Being very careful to show up on time for our flight to Honduras, we were treated to a smooth journey right up to the point when we stepped out into the warm sun shining onto the arrival area. There was no sign of the driver that we'd arranged to pick us up from the airport and drive the two and a half hours from San Pedro Sula to Copan, where we were staying. After shaking off the feeling of deja vu and wandering aimlessly through the airport, we solicited the services of an extremely helpful woman at the information booth who managed, through a great deal of sleuthing and determination, to get in touch with our travel agency. The driver turned up just in time to avert our developing plan to find a bus to Copan, which would have left the tour guide, whom the travel agency had apparently arranged to send with us, sitting high and dry back in San Pedro Sula. Disaster averted, we rode downtown, where we met up with Eli, the aforementioned guide. He was a friendly fellow and chatted us up on the long drive into the mountains.

Honduras is a hilly place; apparently some seventy percent of the country is mountainous. The scenery on the drive to Copan didn't vary greatly from what you see here.

We arrived in Copan and discovered cobblestone streets, pickup trucks...

...and a lot of cowboy hat wearing Hondurans.

Vegetables could be had from the street vendors...

...and tiny bananas too.

Our hotel had a lush, jungle garden in the courtyard...

...and a friendly reminder in the sauna that if you are going to vomit, please lift up both seats of the toilet.

Many people sat around in the main square, whiling away a Sunday afternoon admiring the passing trucks...

...but the television delivery men remained hard at work.

The most peculiar thing I discovered was the preferred mode of public transportation. You might think they'd use buses, but the only bus we saw was for taking tourists to see the Mayan ruins.

Instead they preferred the "truckful of Hondurans" method. I didn't get any better photos, but we would frequently witness a pickup truck driving by, packed to bursting with people. I am left to wonder whether they were all friends of the driver or if they had some sort of carpooling arrangement.

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©2002 michael bayne  <mdb@samskivert.com>