Mayan Food Then and Now...

Our sixth day in Honduras was fantastic. We woke up early and had another great breakfast at our hotel, Casa de Cafe. I had waffles, fruit, juice and coffee. I knew I was going to need a filling breakfast for the hike ahead so I devoured every crumb. After that we walked through town in search of the road to the ruins. It was a wonderfully peaceful walk along a cobblestone path. There were interesting glimpses of daily life along the way: we bought yet another corn husk doll from two young girls, we saw a rancher leading his cows out into the fields, and we watched people walking out to the ruins for work or play. At the entrance to the ruins we met a nice guy from Israel named Avi and ended up sharing a guide with him for our trip through the ruins. The guided tour was fantastic: beautiful views, tons of information, and photo opportunities galore. I learned more about early Mayan culture than I ever thought I wanted to know. I learned the grisly details of ball games and human sacrifice, the Mayan beliefs about the afterlife, and how the royalty lived.



After the tour of the ruins we went to the museum. After having such and informative guide through the real thing the museum was a bit of a let down. I found myself learning more about Israeli politics from our new friend than I did about Mayan culture. So after a casual stroll through the artifacts we headed down the road to the second set of ruins. This was where the common folk lived. Our guide there was Spanish speaking, but easy enough to understand. He showed us how the average citizens spent their time... where they buried their dead (it turns out that they laid grandma to rest under the bed...yikes), how they spent their time, how they made a living, and what they did for fun. Finally I got to the place in the tour where they showed us the ruins of a kitchen and I asked the question that I'd been wanting to ask all day. "¿Qué comieron?" (what did they eat?). Our guide turned to me and said "carne, frijoles, calabaza, maíz, plátanos y tortillas" (meat, beans, squash, corn, plantains and tortillas). I wanted to laugh... because that is just about the exact thing you find on the platos tipicos of today... and it is almost the exact thing that I had eaten for lunch and dinner for the past few days. I guess it goes to show that when you get it right the first time, there is no need to change a good thing?

Cold Water in Paradise

On the evening of our fifth day in Honduras we ordered a bottle (or two) of wine and dined on cheese and bread at a cosy wine bar not far from the central plaza in Copán Ruinas. We enjoyed an assortment of breads and crackers with smoked mozzarella, an aged Gouda, and a soft cheese with Herbes de Provence. It was all nicely presented on a cheese board with a handful of pecan halves. Other than the crackers (club crackers rather than water biscuits), it was something that you would find in a cafe anywhere in the world at at least twice the cost. It was a lovely place, and the perfect place to end a pleasant day.

The day started out with a wonderful breakfast at our hotel. Eggs and toast served with rich coffee in a beautiful garden by a friendly staff. We walked around town and caught the World Cup games. We even found a few cute gifts for our daughters. I couldn't have asked for more. Well maybe I could have asked for a room with reliable hot water... or at least someplace with electricity that didn't flicker out at even the suggestion of a thunderstorm. Dining by candlelight is romantic... but stumbling back to the hotel in a blackout, using snatches of reality seen through lightning strikes, can be a bit tricky... and taking a cold shower (or no shower at all) after a night of candlelight and wine can do a lot to kill a mood.

But that is Honduras. Things that most of the world sees as luxuries not only grow on trees... but fall to the ground and rot because they are so common... Beauty abounds and it seems that you could never go hungry with so much life surrounding you. But what if you get sick and need a doctor? What if you just want a glass of clean water? Or what if you want to do something as trivial as mail a letter, buy a watch, or make a phone call? That is when the rose color glasses come off. The lack of hot water in my hotel room is a petty gripe in comparison to the real problems that people face in a country that lacks infrastructure.

