Showing posts with label Honduras. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Honduras. Show all posts
6/13/2008
Tourist moment
One of the charms of Copan Ruinas is walking the town in the early morning and seeing all the cowboys coming and going. Real caballeros, with hats and spurs. Horseback riding is a popular activity, so some come to town to drum up business, bring stuff to market, etc.
The owner of my hostel offers tours, so I decided to go on one this morning, before I caught the bus out of town. I was under the impression his young son would be my guide, which seemed like it might be fun. $15 for three hours of riding in those picturesque hills seemed like a decent deal.
We were supposed to meet at 8 a.m. Nothing ever happens on time in Central America, so I wasn't surprised that it took them until after 9:00 to come looking for me. In the middle of the night a storm had knocked out electricity in town, so I couldn't even have a cup of coffee while I waited.
The son was in his school uniform and I thought, there's no way I can do this if the kid is going to miss school to do it! But they had hired a caballero guide, so I felt better about the whole deal.
Until he led me to his horse. Singular. I was a little confused, but I mounted, and as we started off I asked him where his horse was, assuming that's where he was leading me. No, he was going to walk alongside while I rode his horse.
I have never felt like such a tourist. I felt like a little kid being led on a pony at a birthday party.
It was too weird. I apologized, dismounted and walked back to the hostel. The girl there asked me why I backed out. When I told her she explained to me that I had only agreed to pay for one horse, and that I'd have to pay double for the guide to have a horse.
I think this qualifies as more than "lost in translation."
Since there was no electricity there was nothing really to do, so I caught an early bus and tonight I'm crashing in San Pedro Sula. It's the industrial center of the country, and where the international airport is, but there's not much to do or see. Luckily an Aussie guy I'm sharing a room with has been kind enough to loan me his laptop so that I can send one last (free!) missive from Honduras. I'm going to use the afternoon to make some additional travel arrangements. I can't wait for the day when I no longer NEED the internet on this trip.
So here are a couple parting shots of Copan Ruinas. One is from the hillside looking down on the town. You can see the spires of the church which marks the south side of the central plaza. In the other shot you can see a brown sign on the right. That's where I stayed. And beyond is the view when I walked out the door.
The owner of my hostel offers tours, so I decided to go on one this morning, before I caught the bus out of town. I was under the impression his young son would be my guide, which seemed like it might be fun. $15 for three hours of riding in those picturesque hills seemed like a decent deal.
We were supposed to meet at 8 a.m. Nothing ever happens on time in Central America, so I wasn't surprised that it took them until after 9:00 to come looking for me. In the middle of the night a storm had knocked out electricity in town, so I couldn't even have a cup of coffee while I waited.
The son was in his school uniform and I thought, there's no way I can do this if the kid is going to miss school to do it! But they had hired a caballero guide, so I felt better about the whole deal.
Until he led me to his horse. Singular. I was a little confused, but I mounted, and as we started off I asked him where his horse was, assuming that's where he was leading me. No, he was going to walk alongside while I rode his horse.
I have never felt like such a tourist. I felt like a little kid being led on a pony at a birthday party.
It was too weird. I apologized, dismounted and walked back to the hostel. The girl there asked me why I backed out. When I told her she explained to me that I had only agreed to pay for one horse, and that I'd have to pay double for the guide to have a horse.
I think this qualifies as more than "lost in translation."
Since there was no electricity there was nothing really to do, so I caught an early bus and tonight I'm crashing in San Pedro Sula. It's the industrial center of the country, and where the international airport is, but there's not much to do or see. Luckily an Aussie guy I'm sharing a room with has been kind enough to loan me his laptop so that I can send one last (free!) missive from Honduras. I'm going to use the afternoon to make some additional travel arrangements. I can't wait for the day when I no longer NEED the internet on this trip.
So here are a couple parting shots of Copan Ruinas. One is from the hillside looking down on the town. You can see the spires of the church which marks the south side of the central plaza. In the other shot you can see a brown sign on the right. That's where I stayed. And beyond is the view when I walked out the door.
6/11/2008
Copan
Yesterday I arrived in Copan Ruinas, the town just on the outskirts of the Mayan ruins of Copan. It's a beautiful, charming little town, nestled in a picturesque valley in the western highlands of Honduras, just a few miles from the Guatemalan border. I was hugely disappointed in both Leon and Granada, so it was nice to visit a town which lives up to its reputation.
Today I walked down to the ruins. I had been to Tikal in Guatemala, which is famous for its sheer size and for its pyramids, which are tall by Mayan standards. Copan, on the other hand, is famous for its sculpture. My guide book aptly noted that Tikal was like New York and Copan was like Paris.
