So I’ve been home from the trip for a while and I miss CA (I know, it’s the American abbreviation for California and not Central America) . I dream of opening my own poutine stand, starting a hot dog stand (that’s from Senator J), renting a place out and hosteling it, or becoming a real estate agent. There are all sorts of occupations to do down here to make Central America more hospitable for travelers and I’m going to find one to entice people to explore the world more than currently do.
Everyone tells me that I should just keep writing, or make a book out of my travels . . . I think they’re right.
And the photography. Oh! The photography! It opens in the same window.
 OK, I’m kind of losing it here. I have been writing since 8 AM (it is now 2PM) and I think I am going to take a break for now. This picture is of the door to the hotel I kept my bike at when I was in Utila, and I do have a something to write about the trip to La Ceiba and how tiny this tiny gecko was, so the next sentence will be about that. And I need more instrumentals: I can’t write listening to songs with a whole lot of words in them. I have been cranking it to M83 and Thievery corporation for the entire day, now I’m on Chromeo, an LP completely devoid of instrumentals
Damn. As I began to complain about how sick I was of writing, I got this writing adrenaline kick and killed four sentences. Should I keep writing? OK, let’s keep writing for a few more captions. Maybe it’s the Chromeo, who knows. My ride from San Pedro Sula (pretty much the capital city of Honduras) to La Ceiba (the jump off point to Honduras’ Caribbean properties) was quite the bear. I woke up in the hostel to the sound of POUNDING rain and knew it was going to be an exciting day. I jumped on the bike at 9AM and planned to get to La Ceiba before the second ferry left at four. I figure if I budgeted seven hours for a three hour trip would be more than long enough, right? Well, my plan in El Progresso (about 20 miles outside of SPS) as I had already changed into a bathing suit, under armor, and a raincoat, was to ditch the bike with a mechanic, have him do the maintenance over the next week and pay him to garage it while I hopped into a warm bus to La Ceiba. It’s 10:30 and I finally find a mechanic. I tell him my plan, and he says “Oh, the rain will die down, it won’t be this bad all day, and I will have this work done for you in two seconds.” Even one of those statements isn’t a lie, I will be pretty much fine, so I agreed and let him fix the bike. I tell him when I need to leave by to make sure that I am able to get to the ferry on time, and since that time is 1:00 PM, even if he takes just about forever to fix my bike, I’ll be fine and get there before the boat leaves. Read more . . . |
