Heading back to San Pedro Sula, Honduras

The news from my family was still in debate, although all my sisters were rally around me and made me feel very special and cared for, which was enough to encourage me to stick it out a little longer and see what would happen in a few days time.

I checked with the hotel staff and they said that there was no buses going down south across the border, not from Copan at least, but a bus was leaving at 5pm for San Pedro Sula which is considered the transport hub for Honduras and if anywhere I could find a bus going to El Salvador it was there.

5pm was a few hours away, so I spend it leisurely walking around the city centre, taking more photos and reading some of my recently aquired book in a room with the door open for light and ventilation after the power in my room dropped out a little after lunchtime.

After so many days of nothing but rain it was nice to have the glorious sunshine again, but equally so I had lost all the suntan and bulit up exposure to the sun so when the 30 plus degree heat beat down solidly on me for the first time in weeks I was caught gasping.

When it came to 4:30 I headed on down to the bus terminal, which was nothing more than a bus stop where all the through buses pass when they go through Copan and it was here than I was told my direct bus was actually not so, and would cost 45 Limperas just to get as far north as San Carlos.

I debated for awhile, as I couldnt quite unerstand what they were tyring to tell me, but in the end I gave in and after entrusting my bag to the roof yet again I sat in the back, privately still fuming after having to leave after I had paid for the second night but mainly cos I was worried that I would have to buy a ticket home and thus end my RTW trip before it really got going, or at least change it to a simple travel diary.

The trip to San Carlos was not too bad, and as it got dark almost onthe stroke on 5:30 it was hard to see what was going on and feared that I might miss my stop of my connection, but luckily even as one bus was pulling away I was pointed in the direction of across the road where a bigger and more modern coach was arriving which with another 80 Limperas took me all the way back to San Pedro Sula.

I could not remember the full address of the hostel Dos Molinos and it so I spoke tothe taxi driver who was hassling me at the terminal in San Pedro Sula to give me a minute, but he was in no mood for waiting and bundled me into the car along with another passenger before I could get myself all sorted out. I would have done so earlier, but it was dark and also the printout of the details for the hostel were packed in my bag and so I gave what I thought was the address, but the taxi driver was useless and after giving me the run around increased his price from US $3 to $4 for the confusion before he finally arrived at the right hostel.

Only thing was, it wasnt the one I stayed at the other day, and for the life of me I cant see how both hostels had my booking down for the same time, as the hostel owner was expecting me a few days ago ... something definetly screwey with hostelworld and hostelbookers, thats for sure.

Anyway, after a few minutes of chatting with the owner and a english speaking guest, I checked in and was able to get on the free wifi for a bit, but with all the fuss, the heat and the tiredness I just could not find the energy to write much for the blog.

I went to bed after having taken a trip to the local cash point and realised that it was only a few blocks away from the other hostel, but of course it was too late to do anything about that now.

I woke in the morning to receive lots of good news emails from my family, and the only thing that put a slight dampener on the day was that by the time I found out that I didnt have to return home to the UK just yet I had also already missed the only bus that left San Pedro Sula for El Salvador today, at the crazy early time of 7am.

So instead of being on a 7 hour bus ride I had to make do with spending another day and a night in San Pedro Sula, but without spending any money, as the extra night plus the delays were all costing me money that I would prefer to spend on other things.

Someone had anonimously left an address for a Lloyds Bank here in San Pedro Sula, so I figured I would go and check it out and see if they could finall put to rest all my problems, only to find though anexhaustive walk along the entire road that the address must be an old one as certainly there was no sign for a Lloyds bank when I went looking, so it was back to plan A and just hope that things go smoother than in recent days.

During the day I did try a local ice cream ( tasted foul ) a local chinese ( which I foolishly filled up on gassy coke so couldnt eat even half of ) and the local cinemas but all the films that I wanted to see were not out yet, so I just took a long route back and passed what could be just the local night life area, and maybe even a mini red light district as there were a few gentlemens clubs with 500 Limpera entrance fees, which is not high for European standards but again are way over the top for the locals and you can imagine it only being for rich tourists.