This shot is from the Great Plaza. In the background is the Hieroglyphic Stairway. It features the longest inscribed text in the ancient New World. A series of carvings tells the story of the ruling dynasty. It (and other sculptures) are covered with tarps to protect them from the rain. In front of that is the Great Ballcourt, where some sort of game was played with an 8 pound rubber ball. And in the foreground is one of the many stelae, free-standing statues honoring the city's rulers.
This shot is taken further back, so you can see the size of the plaza, with more stelae and altars. It was completely paved and there are drains at the far end so it was believe they could intentionally flood the entire plaza like a lagoon for festivals or rituals.
The carvings have been damaged by centuries of rain, but the detail is still impressive. This the "name glyph" for the 13th ruler, Waxaklahun Ub'ah K'awil. That's a mouthful, so rulers have popular names based on what people think their glyphs look like. In this one the three bars each represent five and the three dots each represent one, for a total of 18. So he's known as 18 Rabbit, because someone decided the head on the bottom left looks like a rabbit. Um, if you say so...
The site is beautifully maintained, with an excellent museum, and although the monuments aren't quite as impressive as Tikal, there's a lot less walking! But I should have started with the Maya and worked my way up to the Inca. After seeing Machu Picchu, Ollantayambo, etc., in Peru, the Mayan temples look like outhouses by comparison.
Today I walked down to the ruins. I had been to Tikal in Guatemala, which is famous for its sheer size and for its pyramids, which are tall by Mayan standards. Copan, on the other hand, is famous for its sculpture. My guide book aptly noted that Tikal was like New York and Copan was like Paris.
This shot is from the Great Plaza. In the background is the Hieroglyphic Stairway. It features the longest inscribed text in the ancient New World. A series of carvings tells the story of the ruling dynasty. It (and other sculptures) are covered with tarps to protect them from the rain. In front of that is the Great Ballcourt, where some sort of game was played with an 8 pound rubber ball. And in the foreground is one of the many stelae, free-standing statues honoring the city's rulers.
This shot is taken further back, so you can see the size of the plaza, with more stelae and altars. It was completely paved and there are drains at the far end so it was believe they could intentionally flood the entire plaza like a lagoon for festivals or rituals.
The carvings have been damaged by centuries of rain, but the detail is still impressive. This the "name glyph" for the 13th ruler, Waxaklahun Ub'ah K'awil. That's a mouthful, so rulers have popular names based on what people think their glyphs look like. In this one the three bars each represent five and the three dots each represent one, for a total of 18. So he's known as 18 Rabbit, because someone decided the head on the bottom left looks like a rabbit. Um, if you say so...
The site is beautifully maintained, with an excellent museum, and although the monuments aren't quite as impressive as Tikal, there's a lot less walking! But I should have started with the Maya and worked my way up to the Inca. After seeing Machu Picchu, Ollantayambo, etc., in Peru, the Mayan temples look like outhouses by comparison.
6/07/2008
Utila
This is the main street on Utila, which they've torn up to install a new "sewer system," which is a fancy name for plastic pipe under the concrete. You'll notice the internet cafe (where I am now) says Caye Caulker, which is actually in Belize. Who knows...
The first night we were here we went to perhaps the coolest restaurant I've ever been to (pix to come) where a couple guys from the dive shop were celebrating being certified as instructors. The "final exam" is the snorkel test, where they put on a snorkel and random people dump random liquids down the snorkel and they're supposed to chug as much as they can. I don't know what poor Marco here was trying to drink but it looked like mouthwash and smelled like Windex. I think I'll skip that class.
The first night we were here we went to perhaps the coolest restaurant I've ever been to (pix to come) where a couple guys from the dive shop were celebrating being certified as instructors. The "final exam" is the snorkel test, where they put on a snorkel and random people dump random liquids down the snorkel and they're supposed to chug as much as they can. I don't know what poor Marco here was trying to drink but it looked like mouthwash and smelled like Windex. I think I'll skip that class.
Lucky me
I'm sort of legendary for my freakish bad luck. Things happen to me that just don't happen to normal people. So my experience getting to Honduras was quite a pleasant surprise. We took a bus from Granada to Managua, booked a hostel, then took a bus to Leon for the day. The girls I was traveling with were going to Honduras, but only as far as the capital. We booked a bus out the next morning. I continued on to San Pedro Sula, a few hours further north. We said an awkward farewell on the bus, and then I felt suddenly very alone.
