Hope you are all well and are planning to buy me loads of brilliant goodies for Christmas. You know you want to.
In the next few updates, I am going to include where we went and what we did in Central America in the past couple of weeks, but slightly different to what I have done before. It will be more in short note form. I haven’t got much more time left in Honduras and I need to be looking for jobs and finishing off the book, as well as seeing my brilliant girlfriend as much as I possibly can before I go. I love Honduras and I love her, so the plan is to return to Honduras in January, so there is every chance that this darn blog is going to continue. Poor sods you are, as you are the ones who have to read this rubbish.
Before I start on that, I will include a little poem I wrote while being driven over a rocky Belizian road. It’s called Write Man and it was inspired by the many wonderful poems of Spike Milligan.Write Man You should never write While having a fight Or going over speed bumps. Even if it’s your muse, You’ll lose your short fuse, And vomit last night’s meal out in clumps. Tell the people you want space, Find a nice place, And you’ll be writing out your memoirs with some ease. You can do it with a drug, Or gifiti in a mug, And you’ll find that this tease becomes a please.
So, here we go!
Wednesday 16th November 2011
Went by Hedman Alas by bus up to San Pedro Sula. Watched a film called the Adjustment Bureau. It had Matt Damon, Terence Stamp and Emily Blunt. It’s a romantic thriller about running through doors, taking opportunities when you see them and fighting fate. It got me thinking about Pamela. I called her to say I had watched the film but couldn’t remember the name of it at the time. If Pam’s reading, it’s called Adjustment Bureau. I recommend it to everyone. Got to the Hotel-Apart Villa Nuria in San Pedro Sula. I stayed there with the Canadian Girl Guides a few months ago. It’s nice and safe and very comfortable. Really like it. I recommend this to everyone too. I got into the hotel and drank two cans of Imperial beer and then got a phone call from reception telling me to get ready to go to the shuttle bus that was going to the airport to pick up mum and dad at the airport. They reached San Pedro Sula ahead of schedule. They nearly missed their flight in Miami because American Airlines staff gave them incorrect information about customs and immigration forms. Imbeciles. American Airlines that is. Not my parents. We got some money from the bank, got back to the hotel and had chicken for dinner. Not the best meal on earth. It was great seeing mum and dad after nearly a year without seeing them. The heat hit them a bit.
Thursday 17th November 2011
Early rise. Had breakfast. Mum and dad’s first venture into refried beans, banana and egg. First of many like that. Got checked out of the hotel. Dad spoke to my girlfriend on the phone. We got a shuttle bus to the Hedman Alas bus station. The ride was funny. Heard mum and dad saying stuff like, “Wow, they ride by horse and cart as well as car” and “They’re selling oranges.” They were like kids commenting on everything. Got the ticket from Hedman Alas. Went into the shopping centre nearby to wait for the bus. We had a fresh fruit drink. Can’t remember what exactly. I bought leche dulce. Just like fudge. Mum and dad loved it. Reminded them of holidays in Devon and Cornwall. Security checks at the Hedman Alas bus station were done by a jobswerth. He said my bag didn’t fit in the compartment. It did. It did well too. Took a few minutes to sort out. Div. Anyway, once on the bus, there was a man going round giving out drinks. My mum picked up a sickly sweet grape drink, which is a soft drink. My friend Hazel sums it up well: wine without the fun. To me it tastes like cough mixture that doesn’t have aspirin. A pointless disgusting drink. It was a picture seeing my parents faces when they tried it. There were lovely views out of the coach window of vast landscapes of rolling green hills in Santa Barbara, and it was a shock to my parents to see poverty seen on the roads in the rural areas. Kind of used to me now, me. Not that it makes it any less sad.
We got to Copan Ruinas. Jose the motor taxi man gave us a lift to our hotel, Casa de Cafe. Motor taxis are like tut-tuts in Far East Asia, which have an engine similar to a lawn-mower. It carried five adults and our bags and went up steep hills and round pacarious corners that made my poor old dad’s blood pressure go through the roof.
Got to the hotel. Casa de Cafe is wonderful. Beautiful rooms. Wonderful setting of cloud forests. We had some amazing coffee there. I had two cups. Kept me up all night. We went into the town. Mum and dad were treated to their first baleadas. three for 30 lemps (1 quid). The eatery was more or less a living room in someone’s house. Kind of used to it. Mum and Dad weren’t. The baleadas filled a hole. I could of eaten more, as always. We then went to the main square, talked about politics and how much of a gobshite David Cameron is, problems with Tories tried to crush the NHS and cutting jobs for fun, how Italy was in financial ruin and the corruption that happens in Honduras. We didn’t want to spoil the occasion so we turned the matter to football, but that wasn’t much better so we talked about my darling niece and nephew, Ella and Leo, and we all felt better. We returned to the hotel for a rest, then went to a restaurant where mum and dad tried pupusas. Wonderful. I loved them anyway. They also had Port Royale beer. Nice. We went back to the hotel because we were knackered. Slept. Well, I didn’t, but mum and dad did. Damn coffee.
Will update you about Copan Ruinas in the next update. Here are some lovely pictures of the hotel and the town.