The heat and the release of stress worked their usual magic on me and I was yanwing by around 6pm, though I struggled on til around 9pm just so that I could get a full nights sleep before setting my alarm for 6am and much awaited bus ride to El Salvador.

A few more photos on San Pedro Sula

A day in San Pedro Sula, Honduras

My local friend I' still had not replied to any of my messages and so it looked like yet another blow out, but I was in too much of a good mood to let this slow me up, so instead I just had breakfast and enjoyed another long chat with my new Honduran / American friend M' til around lunchtime when he had some private stuff to do, at which point I sorted out my plans to visit to Copan Ruinas and then thought about visiting the city centre.

If I had another few days free doing nothing it would have been worth checking out the Bay Islands, as they have been highly recommended by everyone that has been there or has heard of them, but on my tight schedule I knew that it would be a waste to have to arrive and leave on the same day, not giving myself any time to relax into the scene.

My plans to visit the Archaeological Museum were greatly expedited when the hotel owner offered to run me into the centre of town in his van, and say that I could either walk back or grab a taxi, depending on what my plans were after the museum, and all for no extra cost which I thought was extremely helpful and generous of him.

The hotel is a little family run business and M' had earlier told me that the owners take pride in doing their best to help their guests in any way they can, and certianly judging from all the proactice help I had received thus far I could see where he was basing his information on.

When I arrived at the museum, I wasn't expecting too much as it looked quite small from the outside, but inside was like a Tardis and it was so well laid out and presented with plenty of information cards in English for me to read that I had no problem at all wnadering around on my own and making sense of the things I was seing.

For just US $2, or 38 Lempira which is the Hondurian currency, I thought that it was great value and one of the guide books also say that if you arrive on the first Sunday in the month the entrance fee is waves, which is good to know if 'you have a few days here and arrive easly in the month.

There was the whole history of Honduras timeline on display, from the Mayan culture right through to Spanish occupation, pirates and up to the mid 1800's, but my favourite pieces were the recreated huts, the huge paintings and some of the tiny scultpures. I was also impressed to read about the Mayan language being partly cracked by a Russian and then finally completed by an American in the last couple of hundred years, using techniques that up til them were not thought as workable.

In the museum courtyard that was a nice large intricately carved colomn that I liked a lot before I headed off into town to see what central downtown San Pedro looked like, and unsurprisingly it was much like any other downtown with its casino's hotels and shopping malls all being barely a few houses away from falling down buildings, street markets and the beggars who seem to think that because I am white that they should make a bigger play to get my lose change than they should of the locals.

There were a few nice buildings, but the maint thing that stuck in my mind during the day was when I stopped off to get a bite to eat in the local foodcourt and noticed that the guy next to me was shadowed by two rifle wielding security guards at all times, so I have no idea if he just loved the cheap food or he was trying to make a statement that he was just like anyone else!

The other thing I noticed was that I seemed to have the eye of all the local young women, as whereever I went I could spot that at least two or three locals were looking at me favourably at all times, and I guessed that they don't get many Europeans who chose to say in San Pedro, as the tour guide said that most of passing travellers use the city only as a convenient and well organised transport hub before shooting off to wherever they planned on spending a couple of weeks.

I found myself wandering in an ever increasing loop til I got bored and considered getting a taxi back before spotting that I was only a few blocks away at this point, so I just straightened out and made my way back to the hotel.

Arriving at the hotel the owners wife said that if I had any time left I should check out the Mega Mall just a few blocks up the road, and as I was at a loss for what to do and the sun was still shining I decided to go check it out and ended up buying a 60 Lempira cinema ticket, which has almost got be the cheapest cinema ticket I have bought since in my life, and it was a nice cinema too.

I had over an hour to kill before the film started, so I went back to the hotel and started sorting out my photos before returning to watch half an hour of the most boring and routine police drug drama film and then walking out in disgust.

