coral here is not really outstanding. There seems to have been too many beginner divers here and the coral seems damaged. The highlight of this dive was the early part where we (for some reason) went in the dark narrow cave.



I was thinking shit this is quite tough than I quickly thought of Eleni and David. For the past few days I had to hear them talk about they need to build a bit more confidence so with that I figured I needed to make sure they are okay. The person in front of me I could hardly see accept this glimpse of yellow fin. So at this point I decided to hover in that position to make sure they are aware that it is okay to come in and turn left.



My attempts to help ended up doing the opposite. Eleni was okay but the room in the cave was too small for me to wait for David or Eleni to move by me. So I had to go. The only way I could move was with little fin kicks. With that some sand from the bottom comes up making the view even worse. I exit so too does Eleni but where’s David?



We wait and wait, the Dive master has no idea, and eventually David pops out with another Dive master. I was so pissed off with the Dive master of ours. If he knew it was going to be that tight he should have had the least experienced at the front so these problems could be avoided. I cant’ really remember the rest of the dive apart from me helping my sister with her buoyancy.



That is also the problem with diving here. The dives generally have 6 people with one dive master. I’ve been fortunate to dive with less than that for all my dives thus far. The fewer divers the better the experience.



There are two sides to dive here the south, the most common, and the north, which is dependent on the weather. I was told that the coral is much better on the north but I think that is a lie. The dives were more memorable for the things on the boat or a dive master stuff up.



Sure we saw a nurse shark in the cloudy cave, a green turtle, a range of fish and coral gradually dying. We even were able to see the dive master do spear fishing for lionfish which is on a kill on sight basis if you have the permit. They have been responsible for killing off the aquatic wildlife… minus the humans of course.



But again the highlight involved David. Our $7 ($4) a night guesthouse opened its kitchen at 8am – no good for the 630am departure. So my genius idea was to boil eggs the previous night and have boiled eggs in the morning… That was all we had, no bread, just eggs.



Between dives rumours were that dolphins are around so for a tip of $4 each (which we did not pay $12 between us to jump in with dolphins that were next to our boat. Petrol they say… right) So since this is on the north side it’s a bit rocky. We jump in once but it’s too late. Twice, the same story. The third time I’m like no, David’s the same. I’m think so after I’m better off being in the water than on the boat so I jump in. David informs later that he had vomited over the other side whilst everyone was off the boat.



It’s time for dive two and I jump in very early. I start drifting away from the boat with my back turned. Eleni and David are doing their buddy check. Whilst David is checking Eleni he pushes her aside and chunks up some big ones. Eleni turns around and yells at me in the distance, “Hey Drew! You’re going to have to be my buddy, David’s not feeling well!” I turn around and gingerly say, “Ooohh okay!” I turn back to my drifting position and dry reach desperately trying to throw myself into feeling better but it just wouldn’t go.



I have my back turned and kick against the current to Eleni who now informs me David had a change of heart. Had I not been feeling so ill to begin with I would have told David that he’s better off diving than staying on the boat - We heard a story of this Canadian girl who vomited in her regulator every time she was underwater. Apparently its wonderful natural way to attract fish.



I don’t think I’ve mentioned this before but I do have a distain towards most dive masters. I’m not sure if it’s the stale air they breathe in an hour and a half each day but it creates this annoying attitude that is a real dive master trait.



They seem to think they know it all. They are the best; they are Mr suave, God’s gift to woman. Actually most of the woman dive masters are okay if they are not than they are arrogant bitches like the Italian one in Mozambique. The problem too with them is that some take it on their travels too. I’ve done it a few times after a brief conversation I’ve gone, “Oh no you are definitely a dive master aren’t you.”



This English twat I met a month earlier would finish his sentences with “U no wat I mean?” He would just dominate the conversations, I wasn’t part of his group at this hostel but it was just his voice was overbearing.



There is something about this place that makes people stay. I don’t know what it is, the nightlife sucked and there was something incestuous about it. Most people had stinger marks on them including myself which made looking at woman’s bodies less enjoyable and that was until our last night.



I met an English guy who was in the process of getting a dive master. He had been here before and told me about Baleadas as his staple food of choice so we followed suit. A simple Honduras meal similar to most Mexican style meals, some beans, egg, cream cheese and meat in a pastry wrapping. On the last night we had gathered a group of around 8 and the UK guy just moved into a small house and said we should come for his house warming.



We didn’t get pissed for the 4 previous nights we were here. But with the knowledge that we had a 630am ferry the next day, tonight would be the night. It wasn’t really a massive night or a massive party but what happened here is a story.



We were playing a game of cards “in between or outside” and gambling sips of drinks. When along comes the British guys Icelandic lesbian roommates. They introduce the game of Kings. Now, what is it with Europeans and especially Scandinavians with the game Kings? They always introduce it.



Basically each number or face card has a corresponding meaning some good some bad. One is you can make a rule. Half way through the game my sister and David go outside and I continue playing when during a day dream one of the Swedish guys pick up the last of the rule cards. Knowing that there will be no payback rule for the rest of the game he chooses this one. “Everyone for the rest of the game has to play topless.”



Now I was day dreaming, who knows, when all of a sudden I have one of the Icelandic lesbians breasts in front of me. I’m like “What’s just happened?” I look around and everyone is topless. So I follow suit and there you have it thedribbleman has 4 woman topless, two of which are Icelandic lesbians and my sister is on the other side of the door.



How am I to take this? Should I be thankful that at last I have Icelandic bosoms in front of me and that the timing of the rule was when my sister was out of the house. Or do I claim the hard luck story that where was this opportunity for the past 19 months? I decided to claim both. As the game concluded my sister and David re-enter with a couple of other people and the tops were put on again.



The next day was an effort to get north to the Guatemalan border. The 630am ferry was set to leave and it was a different boat to the one we caught a few days earlier. Nicknamed the “VomitComit” this old boat is not what was needed whilst sporting a hangover.



Windows surround the boat but they are elevated from where the hard seats are. With a boxed in view we set off for the 90 minutes. Within 2 minutes we are rocking back and forth feeling every inch of the wave. This is no ordinary boat either because it wouldn’t go up the crest of a wave and pound the next wave. It would go up the crest than slide down the back end of the wave and start all over again from the bottom – I’ve never felt the empty space between the two waves as much as here.



David is not confident with this ride and my brain tried its best to find a song that didn’t remind me of where I was like Queens of the Stone Age’s Hangin Tree. There were a bunch of Latinos out the back, which do the typical Latin thing I’ve noticed. If ever there are a group of people to take comedy on boat rides like this it’s the Latino. Generally by half way some or most end up vomiting. This is what happened on this occasion and they would have vomited in a very thin clear narrow plastic bag that’s provided at the beginning… When you think about it that’s probably what got the laughs started… a clear plastic bag.



From its rough start to the day we finished off in Omoa a small village on the river where we scavenged around for food with the last of our money. It took one ferry and 4 bus rides to get to the border. My sister and David passed the chicken bus test and from here on shall all the single females show their face now and have a similar travel plan to me now I have travel buddies.

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