Honduras

Border crossings throughout Central America certainly don’t follow any rules or regulations consistently. When entering into El Salvador our passports were checked thoroughly and upon arrival we received a stamp, which any back packer will gratefully receive if it gives them a chance to gloat to their friends at a later date. When exiting the country however we had to hunt high and low for someone to even acknowledge our presence, and when we did eventually find an official looking bod they simply waved us off in vaguely the right direction after briefly glimpsing at our passports, I could have been carrying an over sized teddy with a poorly stitched neck which I'd received as a 'present' and nobody would have blinked an eye.

Our first stop in Honduras was Gracias where we bid farewell to the pupusas of El Salvador and said hello to baliadas, which turned out to be our staple diet for the next two weeks. These are basically fresh tortillas with a filling of beans, cheese, egg, cream and avocado. I can’t really describe why this is the food of gods, as let’s face it, it’s pretty much exactly the same ingredients we’ve been surviving on for the last three months but if you ask me nicely I’ll cook you one on my return and then you’ll be sure to understand. Gracias itself was a breath of fresh air as not only were we relieved to be in a new country but we were also in an area that many backpackers leave off their tight agenda and for that reason the town was reasonably unspoilt. Although sometimes a pain in the ass, it's usually a good sign to find a town with no hostel on offer. Whilst in Gracias we took a trip to the local hot springs, climbed the highest mountain in the country and ate the tastiest street food we’ve tried so far, although to be fair we haven’t done much sampling of such cuisine in fear of getting food poisoning. Not that the comedors we opt for are much better but tables, chairs and a menu can be quite a dupe in reassuring you that your food is no relation to the community of street dogs hanging around at your feet.


Its all well and good me updating you on the epic adventures Abi and I have had during our time in Central America but it's the little every day things that seem insignificant after 4 months that are actually what make this such a magical experience. For example Latino men’s hats. The cow boy look is highly popular here, whether or not this is purely to serve the practical purpose of beating off the sun is irrelevant, the bottom line is that these guys are effortlessly cool, and as a female, observing them is a total pleasure! The other experience that cannot go unnoted is riding on a chicken bus. These are basically old 50's school buses shipped down from the states that have been 'pimped up'. Each driver goes to great lengths to fashion his pride and joy to be the envy of every other young man, aspiring to one day rule the roads, resulting in a stunning array of colours and patterns greeting you at any bus station. This glamorous exterior is just the start, the real hook being the people that run and ride them. The drivers themselves would give any boy racer at home a run for their money and it is a regular occurrence to hear a thud above your head whilst the driver hurtles off indicating that his cohort is still attaching your bag to the roof. The juveniles manning these beasts clamber to and from the roof with such acrobatic style you wonder whether they were head hunted from the circus.


The title 'chicken bus' is a clear indication of the sorts of cargo you are likely to find yourself sitting next to, but besides being squashed between a box of live stock and a mother with three children balanced on her lap you are able to combine your journey with a full days shopping. At literally every stop at least a dozen vendors will get on trying to sell you all sorts of weird and wonderful things. Now this is pretty handy when you`re being offered food or drink but for every mango seller that hops on board at least two pill pushers will follow. Each merchant is guaranteed to start with a particularly animated speech on how the medicine on offer will change your life, and then proceed to hand out samples around the bus, quite incredibly the drivers appear to have no problem with this. By referring to these salesmen as pill pushers I'm not suggesting people try to openly sell you illicit drugs, I assume that the tablets on offer are perfectly legal, but I`ve never felt the urge to test this theory out as through my broken Spanish I can just make out the words 'brain' 'inject' 'growth' and 'problem'. Quite incredibly though its these self acclaimed pharmacists that get the most business out of the locals, which is more than a little disconcerting!

As I have mentioned before, the Caribbean cost of all of these countries differs drastically from the Pacific and the main land, and Tela, our next destination was no exception. Tela had the potential to be beautiful. Its garifuna culture instantly gives it a laid back feel, and being situated right on the beach it is a popular holiday destination for many Hondurans. Unfortunately Tela's streets, like many Honduran cities, are replete with litter. People seem to have no regard for the environment they live in and despite the crystal blue waters and perfect white sand of the beach, Tela's shore had little allure because of the countless bottles, plastic bags and other pieces of rubbish that permeated my path, needless to say we didn't leave it too long before we moved on.