It may have got some good actors in it, but the story had nothing knew whatsoever, it had failed to make me give a damn about any of the characters in the slightest and I could already tell that before the end a few were going to die and then the end credits would roll up, so I figured I wasn't really missing much at all.

In the roof of the Mall there was a live open air trance / base gig being pumped out loud and also over the radio, and I think it was exactly the kind of mainstream trance music that I like but most DJ's hate. I had half a mind to stay there all night to listen to it, but I had left my wallet back in the hotel so I didn't even have enough left on me to get myself a couple of drinks and also it was now dark and so I didn't want to push my luck more than I had already.

Arriving in San Pedro Sula, Honduras

After the fun filled Volcano Bus of the pervious night, I wasn't expecting much from the weather or in terms of topping it, I was just more concerned with arriving at the airport in enough time to check in without any major problems.

W' was up at around 05:20 and although I had not set my alarm I woke up even as he did, and so it seemed a waste to try and just lounge around in bed all morning when he was due to be off for San Jose as well in under an hour. So I threw my stuff into my rucksack and waited for him to take a cold shower, which he wasn't too keen on but I thought that he had read the flier saying that there was no hot water until after 6am.

Without any further delay, we checked out and headed back to where we had shared the meal last night to where the bus terminal was, and being as early as we were, we hopped on a more direct bus than planned at around 05:40 in the morning.

Although the clouds were still in La Fortuna, the morning rain lasted all of about five minutes before it started to clear and by the time that we reached San Carlos we were in sunshine. I have no idea why in South and Central America so many cities and places have got more than one name that they still use, as it confuses the hell out of tourists like me when they say one place and we ignore it cos we are expecting to hear something totally different.

As it was we managed to get on board a bus going to San Jose and both bus fares combined barely cost as much as a single taxi journey in the centre of town, and we were both bemused how on earth the buses can afford modern buses and still turn a profit with such low fares. Personally I would love to know as I would dearly like to tell the transport secretary of the UK that he doesnt need to charge us an arm and a leg to get across town, but thats a whole different gripe.

As luck turned out, because we had good weather and little traffic, we arrived in San Jose around 10am, almost 9 hours earlier than when my flight out was due to depart, and even more fortuitous was that the bus was not direct so it took us right past the airport, so I waved goodbye to W' and went to see if I could find an earlier flight to San Pedro Sula in Honduras.

The check in clerk spoke English and informed me that although they only have one flight to there a day that I could still check in now if I wanted, and thus have the day spend wandering around the city centre without lugging my bag around, which seemed a good idea so I did that and paid the US $26 departure tax before going back to the bus stop to see if I could hop on one going into the centre of San Jose, where I could possibly visit Liberty Plaza during a sunny day, which I am sure would make for some inpressive photos.

However, depsite me asking a few times if the bus went to centre of San Jose, the bus driver took my money then kicked everyone out in the centre of Alajueno, a smaller town to the east of San Jose, or possibly one of its suburbs or disticts, but either way after I got to an internet cafe and asked a guy there where I was I was banging my head against the monitor when I realised that I was in the wrong place and had no idea of what to do here.

Not being one to let the good sunshine go to waste, I was happy to go for a stroll around the centre of Alajueno, grab a bite to eat and do some sight seing before finding another bus that would take me back to the airport around 5pm. Not only do the Central Americans change the names for cities, but they even do it for food. I went to a place which had a nice plate of food diplayed including fries, but no matter how I asked the girl lady behind the counter could just not understand what I wanted so I gave up.

A guy who spoke English sitting with his girlfriend on the next table to me, came over and asked what I wanted and offered to help, so I told him about the sign and the fries and after a chat I managed to pay for my "papa pequeno's" - which were their name for fries and nothing at all like Potata Fritas or anything similar !!!

To kill a little more time, and becuase my sideburns were getting a little out of control, I decided to get my hair cut and I strongly advice against anyone who can't speak the local lingo to go into one of these places and ask for somthing short.

