December 26th
and 27th
Transit
Due
to the infelicities of post-September 11th airline schedules, it is
truly impossible to fly from Boston to Honduras without an overnight
layover. I believe one can attain
such distant ports of call as Taipei, New Delhi, even Sydney while sleeping only
in the air, but a simple six-hour journey to the Central Time Zone has defeated
us. We therefore find ourselves
overnighting at the semi-exotic Houston International Airport. Our sole amusement is the toy-sized
railway that travels around the airport terminals – it holds perhaps 30
(friendly) people per train and has the feel of a poorly-designed Fantasyland
ride. One expects animatronic
airport workers to finish the construction while whistling a happy tune.
At
check-in we are delighted to discover that our entirely non-upgradable fares
have nonetheless landed us in first class. We begin the first of many obeisances to the gods of
Continental Airlines. Finally all
those long waits (generally involving bad pizza) seem almost worthwhile. As we’re in First, we even rate
breakfast.
Arrival
at San Pedro Sula follows the standard pattern of smaller tropical
airports. Passport control with
much investigation of previous visas (yes, that does say Cambodia). Endless waiting in a large crowd for a
sight of battered green duffels.
The fight to handle one’s own bags. Searching the crowd outside the doors for that friendly
“Wilderness Travel” toucan logo. Quite
normal. Until we realize that
there is no friendly toucan in view.
We are initially unperturbed – the crowd is friendly, the weather
fine. We are not on a flight with
others from our group, so perhaps there has been a mix-up. After a while, we approach some very
professional tour guides to ask for help getting a ride to our hotel.
A
small travel tip for those of you without a great deal of time to read prior to
your vacation: Be sure at least to
learn something about your first destination, and perhaps look up some key
locations on a map.
A
cab to San Pedro Sula we can find quite easily. A ride to Copān Ruinas, some 2.5 hours away, is a larger
challenge. Some investigation
reveals a lack of working phones and a fellow refugee. It seems we are comparatively
fortunate, as she has been waiting some four hours. A call to the emergency “I’m lost in Honduras and need a
ride” number has yielded her no noticeable results. The three of us discover that the very friendly tour guides
are going our way and can take us along if we are truly stranded. Combined with an airport terminal
featuring ample plumbing and a Wendy’s, it’s hard to claim a crisis at this
point. Still, not the best start
to our trip.
All ends well, however, as the next arriving flight brings the rest of our group and our very apologetic, very confused, transportation. We load up for the ride to Copān, near the Guatemala border. This is clearly a different world than some past trips – we’ve traded the very undeveloped world for gas stations with Coke and packaged ice cream that take $. Civilization, indeed.