ah, the beach, eek the mosquitos

After one night in Tela, we went in search of a bit more quiet and a lot fewer tourists. At the finca, Carlos told us about a man named Profesor Margaritos Colon who had some nice cabanas on the beach in a little fishing village outside of town.

It wasn't really on any map very clearly, so we just kept driving along and asking people for directions. They were all very helpful except that their directions were always too complex for our pathetic understanding of Spanish. All we could grasp was which direction to start in. After asking about half a dozen people, we managed to triangulate in on a little dirt road which took us to a fairly large (5,000 people it turned out) Garifuna village. The Garifuna are an interesting cultural mix. They are descended from people who came from Africa as slaves, put up a huge revolt on the island of St. Thomas, and about 3,000 of them ended up on the east coasts of Mexico, Belize and Honduras - mostly Honduras. Super nice people and they speak both Spanish and a very interesting Creole language.

Anyway, the beach did turn out to be simply perfect. Soft white sand; palm trees for shade; warm, clear, blue water; waves just lively enough to play in but never dangerous; and a bar and restaurant right there for beer and snacks. The palms are loaded down with huge coconuts. I hadn't been laying on the beach for 10 minutes when Profesor Colon's brother, Andrew, chopped open one and presented it to me with a big straw in it, yum.

We met a nice couple - she was from Germany and he was from Peru - who said they'd been up and down the coast in search of beaches and this was the very best one.

Also, by sheer luck we happened to be there the night a professional touring company of Garifuna dancers, from Triunfo, were in town putting on a show for a busload of tourists. We snuck in and watched the show sitting among a bunch of the kids we'd already met on the beach. Fabulous dancing and very theatrical.

We stayed two nights and two days, just being lazy on the beach. My favorite part, besides a perfect beach, were the local kids. I think we frustrated the hell out of them because they couldn't seem to grasp that we didn't speak much Spanish. I think they just thought we were stupid as hell. Nonetheless they were fun to talk to. Many of them were pretty crafty. One kid made a fully functioning kite out of a plastic bag and some twigs. Another kid had made a sand buggy out of a milk carton with oranges for big knobby tires. And this other kid we met was clearly the entrepeneur in town, succeeding in selling us several pieces of art he made out of wood, shells, coconuts, turtle shell, etc. He also tried to talk us into coming over to his house where he'd cook dinner for us.

My least favorite part - just as they did in Hawaii, it turns out mosquitoes still love me better than any other meat. Alan had half a dozen bites while we slept in the cabana. I've got about 100. Seriously. I stayed awake all night killing or hiding from them, trying to imagine my statistical odds of being bitten by the one who had malaria or dengue fever.

Our best attempts to stay lazy failed and we got antsy for new sights. And I needed a break from the mosquito picnic. We moved on to La Ceiba, a town known most for being the ferry port for getting to the Bay Islands, where you can snorkel the second biggest barrier reef in the world.

We stayed a night in a really cheap place, and I spent another night being chased by mosquitoes. The next morning, I hit my complete limit for dirt, smell, bugs, and 3rd world stuff in general. Stomped all over town looking for a better place to stay, muttering things that sounded very British under my breath. My only excuse besides 6 weeks of, well, living a lot dirtier than I'm used to, is that four nights in a row of being eaten alive, interspersed with four days of itching all over all the time can make a person more insane than you might think. Seriously, I nearly hit a certain "Heart of Darkness" state of mind.

Through a variety of strange coincidences we ended up just outside of town in a fabulous place called Coco Pando Resort. A little more money (by Honduran standards, but about equal to what we'd been spending in Guatemala), but wow, sheer luxury. Hot water. Clean bathroom. TV with cable. Firm mattress. Fridge in the room. Soft, fluffy towels. And a COFFEE MAKER!! Not to whine (because after a night here I'm feeling much better), but it's pretty challenging to find a cup of coffee in the morning. And the coffee we eventually find, long after we had to wake up for many other things, is well, not great.

We still have half a pound of Starbuck's coffee we'd picked up in Austin for camping. Oh the pleasure. Oh. Seriously. We were so excited, we had a cup yesterday afternoon as soon as we put our bags in the room.

Regretted that later as I was wide awake at 3:00 in the morning being feasted on by fewer, but more determined and hungry mosquitos last night.

Today, we checked into Spanish classes in town and visited the most fabulous butterfly and insect museum ever.

OK, Alan is waiting to use this one computer next, and we've got to get our laundry into the one shared machine. So I'd better run.

Lots more stories to share ... the interesting ex-pat characters and stories around here, and the guy who created the butterfly museum, and more. OK, Alan just asked again if I was done. Gotta go!