We spent a few days in
The hilltop also hosted a few playgrounds whose monkey bars we tested out, and a maze with walls so short that only Kelly could have hidden behind them (Ross and I just closed our eyes when walking through to make it challenging).
We also formed our travel plans for the next few weeks—Kelly was meeting up with her friend Firuzeh, who was coming down for a last-minute trip, while Ross and I were going ahead with the original plan of hostel-hopping on the North Coast of Honduras and in Guatemala for a couple weeks.
Erinn and Kelly proved they are saints by driving Ross and me to the bus station at 5:30 AM so we could head off to Tela, a Caribbean beach town in northern
Our first hostel, Hotel Marazul, was a complete disaster—highlights included a light bulb hanging out of the cracked wall, a toilet without a seat, a crumbling shower, a mutant-sized cockroach in the corner, and a fan that made us choose between being hot and having cobwebs blown all over us.
We kept that room for all of 2 hours--it held our stuff while we walked around for a while—and then we escaped to a better hostel nearby. When we passed Hotel Marazul later on and noticed a few flagpoles across the street from it, Ross named it “Six Flags over Shithole.”
Our second hostel was decent. The shower may have shot out only cold water with enough force to slam you up against the wall, but there were pluses, like meeting a cool Swiss girl (we named her Swiss Miss) who had been traveling in Central America for the past 6 months. She gave us some useful info on some of the places in
We took a lot of pictures with the gnome in Tela—lounging on the beach, in front of the Tela “skyline,” and spying on people while hiding behind condiments at our favorite people-watching outdoor restaurant on the beach.
The restaurant was part of a nice hotel, so it was a gold mine for observing vacationers and trying to figure out their stories.
We got some good shots of fashion trends that might catch on. For example, there was a guy wearing a cowboy hat, bright pink polo shirt, gray Speedo, socks with tennis shoes, with a neon yellow bag casually thrown over his shoulder.
Our favorite group of tourists to watch was the American mother with her two teenage daughters, and the European guy who was suavely trying to hit on the mom throughout their stay there. We first noticed them when the European guy sat down at their table and did some corny dance moves to the music that was playing, to show the teenage daughters what a kooky, cool guy he was (one glanced at him sullenly, the other one fake-smiled). Ross and I decided he was probably the type of guy who said things (with an accent) like, “I am the great person!” and “Never have you met the person like me!” We later observed him perched on one of the railings next to their table. “Look at how casual I can be!"
Then he showed his finesse when talking to some guy with a boat on the beach. “Look, I connect with the locals!” And, displaying great strength, he stood with his arms slightly bent at his sides in what we called the “Go” position, ready to leap into flight at any moment. Later, when just he and the mom were at the table, he bought her some coconut bread from a little girl (“Look at all of the great qualities I have! I am good with the children!”). A few days later, we saw the older teenage daughter walking on the beach with him, holding his hand, and then a couple hours later he took a stroll down the breach with the mom. Then all four of them took an awkward photo together on the beach.
Another cool thing about our people-watching beach restaurant was that, like many restaurants in Tela, there was a pet cat running around that we could play with. He only had one enemy: a girl about 7 or 8 years old who would chase the cat and pick it up in what looked like the most uncomfortable position possible, as the cat helplessly protested “reeeeee-aaaaaar!” She presented the cat with a dish of French fries stuck in Thousand Island dressing—every cat’s favorite thing. For a good half hour, we saw the cat running around the restaurant trying to evade this girl. Since she clearly had a gift for understanding cats, Ross called her the “Cat Whisperer.”
But, the highlight of the Tela, at least for me, was the tour we took to Punta Sal – where we did a short hike through a tropical forest, followed by snorkeling and lunch on the beach. After a 40-minute boat ride to Punta Sal, we made a quick stop at Cocalito beach so our guide could tell the Garifuna families how many fish to catch for our lunch that afternoon. A few minutes later, we arrived on the
This was the cast of characters on our tour:
-Our guide, Marc, 30s
-Two girls serving in the Peace Corps in Honduras
-A quiet, polite British man
-A mother and her young daughter.
-A forty-something couple from Austin, TX who were overall nice people, but represented everything people hate about American tourists.
As soon as we pulled up to the shore of Parque Nacional Jeanette Kawas, the brilliant questions started. The woman from Austin (we’ll call her “Doreen Ray”) asked her husband (whom we’ll just call “Francis” because he wasn’t from the south), in a loud voice, “Who did he say that park’s named after? Jane Goodall?”
Ross and I noticed that she was also sporting a colorful tote bag that said, in big letters, “Guatemala." Clearly, she goes for the authentic native weaving patterns.