In the UK I am always asked what side of clippers I want on the back and sides, so when my hairdresser asked me about numbers I assumed it would be the same, I certainly wasn't thinking she was going to take the same clippers and go right over my head down the middle, like a reverse moheacon, and of course once she did the first bit I was then committed to letting her finish or buying a hat and not taking it off for three or four weeks.

She did leave a tiny bit of a fringe, but I now probably wont need another haircut til I leave Australia as it will take at least til Christmas just to get long enough to so something other than stick our from the roots.

After these two mini dilemmas, I headed off to find a bus to go back to the airport, which was easier said than done, but eventually I found one and hopping on, made my way back to the airport and through security to the departure lounge where I found a corner with a plug socket where I could hook up my laptop and while away an hour or two with drafting up emails. I did manage to get my wifi adapter to work for a few minutes, but all too soon it crashed on me again and so although its not completely dead it is definetly unreliable and didn't work for the next few days at least.

I bought a book to while away the time, and I was gobsmacked to find out that a book costing US $8 in the USA was being sold in the airport for US $13, and I suddenly remembered my friend in South America telling me that there was a huge conspiracy with selling books at hugely overinflated prices, and I now knew exactly what she was going on about.

The flight over was pleasant enough, and before too long I was pulling up to San Pedro Sula immigration lines with my several forms all receently filled in and my passport. I was almost the last one through the lines, as they were processing the nationals a lot faster than the foreigners and I had started to get a horrid sinking feel when I went to collect my bag to find that it was not on the revolving carosel.

As they shut the gates to the loading area I made a scan of all the people lining up to have their luggage rescanned before being let out, which was the first time I have seen luggage inbound having to be scanned, and when here too I could find noone with my bag I headed off to the lost property office, only to spot that my bag had been bagged up and taken off the carosel to be dumped in a pile with a few others waiting for their owners to come collect them.

I have no idea why they did this, but I picked it up, passed through security and reflexively zipped up my jacket as the outside was a throng of bodies all trying to squeese through a tiny opening and I certainly didnt want to get pickpocked here.

The taxi driver outside said that the price to reach my hostel was US $40 to which I just laughed and walked away, mainly to sort out my luggage but also as he was clearly trying to rip me off big time, and I was having none of it. I headed off to the departure loung, where I asked a guard how much it should be to get into town and when he said US $20 I was shocked it was so high, but sighing I knew that if that was the price I could not haggle below this and so went back to the taxi rank.

Knowing that 20 was the minimum I was expecting to pay 30, but I had been away for long enough for the crowd to disperse and the only taxi left was the same guy, who recognised me and called out 20 before I could even open my mouth, so without a delay I accepted and jumped in.

Arriving at the hotel was not a problem, but despite making a second booking in the same hostel as I was arriving a day earlier than previously planned, the hotel owner said that he was full, but would willingly take me around the city is his van to find me a safe place for the night.

So I paid the taxi and was about to get back into his van when a friendly American gentleman , who later said that he was actually a Honduran due to his family lineage, who spoke perfectly fluent Spanish, interjected and offered to give up his room for me, saying that he would crash out on a spare mattress from his room so that I did not have to leave the hotel, and although I offered to switch places and take the spare mattress, he insisted and so I gratefully accepted and then lugged my stuff up to my room.

Such kindness and good conversation I was really not expecting, but he turned out to be a very interesting guy with plenty of stories of his own to tell, like the one where he was tutor to Shakeil Oneil's brother, and so we happily chatted on various subjects for almost three hours til it we were both yawning a bit and I took that as my cue to thank him one final time and then head on up to my room.

One of the things he did tell me, before we said goodnight, was that Honduras was recently experiencing a bit of a turbulent time with local born but American educucated gangsters who had been recently expelled from the US and returning home found it a country ripe for the picking. With their exprience and list of contacts they had no problem obtaining drugs, prostitutes and guns easily enough and gained an early advantage as the local police force were totally unprepared and untrained for this sudden rise in violent organised crime.

The other thing he told me was not to mess about with the local women, as Honduras also had one of the highest percentages of recorded Aids cases per thousand of the populace in the whole of the America's.