Don't get me wrong... I'm not saying that Honduras isn't a wonderful place to vacation... In fact I think that you should go there and spend lots of money, if you are so inclined. Buy wine and cheese with abandon, get a good massage by the ocean, and shop yourself silly. Sure there are better ways to give money to those in need (and you should do those things as well)... and I'm sure most of the tourist dollars spent in Honduras don't go to those who need it most... But a vacation is to be enjoyed not something to feel guilty about. Go there and have a good time. Just remember that when you take that cold shower.... for god's sake have the sensitivity not to complain about it.... because things could be a lot worse.

The World Cup in Motion... or How to Drink a Heineken in Honduras

While planning our trip to Honduras I was delighted to find out that Honduras had qualified for the World Cup... The last time they qualified I was in braces... well I never actually wore braces... but if I had it would have probably been sometime around 1982. In this years cup they were underdogs for sure... but I was rooting for them all the same.
By the time we arrived they had already been eliminated... but there were still plenty of soccer fans to be found...and I was excited about watching soccer in a country where people actually care about the game. Due to the timing of our trip, however, the first day of the quarter finals was set to be on one of our day long travel days. We actually considered staying in Roatán one day longer just so that we could watch the games... but alas we decided to head for the mountains on our fourth day in Honduras and hopefully catch the games on the road.
We caught the first half of the Netherlands vs Brazil game on the ferry to the mainland. Thankfully the ride was smooth sailing compared to the stomach churning ride we had experienced just a few days earlier and I was able to watch the game. My husband was born in the Netherlands... and most of the people on the ferry were fans of Brazil... but it was a good natured rivalry with a lot of laughing and back slapping. Maybe it was just because Honduras and the US were both out of the running... but somehow I don't think that was the whole story. Honduras just seems a little mellower about their soccer than my World Cup experiences in Mexico.
The taxi ride to the bus station in La Ceiba was a bit scary. We were one of three fares stuffed into a small Toyota... honking, swearing and swerving down narrow streets. We stopped somewhere Central... and then made our way to the hospital with a girl with a broken leg...then finally we arrived at the bus station. We were able to watch a little more of the game on a small TV while we waited in line for our tickets... we got to see the Netherlands pull ahead... but we had to leave with ten minutes left on the clock.
It was hours before we arrived in San Pedro...and no one seemed to know the final score. We had a long layover in a room full of other people who had been on the move most of the day... While we were there we watched most of the game between Ghana and Uruguay. The room would fill and empty with each coming and going... Everyone trying to catch a glimpse of history in the making on their way to some place else. The game was just reaching its exciting conclusion...there had been a red card and the game was still tied after overtime... it was a shoot out and we had to board the bus. Thankfully the bus driver put the radio on so that we weren't left on pins and needles...It was a sad day for Ghana... but it was a beautiful day in Honduras.
For the next few days in Copan Ruinas we caught games at bars and cafes around town. We enjoyed a meal here... a beer there... the company of other travelers with jerseys supporting this team or that. It was a lot of fun meeting people and cheering with them or against them. My favorite world cup experience of the journey happened after one of the worst moments of our trip... it will be a story for another day... but let's just say when your staying in a finca in the mountains don't leave nothin' in your clothes. We returned to Copan a day early after a trip to a coffee plantation in search of a place to stay. The hotel we chose just happened to be owned by a Dutch Ex-pat... so we watched the Netherlands vs Uruguay while eating Dutch food and sipping on Heineken. Dutch food isn't all that great... and I'm not a huge fan of Heineken either... but it sure tasted better than the Honduran beer I'd been drinking for days...It also put a postive spin on an otherwise crappy day. It was nice to share a beer with fellow soccer fans and to let the negativity of a bad experience wash away in stream of Heineken. I enjoyed the moment under a canopy of orange and white streamers , marveled at what a wild and wacked out world we live in ,and lived to enjoy another day of travel.