From Tela we made our way to Utila which is one of the Bay Islands. These are a set of islands off the east coast of the country which are famed amongst back packers for being the cheapest place in the world you can learn to scuba dive. It may therefore surprise you that Abi and I opted not to take our PADI course, this was solely to do with funds as travelling to 11 months means you have to make sacrifices somewhere along the way. Still we managed to fill five short days on the island with other activities with great ease. The islands are teeming with wild life and on our first morning at our hostel, while eating breakfast we spotted several iguanas sunning themselves in the neighbouring field. We also caught a glimpse of flying fish on the boat on the way over, Abi managed to spot a whale shark and I had a special moment with a humming bird who I'm convinced thought I was a flower! We took a day trip to an uninhabited island near by which was like something out of a fairy tale, the sort of place you end up pinching yourself just to make sure your not dreaming. The snorkeling around the island was out of this world, and we spent several hours discovering various sea bound creatures including a star fish, a sting ray and various exotic fish resembling a selection of quality street with fins. We also Kayaked right through the centre of the island through a mangrove swamp and were greeted on the other side by a couple of local guys spear fishing lobster for their supper.


Unfortunately Utila itself resembles many of the destinations up and down the East Coast of Australia which have been descended upon by an assemblage of young middle class European back packers in search of sun, sand and sex but with little interest in culture, making every second establishment on the island a tour agency, bar or cafe. Now I`d be lying if I said I didn't enjoy partying til dawn or accruing a killer tan but after a few days I needed a reminder that I was in fact in Honduras and not in a very sunny Torquay. Having said that though, although they are hard to depict, the locals of these islands are quite fascinating. We would often see white people who we would assume to be tourists or expats, it was only when they spoke that we realised they were local and actually the descendants of British pirates. Pirates settled on the bay islands in the 17th century, it was the ideal base for raiding the Spanish gold boats coming from the Central American mainland.

Naturally with every backpacker in Central America making this routine trip to Utila we met up with a few familiar faces whilst on the island, one of which being Charles. Despite Charles' undiagnosed ADHD and tendancy to talk endlessly through 'ice cream time' (a special time Abi and I have discovered while on this trip which requires absolute silence when consuming said treat in order to fully appreciate its greatness) we decided to take him under our wing. So with Charles in toe we departed the Island, stopped briefly for a night in Comayagua before heading to Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras. Here we couch surfed, Abi and I stayed with Jose and his son Ernesto, while Charles stayed with his cousin. This was a couch surfing experience like no other, because Jose is one of the most perfect people I have ever met. I mean that in a slightly scary way. His apartment was an OCDers dream, resembling an Ikea show room with not one mug out of place. Jose himself was impeccably dressed, clean cut and a total gentleman who wouldn't let us lift a finger around the house, he even took us out for dinner and refused to let us pay. This is all well and good but spending time with perfect people can be slightly intimidating and we wound up feeling like we were holding our breath for the entire duration of our stay. Still despite being terrified of touching anything in the house in fear of disturbing the order of things, we thoroughly enjoyed the luxury of a hot shower and sofa and it was a real treat spending time with a Honduran who could actually tell us a thing or two about the history of the country.



Tegucigalpa has a few charming features including a pedestrianised centre, several museums and art galleries but unfortunately these are largely over shadowed by the absurd amount of fast food chains that imbue the city. By the same token the city also has a love for labels and drive by cash machines! This is largely due to the huge influence the States has had over the development of the country. The USA has a huge military base in Honduras, which, in all fairness, has had its positive influences as well as its bad, primarily being the fact that Honduras was one of the only Central American countries not to have a civil war in the 80's. The motivations behind the USA's interest in the country are clear, one of which being the investments it has in the countries exports. Its worth noting that in 1918 The United Fruit Company, Standard Fruit and Cuyamel (all American based companies) owned 75% of all banana crops Honduras, a statistic that changed little throughout the 20th century. Another slighly more random fact, that doesn't really relate to the above info but I'm going to throw it in there all the same, is that the currency, the Lempira, is named after Honduras' national hero who led 30,000 indigenous people against their Spanish conquerors in 1537.

Flitting from country to country in Central America, its easy to get their histories confused with one another but meeting local people and quizzing them to death is definitely a great way of distinguishing between them, and without doubt one of the most enriching aspects of travelling.

