1. Fleeing Violence in Honduras, a Teenage Boy Seeks Asylum in Brooklyn (The New York Times)
2. Native Villagers in Honduras Bet on Food Security, and Win (Truthout)
3. Former Costa Rica boss Jorge Manuel Pinto named new Honduras manager (Daily Mail)
There is violence, insecurity and, what seems most benign, futbol. But even the futbol-related piece of news had to do with themes of instability and under-achievement. An English couple on a three-month long Central American odyssey also avoided Honduras (and El Salvador, too) because of the same perception. In Copan Ruinas we had none of that. Yes, Copan Ruinas is only one place. But it is still Honduras, which isn't muggy lock, stock and barrel.
Below: Hammock with a view.
Mary couldn't walk the day after twisting her foot, so I arranged a private shuttle for us back to Santa Ana, where we were to catch another shuttle on to Copan Ruinas in Honduras. It was meant to be an easy four-hour plus journey across two borders (through Guatemala to Honduras, because although El Salvador borders Honduras immediately to the south, crossing directly entails more traveling). However, to alight, get our passports stamped and board again was a tad too much hassle for Mary. It wasn't just difficulty moving which lengthened our customs and immigration process - we would have skimmed fifteen minutes off the time it took to go through but for the why-does-this-Japanese-passport-not-say-Japan moments experienced by both Guatemalan and Honduran officials.
Once at Copan Ruinas, we headed straight for the Casa de cafe, run by the very hospitable Howard and Angela. We planned for three nights here and stayed for four, the first time I stayed in a place longer than I intended to. Casa de cafe sits on a little hillock on the north-eastern edge of the town, and commands a fine views of the surrounding countryside.
Below: Casa de cafe - home away from home for the four days we were there.
The very afternoon we arrived, we decided to obtain a medical opinion on the state of Mary's foot. Howard, Angela and their team responded brilliantly. After confirming that no English-speaking doctors were in, Howard and Angela accompanied us to the doctor and translated for us. Dr Maradiaga assured us that nothing was broken, recommending a second doctor known as being an expert in such injuries.
This was a burly Cuban doctor who has been based in nearby Santa Rosa de Copan for the past fourteen years, and who only sees patients in Copan Ruinas on the weekend. Once there, he looked closely at Mary's foot, mulled for a bit, and suggested a whole flurry of therapies - ice and heat treatment, ultrasound, an injection. No, not the injection, we interjected while exchanging looks of downright bafflement with Angela. And then he rounded off, of course you will need lots of rest. We opted for the hot-cold therapy, which involved no more than alternating between applying a cold pack and immersing the foot in hot water for 25 minutes.
When the hot-cold therapy was done, Dr Rodriguez suggested we return over the weekend (the next two days) for this. He's out to make money off you, Angela quipped in an aside, we could do the same back at the B&B. We nodded. So it was back there for Mary, for pretty much the next four days.
All the while, we chatted with Angela, who shared the story of how she met Howard (Howard completed the story a couple of days later, when he recounted how the Casa de cafe project fitted into their lives). They started Casa de cafe in 1995, and over time their business also grew to include the Iguana Azul hostel next door and the Terramaya hotel a couple of blocks away. We also found out how tourism was going well until the 2009 political crisis, after which Honduras became more closely associated in the Western media with crime, instability and violence. But in Howard's words, you could stay a month in Copan and not see any of those things.
So we woke up late, had breakfast after all the other guests, had our three meals at the B&B, read, surfed the Internet and watched shows off it. Tamales made for simple but tasty local fare. These were grain, vegetable and pieces of meat wrapped up in banana leaves, which the Mayans used to have while out in the field. The most exciting bits of those stationary days came with the visit of a hummingbird to the lawn just in front of our room. Hawks, grackles and doves drew a comparable degree of excitement, at least for the first few days.
Above (from top to bottom): Tamales, I grew to relish it, Mary grew tired of it after a while; the highlight of our Casa de cafe stay was spotting el colibri (a hummingbird).
Below (from top to bottom): More birds - the common grackle, a noisy neighbour; and what (after some extensive googling) looks like a seedeater.
Walks to town involved solo trips (just me, obviously) to the pharmacy to buy an ankle brace, anti-inflammation lotion, bandage, a gel pack for the hot-cold therapy, and body wash and shampoo when ours ran out. Consequently I've picked out more Spanish words for things I never previously bothered remembering.
Coming from El Salvador, where tourism was least developed amongst the three Central American republics on our itinerary (Honduras and Guatemala being the other two), Copan Ruinas was a step up in terms of development. Not only did we encounter our first souvenir shops on our trip here, but also a profusion of kitschy bars and restaurants geared towards tourists. Sensibly so, the growth of the town has always been dependent on foreign interest in the nearby Mayan ruins - first archaeologists, then a growing wave of tourists. Nobody comes to Copan without seeing the ruins (we nearly did that, only I went to the ruins and Mary stayed at the B&B, more on that later).
Above (from top to bottom): the main plaza in tiny Copan Ruinas, we didn't step into the church this time round, though everyday in the B&B we prayed for swift healing; tuktuk parade in town.
Below (from top to bottom): the hilly cobbled streets of Copan, a hobbler's nightmare; the bottom-most roller-coaster road leads from the centre of town to our B&B.
The days came and went, and even we had to leave to get our itinerary going. Mary's foot was better on our fourth and last day there, so we headed to town to do a little shopping the morning before our shuttle departure - for souvenirs, mind, not shampoo. There was a tinge of reluctance when the shuttle arrived at noon. We had grown so used to Casa de cafe and Copan Ruinas. But never did I expect in my life to be having a resort-style holiday in Honduras. And what was more - we were not even on its beaches!
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