Banana Pancakes in a Banana Republic

Our third day in Roatán found us back at the Beach House for breakfast. I had banana pancakes, freshly squeezed juice, and coffee against the backdrop of sparkling Caribbean waters. It seemed like a Caribbean breakfast to me... after all bananas grow in Honduras...right? So on my return I decided to look up the origin of banana pancakes and see what I could find out. I still don't know who whipped up that first batch of fruity hotcakes... What I did find out, however, is a tangent for sure, but very interesting indeed.
In South East Asia The Banana Pancake Trail is a euphemism for the routes and places that are most visited by western tourists. This is due to the mark that travelers have left on local restaurants and hotels that now serve this common Western breakfast dish. While my travels have been exclusively in North and Central America... This got me thinking...Am I just some Lonely Planeteer who is changing the faces of the places I travel with my hunger for starchy, overly sweet breakfast foods?
Travelers have been changing the face of the Bay Islands since Columbus's voyage there in the early 1500s...once upon a time, when the Spanish wiped out the entire indigenous population with small pox and the measles. Since then Roatán has been occupied by military forces as they grabbed for colonies and political power... It has been a hide out for pirates... an outpost for escaped slaves... and a banana republic where fruit traders ruled. In comparison my lust for fruity pancakes seems a pittance. Tourism is after all only the most recent in a string of economic endeavors that has altered the culture completely.
Today tourism is what the economy of Roatán is built on and what the culture revolves around. I'm sure that there are worse ways to make a living than giving cruise ship patrons an afternoon massage or being a dive instructor for American and European college students... but tourism is a tricky business. In 1998 Hurricane Mitch brought it to it's knees, recent political uprisings have also caused travelers some alarm and the simple lack of infrastructure is a barrier to travelers. I wish them all the luck though. It is a beautiful country with a lot to offer. Hopefully the banana pancake trail of Honduras won't be paved with banana peels... It could be a slippery slope indeed.
For my part I spent my last day on the island doing what travelers do. I ate, relaxed in a hammock, bought souvenirs from the locals, got a massage, rented snorkeling equipment... and spent as much money as I possibly could... Oh and I ate every last bite of those delicious banana pancakes.

Sea Life and Seafood....

On our second day in Honduras we woke up early. The combination of no daylight savings and being closer to the equator bent time a bit, and as a result we had to force ourselves to catch a little more sleep before breakfast. When we decided that a decent hour had finally been reached we headed out for breakfast and got our first real view of the Half Moon Bay (other than the view from the taxi cab). We had a hearty and wonderful breakfast at a place called The Beach House. Our breakfast consisted of eggs, beans, avocado, sour cream and handmade tortillas with fresh squeezed juice and strong Honduran coffee. After breakfast we headed back to our hotel to change into our suits and take that first plunge into the ocean and catch a glimpse of the reef.
We borrowed snorkels, masks and fins from the hotel, walked a few feet from our cabin door, and stepped into a whole new world. A world of colorful fish and coral. A world that swims in shoals and breathes with gills. It was breathtaking and a little scary. I'm a novice at snorkeling, my only experience being the San Marcos River, but I still managed a few good swims and the sea life I saw on my excursions was worthy of any IMAX flick: Damsel fish, parrot fish, needle fish, and conch... the next night I even saw a lobster and an eel. Too many fish to name. The variety and colors of the fish were amazing. After a long swim I found myself getting a little hungry... sure I had eaten a hearty breakfast, but I couldn't help but wonder... What does all this beautiful sea life taste like? Do parrot fish taste like parrots, do damsel fish taste like damsels, and what about conch?
The seafood on the island wasn't bad... it just wasn't great. I was hoping for a catch of the day that I had never caught anywhere else before or an exciting preparation that I hadn't experienced. What I found, however, were shrimp dishes that I could have experienced anywhere... and a surprising lack of interesting fish to taste.
I had an excellent meal at an Argentinian restaurant... but what made the meal wasn't the shrimp dish, but the bread sticks and the interesting side dishes. Paul's meal was somewhat more exotic... he had wahoo steak cooked on a traditional Argentinian grill with a pear sauce that was very nice. This was by far one of the best meals on the island... but the preparations were Argentinian and not Honduran.
For lunch another day we returned to the beach house. I had shrimp kabobs...it was a tasty meal but once again it was Cajun and NOT Caribbean. The only local specialty that I had in Roatan was conch balls...We had them our first night there at the hotel restaurant. Sadly they were over-cooked in oil that should have been changed long ago. They tasted like fishy, chewy hush puppies.
When we have vacationed on the beaches of Mexico what I experienced was a celebration of food. On one vacation Paul and I slept on hammocks under a palapa. We basically had the same meal for lunch and dinner the entire time that we were there: whole huachinango (red snapper) fried with garlic sauce. You would have thought that the repetition would have made it boring... but that wasn't the case. It was just so good that there didn't need to be anything else to eat. On another trip to beaches of Mexico I experienced similar seafood fiestas... a botanas bar that served tiny crabs, ceviche and other tasty tid bits... and an incredible seafood market with fresh beautiful seafood we could take back to our hotel kitchenette and grill. I guess I was longing for something like that on the beaches of Honduras.
I was expecting to find a variety of seafood in the local restaurants. I wanted to be blown away... and I certainly was by the beauty of the marine life. I was not, however, blown away by the taste. Most of the dishes I had were over-salted and served in a creamy garlicky sauce that wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't outstanding either. Perhaps if I had explored the island more I might have found the perfect market or an outstanding meal... maybe next time. One things for certain, however, I will never forget floating over the reef and looking at all that beautiful life in the deep blue sea...