El Salvador

When asking other backpackers for advice about a country or a town it’s always worth bearing in mind that their experience of a place will be largely based around the people they encountered there, even the shabbiest of cities can be transformed into somewhere quite magical if you meet the right people. Obviously quite the opposite can also occur, which is why although I have no doubt in my mind that El Salvador is a stunning and culturally rich country, my memories of it are tainted. On first impression Manolo was one of the most charismatic people I’ve ever met, full of charm and enthusiasm for life but also one of these people whose confidence can intimidate you a little. Abi and I arrived at ‘Mumma and Pappa’s’ hostel in Tacuba after a long weary day of travelling so it was a pleasure to be met by such a odd ball host. Donning a t-shirt printed with the words ‘mono loco’, Manolo couldn’t have chosen a more apt piece of clothing. He quickly showed us to our room whilst warning us of the pet ducks that have a tendency to attack guests, which indeed they did and then ushered us back down stairs where he entertained us with tales of various encounters he’d had with backpackers. That evening he offered us his bedroom for the night to watch a movie in while he went out. We felt rather intrusive excepting this offer but our hunger for comfort got the better of us and we enjoyed an evening of being transported to a realm of fiction.

The following day Manolo insisted we take a tour of a coffee plantation with him free of charge, which again we gratefully accepted, but the more time we spent with our host the more uncomfortable I found myself feeling in his company. Manolo was a particularly tactile person which was a little over bearing for someone we’d only just met. He also made it quite impossible for Abi and I to explore Tacuba by ourselves as every time we attempted to leave the hostel he’d insist on driving us ,even if we only wished to pop down to the local shop. After a while we began to feel like his show ponies as he’d make a real point of driving with his music blaring and his windows wound down. Still when he offered to take us on a tour to the beach the following day it was a difficult offer to refuse given how much he had done for us for free, so along with a Swiss boy we accepted. The following morning he took us to the super market to stock up on snacks for the road trip. Whilst shopping he insisted that we purchase some alcohol for the evening even though he was a T-total himself. The three of us agreed that given our budget a few beers would suffice, to which Manolo looked quite put out. He insisted that this would not be enough and bought us a bottle of tequila, ‘his treat’. During the day Manolo’s slightly manic behaviour lost its charm. He took us to a crocodile infested river where he insisted on wading in and capturing one. You may assume this would be quite exciting but much like when a child with ADHD continues to pester you for attention to the extent where you refuse to give it, I felt a deep reluctance to appear too enthusiastic. That evening we were provided with a large camp fire right on the beach which would have been a wonderful way to spend an evening if it hadn’t have been for Manolo’s behaviour. He quite intentionally plied both Abi and I with alcohol while he didn’t touch a drop with the clear intention of taking advantage of us both. The next day after discussing the night with each other it turned out that both of us had ended up physically pushing him away on a number of occasions, thankfully neither of us got too annihilated and with the presence of our Swiss friend nothing serious actually occurred. Never the less, the experience left us both feeling uneasy, frustrated, and very much relieved to move on to a new town the following day. It’s a sad but true fact that western women are often perceived by Central American men to be 'easy' and therefore fair game.

So from Tacuba we made a swift exit to Santa Ana, of which we saw little more than the swanky new super market before moving on to Suchitoto, a pretty little colonial town situated next to a lake. I’d like to be able to tell you more about the place but I’m afraid my affection towards travelling had certainly wavered at this point and I felt quite fatigued by the lack of familiar faces in my life. It’s at times like these I realise how spoilt I have been with Abi’s company and how much I will miss her when she’s gone.

Despite being on a slight downer throughout El Salvador we of course still found the country’s culture, history and politics fascinating. El Salvador has a terrible problem with deforestation which is largely due to the amount of money that can be made from farming sugar cane. Indeed often throughout our time in Central America we’ve driven past fields alight at the side of the road which we later discovered to be the easiest way of harvesting sugar cane. During our visit the country was having a national election which, regardless of our personal interests, was quite impossible to miss. Every street we turned down was quite literately plastered with posters of the two opposing parties, FMLN (previously a guerrilla organisation) and Arena. To understand the significance of this election it’s important to have a basic grasp of El Salvador’s past. In a nut shell El Salvador was engaged in a bloody civil war from 1981 until 1992.During this time an estimated 75,000 people were killed, 300,000 citizens fled the country and the US government gave 6 billion dollars to the Salvadorian governments war efforts. Although the country is reasonably stable today, its infrastructure has obviously been shaken and one of the biggest problems it currently faces is gang related crime. During the war many young people fled to the US, which caused tension with the Mexican immigrants who had already staked claims over certain districts of various cities, particularly LA. To cope with this violence many young Salvadorians joined together to form an equally lethal gang called the MS13. Today many of these gang members are being deported back to El Salvador, bringing the problem home. With the proposal of solving this problem, along with the promise of lifting the working class out of poverty, soon after we left FMLN won the election. Whether or not this is a positive move forward for the country I am not educated to say but it certainly made it an interesting time to visit the country.