Hurrying through Honduras

 

So this is going to be quick - something I recommend when traveling through Honduras.

I've also decided to add a song that gets you in the mood for the blog. For this one? A little Honduras Somos Pandilleros (we are gang members) by Gangsta Local Clique (GLC), or anyone else - if you can find it. Most of the content is blocked for their association with M13, so not for the weak of stomach or strong of conscience. Soooo... for those who don't want to screw up your algorithms, suggest Corrido Honduras by Caramberos de Nueva Celilac, the unofficial anthem of Honduras - which is beautiful in parts. Just not the parts we passed through.

Let's start (and end) with the border crossing. No signs. Many different buildings and authorities to go through, like some arduous Google job interview. Lots of hustlers ready to weave you through the traffic, sweet talk the authorities for you and even fill out your forms. There was much passing of parked vehicles, a little driving over sidewalks - and not a little cash changing hands. But in the end, we did get out of El Salvador (the first hurdle), and make our way into Honduras. 

This was it for the beach

Turtle pond in the parking lot

There weren't a lot of options for places to stay on the Honduran Pacific coast, so we headed direct to a restaurant in a small shrimp packing town (one of Honduras' bigger cities) called San Lorenzo. 

We stayed in the parking lot of  the Restaurant and Playa San Lorenzo, which was owned by an octogenarian German, Werner, and his much younger Honduran wife. Werner had been all over the world and had once owned a crocodile farm. Souvenirs of his life in Latin America and Europe covered the walls - including several crocodile skins splayed on the wall, the biggest of which was eaten by bats. Other memorable parts of his collection: giant pufferfish corpse, shark teeth, retired boxing gloves, and sand dollars. Behind the bar, which had an impressive collection of liquor, was a sign that read, "warner's pharmacy". There were parrots in cages, fish tanks and a pool they were repainting for the holiday weekend. 

Ivan at the restaurant. Yes, that is an alligator on the wall behind him.

View from the restaurant balcony.

Restaurant with Werner's pharmacy in back

Evening view from the deck of the restaurant.

Werner's Pharmacy

Mid-afternoon, we were joined by a French couple in a camper van and Werner regaled us all with stories of his life in Honduras. Including a great story about how, when he lived on his houseboat nearby, he often had gangsters raiding his restaurant. So he now sleeps above the restaurant with his dogs and his guns. When Ivan asked if he ever had to use his gun, Werner assured us that yes, he did. A few times he had to shoot some guys. When Ivan asked how many times, Werner hesitated. 

"Three," he said. Shrugged. "Maybe six."

"And what do the police do?" Ivan asked. Werner shrugged again, said the police knew him and were glad of the help. "They were bad people," he explained.

So with that bed time story ringing in our ears, and after a delicious meal of fish followed by a rare but delicious shot of German kirsh from Werner's Pharmacy, we settled in to sleep in the parking lot.

 Werner let out his dogs, a mangey lot who roamed the perimeter throughout the night. We were lulled to sleep by the sounds of their shuffling, and the karaoke singers next door, belting Spanish love songs at top volume, safe in the knowledge that  we had an 80-year old sharp shooter sleeping above us.

San Lorenzo decorates for a weekend party

The road towards the border, essentially one huge landfill.

All to say we got out of dodge the next day pretty quick, doing another labyrinthian pass through the Honduran and then Nicaraguan border crossings.

Many confusions and delays later, we were in beautiful (and well-paved) Nicaragua.

But more on that in the next post. 

Stay safe, enjoy the spring and hope to see many of you soon when I come back to town in May!