I wanted to get to La Ceiba, on the coast, which is where to catch the ferry to where I am now. The bus ride from San Pedro Sula to La Ceiba takes a few hours. I would be arriving in SPS around dinner time, so my window of opportunity to find a bus was small. I would have to take a cab from the bus station into town and then find the right bus line for the trip. According to the map in my travel guide bus stations are all over town. So I was resigned to staying the night in SPS, making arrangements, and leaving the next morning.
A Belgian girl on the bus was getting off in SPS but heading in the opposite direction, to the Mayan ruins in Copan. We discussed sharing a taxi into town and I started considering how to get the cute Belgian girl to invite me along to Copan.
So imagine my shock when we arrive at the bus station in SPS to discover it's the size of a small airport. Hundreds of buses on two levels. My heart sank. It was boing to be a daunting task figuring out where to go. While I was waiting outside the bus for my backpack to be unloaded I heard a guy yelling "La Ceiba!"
The bus I needed was parked next to the one I had just arrived in. And it was leaving in five minutes. What an incredible stroke of luck. I rode on a luxury bus in a fully reclining seat, with complimentary beverage and snack service, in air conditioning so cold I needed two blankets, watching Terminator 3. For $14US. Hardcore backpackers would be aghast that I spent that much for a bus in Central America, but boy oh boy was it worth it.
(By way of comparison, neither of my flights from the US to Nicaragua had a snack or movie.)
I woke up at 3 a.m. in Managua to catch the bus that morning. (For some reason all buses in Central America seem to leave at 4 or 5 a.m.) After three bus rides and a taxi it was about 9 p.m. and I was dead. I figured I'd get up the next morning and get my bearings.
I met an American girl at the hostel and asked her if she was coming or going from the islands. She said she and her friend were heading to the ferry and had a cab on the way to pick them up and, oh, would I like to tag along? 10 minutes later I was on my way to the dock.
Sorry no pix with this post. I'll do better next time.
I wanted to get to La Ceiba, on the coast, which is where to catch the ferry to where I am now. The bus ride from San Pedro Sula to La Ceiba takes a few hours. I would be arriving in SPS around dinner time, so my window of opportunity to find a bus was small. I would have to take a cab from the bus station into town and then find the right bus line for the trip. According to the map in my travel guide bus stations are all over town. So I was resigned to staying the night in SPS, making arrangements, and leaving the next morning.
A Belgian girl on the bus was getting off in SPS but heading in the opposite direction, to the Mayan ruins in Copan. We discussed sharing a taxi into town and I started considering how to get the cute Belgian girl to invite me along to Copan.
So imagine my shock when we arrive at the bus station in SPS to discover it's the size of a small airport. Hundreds of buses on two levels. My heart sank. It was boing to be a daunting task figuring out where to go. While I was waiting outside the bus for my backpack to be unloaded I heard a guy yelling "La Ceiba!"
The bus I needed was parked next to the one I had just arrived in. And it was leaving in five minutes. What an incredible stroke of luck. I rode on a luxury bus in a fully reclining seat, with complimentary beverage and snack service, in air conditioning so cold I needed two blankets, watching Terminator 3. For $14US. Hardcore backpackers would be aghast that I spent that much for a bus in Central America, but boy oh boy was it worth it.
(By way of comparison, neither of my flights from the US to Nicaragua had a snack or movie.)
I woke up at 3 a.m. in Managua to catch the bus that morning. (For some reason all buses in Central America seem to leave at 4 or 5 a.m.) After three bus rides and a taxi it was about 9 p.m. and I was dead. I figured I'd get up the next morning and get my bearings.
I met an American girl at the hostel and asked her if she was coming or going from the islands. She said she and her friend were heading to the ferry and had a cab on the way to pick them up and, oh, would I like to tag along? 10 minutes later I was on my way to the dock.
Sorry no pix with this post. I'll do better next time.
6/06/2008
Change of course update
One of the benefits of backpacking is the freedom to change your itinerary on the fly. I´m only in my second week but I´ve already made a major change of direction. I´m on Utila, one of the Bay Islands off the coast of northern Honduras. I had hoped to take a scuba class before I left the US but I had to cancel because I just didn´t have the time. The Bay Islands are part of the same reef as Belize, so the diving is just as good, but much, much cheaper. The weather is spectacular, the island is gorgeous, so if you´ll excuse me I´m going to enjoy the day.
I´ll update further when I have a rainy day and-or solid internet connection.
I´ll update further when I have a rainy day and-or solid internet connection.
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