Eat It and Smile
In my family we have many Easter traditions, but being 3,000 miles away this year I missed them all. Instead, with no work to do and no food in the house, Anyssa and I decided to travel.
To say I have lived in Honduras and only know two cities does not seem fair upon my return to the States. I want to see more of this beautiful country I am now calling home, and I am quickly running out of time to do so. With only a destination in mind and little plan for how to get there or how we were getting home, Anyssa and I hopped on a bus in Teguc, drove up through San Pedro Sula, and ended up at the Copán Ruinas.
If you know my father, you know this is not how I am used to traveling. I am used to a plan, an itinerary, prepared weeks or months in advance and detailed down to the minute. I live for these schedules and predictability. Here, I am trying to be more flexible.
The bus ride took about eight hours. After dropping off our things at the hostel we went for a walk to orient ourselves and find a place for dinner. I would go back to Copán. The town square was full of restaurants, shops, and museums; each side street lined with pulperías, souvenir shops and bars. Funny enough, we discovered an article deeming our hostel to have “the best coffee in Copán,” and I would have to say, I agree.
On our first morning we hiked to the ruins. As “extranjeros” (non-Hondurans) we paid a hefty entrance fee, but it was well worth it. We walked through the park imagining what life was like when the Mayans lived here and marveling at the beautiful sculptures and structures they left behind. I was happy to play tourist with my camera and capture moments from the morning to be able to share and remember the outing.
The next day we took a trip to the Luna Jaguar Spa. An hour bus ride later and about as close to the border with Guatemala as you can get, we arrived at the hot springs. We covered ourselves in stinky mud, walked through a series of pools for a “pedicure,” and boiled ourselves for the remaining few hours. It was an afternoon well spent.
After washing the rest of the mud out of my hair later that evening, I stopped in the lobby to ask the owner where to catch a bus on Thursday to take us to Gracias. Apparently, there were no buses on Thursday, because the whole country shut down for two days as part of Semana Santa. He also informed me the hostel was all booked, and we could not stay past Wednesday night. It was Tuesday. And so began the most stressful 72 hours of my time in Honduras so far.
I missed having an itinerary and knowing our next steps. This clear failure to plan was making me anxious. I wanted to go home. We had not purchased tickets back to Tegucigalpa. With this new revelation about the buses, I feared we would never make it. But Anyssa insisted. Despite my discomfort, we paid our hostel tab and packed up that night, preparing to steal away on the first bus the following morning.
In the end it all worked out. We made it to Gracias, met up with Anyssa’s friend, and I had one of the most memorable Holy Weeks of my life. I helped make las alfombras, or the sand carpets that are a catholic tradition during Semana Santa in Hispanic culture. It was quite the day. We woke up at 4am on Friday morning and walked to one of the local churches, where already plenty of people were busied about working on the carpet. Bags and buckets of colored sawdust were everywhere. First, a layer of plain sawdust is laid down as the rectangular form of the carpet. Cardboard cutouts are used to create the rest of the design. We worked until seven: the first coffee break. Eventually I decided to follow the carpet to the end. The pictures and colors twisted around corners and filled the streets for blocks, ending at a magnificent, tall, white church.
When we returned home, our temporary host family whisked us away to “my sister’s house!” as we had been adopted into their family traditions for the week. We talked and laughed with the many sisters, uncles, and cousins we met that morning. Lunch was served later in the afternoon: a fish soup with a plate of rice and a whole fish, eyeballs and all. I am not used to my food watching me eat it and I was more than a bit unsettled.
Growing up I often heard stories of my dad’s travels around the world. I was amazed at all he had seen and know this contributed to the travel bug I have already succumbed to. One of my favorite stories was from a trip to Japan. While there on business, he attended a meeting where he was served bees and rice. Not beans; bees. Everyone else in attendance was excited. This delicacy had been prepared specially for them. “So,” he would tell us, “I had to eat it and smile.”
During my staring contest with the fish, I repeated this mantra in my mind. These complete strangers had welcomed me into their home. They had given me a place to sleep and now they were feeding me special food. It did not stop with the fish, although it got much more familiar with each plate: tres leches cake, shortbread cookies, and strawberry ice cream. Needless to say, I did not go to bed hungry.
Nothing went according to plan, but I do not think I will forget my one week ‘road trip’ around Honduras. In every city I saw the same kindness that welcomed me to Montaña de Luz, and the same kindness I hope to bring back home when I return to Ohio.