Getting There...

We left my sister-in-law's house at 6am on June 29th and headed for the Houston airport to catch our flight to Honduras. The travel gods must have been smiling on us because everything that day was timed perfectly. When the airplane took off I felt weightless. All the stress of planning was finally over... I knew I'd miss the kids, but I was ready for the ease of travel without little ones in tow.

We arrived in San Pedro Sula a little late due to a tropical storm in the Gulf... We rushed to a taxi and headed for the bus station. We made it with only two minutes to spare. The bus was not exactly primera class... but it was "mas o menos" direct. It was a windows down (or permanently sealed shut), broken seated kind of bus... loud, smelly and bumpy. Due to our rushed arrival at the bus station I had to pee for the first hour I was on the bus... I was hot, grumpy, teary eyed, and slightly overwhelmed, but after that first stop I was ready to take in the sights, sounds and SMELLS of Honduras.

The countryside was beautiful, and if it had been sterilized (like it was later in the trip) by the clean, air conditioned interior of a primera class ride, I might have had a more picturesque view of Honduras. It was tropical and lush with interesting people and things to look at. Cars, trucks, motorcycles and horses traveled down the same narrow highways... women washed laundry in the streams... farmers hacked at the jungle with machetes. Except for the litter it was truly beautiful. What made it totally real, however, was not the view... for that was only a part of the picture. That part of the picture could be viewed from travel pamphlets and glossy magazine spreads. What really made it real was the sounds and the smells. The sound of honking buses, blaring music, people talking and laughing... The smell of roasting meats and tropical flowers, livestock and burning garbage, disinfectants and rotting vegetables. Put it all together and you have Honduras!

We made it to La Ceiba at 4:15... the last ferry to Roatan was leaving at 4:30. Once again we made it with only minutes to spare. At the time I was starving (my last meal had been on the air plane that morning) but thankfully my stomach was empty for the ferry ride to the island. It took all my concentration to keep the sea sickness at bay... but I made it... sweaty palms griping an empty plastic bag... safe to dry land.

We took a 20 minute taxi ride to the hotel on half moon bay, checked in, shrugged off our travel cloths and took a cool shower. After that the vacation part began. A couple of cold beers and a decent meal. Paul had the blackened fish and I had a shrimp in cream sauce. They were both served with a salad and a Caribbean-style rice dish. We also had what was supose to be a local specialty, Conch balls. They were cooked in overused oil and just tasted like fishy hush puppies. Overall, however, it was a pretty good meal.

After dinner we took a relaxing stroll into town. We were ready for anything... it had been a good day.