The first thing we were introduced to on our hike was an exclusively local tree that grows a special fruit--the fruit is called something close to “Nico,” and Marc noted that it’s a hot commodity since it has strong immune-boosting properties, making it particularly helpful for AIDS patients and other people with weakened immune systems. (He further explained that fruit does not, however, cure AIDS, a fact which confused a few of our fellow tourists).
Within the first five minutes of our jungle hike, we passed two huge spider webs that completely fascinated the younger Peace Corps girl and the gruesome twosome - Francis and Doreen Ray. They took about fifteen pictures and a video, while Marc, our guide was trying to move along so he could show us something cool – “Don’t you guys want to see some monkeys?”
Once everyone pulled themselves away from the spider webs and caught up to Marc, he pointed at the howler monkeys in the trees and imitated their call, setting off a chorus of aggressive grunts from the monkeys in the trees above us. He did this several times and a few people from our group tried it too. Then there was Francis, who barked like a dog, got no response from the monkeys and said, “Ha-ha! Well, that shut ‘em up.”
Francis: Genius-at-Work.
Marc also showed us some edible bugs (termites) that supposedly taste like carrots and cleared coral snakes from our path and told us to watch out when grabbing vines for support because a few days ago a woman on his tour had accidentally grabbed onto a python hanging from a tree. But while Marc was busy educating us on things that were actually interesting, here are some things that made Doreen Ray exclaim, “What’s this!?!” causing Marc to backtrack to explain:
1) A tree stump.
2) Jungle sand (hermit) crabs that Marco had already pointed out to us just a few minutes earlier.
Francis and Doreen Rae bumbling their way through the hike
Marc also showed us Puerto Escondido, a sheltered cove in the peninsula, where Captain Morgan and other pirates docked hundreds of years ago. Historians believe that Captain Morgan may have used this hidden cove as a burial site for pillaged treasure.
After our tropical forest tour, we got back in the boat to head to
Exiting the forest so we can head to Cocalito Beach
Along the way, Marc stopped at some rocks that formed a tunnel you could swim under, which Marc called the “tunnel of love.” As soon as Francis heard he could jump in the water, he was over the side of the boat. He and the two Peace Corps girls swam through the tunnel and we picked them up on the other side, but not before Doreen Ray whipped out the camera to capture a great moment to show the folks at home - Francis showing off his backstroke moves. Unfortunately for their friends in
Marc also stopped the boat to point out a flock of frigate birds:
Marc: “These are frigate birds.”
Doreen Ray: “What? Fraggin’ birds?”
Marc: “Frigate birds.”
Doreen Ray: “Freakin’ birds?”
As we were approaching our snorkel spot, Marc told us we could either jump out into the water and snorkel our way to shore, or ride the boat in to shore and then snorkel from there. As soon as he heard the words, “swim from here,” Francis was climbing over the side of the boat saying, “I want to swim from here!” He was almost over the side of the boat when Marc said, “Easy, killer. Don’t you want a (snorkel) mask?” For his constant eagerness to jump overboard and swim, Ross and I started referring to him as “Sir, please get back in the boat.”
Snorkeling was really cool – when I jumped off the boat it just looked like a lot of rocks and dark spots under the water, but once I went under with the snorkeling mask there were so many plants and fish and textures and shapes and colors and an entire detailed topography that I never would have thought existed there.
After we swam to shore and made our way toward the boat to sit and relax for a while, Ross and I had front-row seats to the Doreen Ray and Francis Variety Show. It all started with Doreen Ray looking toward the boat, which only Marc and the chauffeur had been sitting in. When Francis and Doreen Ray were about twenty feet from the boat, Francis mentioned in a subdued tone that he had a few lempira in his bag in the boat, to which Doreen Ray replied, in a voice loud enough to be heard by the comatose, “And I have my change purse in there, it BETTER still be there!”
Ross and I soon found ourselves lounging in the boat with Doreen Ray and Francis. Ross said that as he was getting in the boat, Francis and Doreen Ray were talking about how the British guy on our tour had just told them he lives in Perth.
“I didn’t have any idea where that was!” Doreen Ray announced.
Ross turned away, knowing what was coming. He started laughing to himself and when he turned back towards the boat, Francis gave Ross a smug smile, like he was doing Ross a favor, and revealed Perth’s secret location: “Australia.”
Doreen Ray chimed in, “Where did I think it was?
Francis soon jumped out of the boat again. In the water, he found one of those fruits Marc had shown us earlier that boost the immune system. Francis turned to Marc, “Hey! Is this the fruit that cures AIDS?”
Marc replied, “Nico, yes, that’s the fruit we saw earlier.”
Francis then smiled as a brilliant idea came to him – throwing the fruit as far as he could onto the shore. He cocked it behind his head and gracelessly chucked it wearing a self-satisfied grin while he held that awkward post-throwing stance for a few moments, so we could all admire what a crazy, fun-loving guy he was. He then took off swimming, while Doreen Ray went ashore for a few minutes. After she waded back out to the boat, scowling as she aggressively pushed debris out of her path, she mused, “I wonder where my husband is.”
I looked out in the water (because, where else would he be?) and saw among the snorkelers one person splashing and showing off his artful swimming strokes.
Garifuna village at Cocalito Beach, where we stopped for lunch
Finally, it was time for lunch, which the Garifuna families prepared. It tasted amazing. We had an hour or so to relax on the island, so Ross and I explored the two-family Garifuna village (which took about five minutes – we just walked on down their paths connecting their huts and looked around). We spotted another tour group that included – who else – the European dude and the mom with her two daughters. We tried to figure out how that came about:
EUROMAN: “What are you doing tomorrow?”
MOM: “We’re going on a tour of Punta Sal.”
EUROMAN: “What a coincidence! I was thinking of going on the same tour! Hey, maybe we can spend some time together?”
Ross and I also relaxed in the hammocks and in the water for a little while. Francis, on the other hand, couldn’t be still for more than a minute, entertaining himself with such pastimes as (1) staring at the chickens, (2) plunking rocks into the ocean (we think he was trying to make them skip), and (3) lying on his back in the sand, flailing his limbs in the sand to make sand angels as the waves splashed over him. It looked like a scene in “From Here to Eternity,” gone horribly, horribly wrong.
Meanwhile, Doreen Ray was lying in one of the hammocks, getting a tan, legs femininely spread wide on either side of the hammock, when Francis saw this as an invitation to (1) try to sit on top of her, and then later, (2) sneak up on her and startle her by scratching a rough stone against her foot. Ross and I saw it unfolding as soon as Francis picked up the rock to examine it. We could hear his inner monologue: “The edges of this rock are not entirely smooth, I KNOW!” Doreen Ray just laughed and gave Francis an “oh, you” look.
Their little “meeting of the minds” (as Ross called it) lasted a few minutes, until Francis spotted a fallen coconut nearby. He picked it up and looked at it, then he glanced sideways as a smirk slowly spread across his face. Showing off his keen intellect, Francis heaved the coconut into the air, only to drop it with a thud before glancing around to see if there were any witnesses.
When Doreen Ray had had enough of the hammock (and Francis had wandered off somewhere), she decided to try out the next logical resting spot: lying on her back on top of one of the picnic tables where we had just eaten lunch. She also had some great ideas for comedic capers, glancing at the hut where the Garifuna families had prepared our lunch and saying “I should try to order a pizza – that’d really freak ‘em out!”
Finally, we boarded the boat to head back and as we neared town, Doreen Ray was full of more brilliant questions and insights. “What’s that?! Is that a house?” She asked Francis, pointing to a hotel.
“No, it’s a hotel.”
“What?!”
“A HOTEL!”
Then, noticing the basins local women use to hand wash clothes, she loudly announced, “Well, I couldn’t do that! Give me a washing machine or give me a divorce!”
Finally, we docked and got off the boat. Ross and I started walking back to our hostel. Doreen Ray and Francis were walking right behind us, wondering aloud why a shuttle bus from their hotel dropped them off, but couldn’t pick them up. “Well, that’s really nice,” Doreen Ray said sarcastically. “I guess they just bring you here and make you walk all the way back.”
They were forging ahead full steam on this expedition more than halfway down the street, when Marc called after them, “Wait! Where are you guys going? Your bus is coming in a few minutes.” Marc was probably debating letting these two get away as quickly as possible, but decided he didn’t want to unleash them on the unsuspecting locals.
Ross and I could not believe our luck a few days later when we found ourselves behind Francis in the checkout line at the local grocery store. Not one to miss any opportunity to throw something, Francis spiraled a pair of flip-flops over our heads back to Doreen Ray when she decided she didn’t want to buy them. He then told us, “The security guard at the front of the store said I could pay in US dollars!” When it came time for him to pay, Francis presented the cashier with – no joke – a hundred dollar bill. Stores in Tela rarely have change for a five hundred Lempira bill, worth about twenty-five bucks. The cashier looked amused and after a manager was called over to figure out a solution, they were finally able to give him change (probably by emptying out bills from every cash register in the store).
But, could we have expected anything less from our unstoppable duo?
Goodbye, Tela!
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