Trip to the Beach - Hamptons vs. Honduras

We arrived, in the dark, here...Puerto Cortes "Beach".... It's all GRASS....beach?????

The only purified water they had at this restaurant was out of bag....why do they serve liquid out of a bag everywhere? It tasted like plastic.

Local "jam" band in Omoa. They were REALLY good.

Now, THIS is more like it. La playa in Omoa.

Hamptons:

Friday afternoon. Grab overnight bag from under desk and sneak out of the office at 20 till 5. Walk 3 blocks to the Hampton Jitney "bus stop". Stand in line with other preppy NY'ers. Jitney pulls up right on time, hand over the print out of my (weeks in advance) prepaid ticket. Hop on.

Honduras:

Friday morning. Talk amongst other volunteers, decide on spontaneous beach weekend upon recommendation from Spanish teacher. Back in Copan after school, seek out tourismo travel agency. Communicate in broken Spanish, ask not nearly enough questions, buy ticket (at most likely an escalated gringo rate), go home, pack. Look up name of la playa in lonely planet book--not listed. Second guess said spontaneity. Grab backpack and walk to "bus stop". Argue in more broken Spanish, hand over legit (phew) ticket, hop on Tourismo bus. Aisle seat.

Jitney:

Get situated, stare out window and wonder how long it will take THIS Friday to get out of the city... Nice bus attendent in green Jitney polo comes through offering water or juice, pretzels or chips, and a newspaper. Take water and pretzels, pass on newspaper.

Tourismo:

Get situated, open suspicious curtains on window, and wonder, "Will we make it? Will we get robbed? Is there a bathroom on this bus?" Stop every couple miles to pick up more people/locals. Large Honduranian man comes through selling homemade bread and red juice in a plastic bag. Pass on both.

Jitney:

Stop once in Queens to pick up more New Yorkers...and we're off! Comfortably settled in, with book in hand-forget about all the traffic. Glance back every now and then to see if I recognize anyone on the bus. See a few familiar faces. Keep reading.

Tourismo:

Stop for the one hundreth time...pick up more locals. Being that there is now no available seating, locals are lined up in the aisle. Subsequently, am elbowed in the nose by a small child. OUCH! Continue reading. Machismo stands DIRECTLY next to me. Touching me...hovering. UGH. Try and peek past sketchy curtains, winding through beautiful mountainous scenery. VERY large elderly Honduranian woman presses boobs and belly into my self. Glance over at Lyndsey. Try very hard to supress laughter. Can't. Large breasts now resting on my cheek. I am half in my seat and half in Lyndsey's. Ponder....is this really happening? Belly and boob contact continues for the next 9 minutes. Stop again. Locals run off...knocked out by child's small backpack.

Jitney:

Arrive at expected location around expected time. Walk to summer share or sailboat. Enjoy the beach and the weekend.

Tourismo:
Arrive at confusing bus station in big city-San Pedro Sula. File off. With no direction whatsoever, wander around looking for connecting bus to Puerto Cortes (final destination). Spot a Pizza Hut. Yum. Focus, continue searching. Finally find the exit, ask first Honduranian we see where the bus to Puerto Cortes is. He points straight out to his bus, of course. We ask zero questions and blindly hop on to a small overly air conditioned shuttle. He charges us 42 limperias. A STEAL! Wonder, "where are all the gringos (white people/tourists)?" SURGE through San Pedro Sula with the door to van open, accumulating and losing more locals. It's simulates a drop and roll sort of effort....

Two hours later (we were told around 45 minutes from San Pedro) realize we are the last three on the shuttle. Look out windows at grimy grimy small city.

The two operators ask where we are going, in Espanol.
We reply, "Puerto Cortes."
"Aqui."
"Ummm....where is the beach??"
"You have to take a taxi."
"How far?"
"Diez minutos."
"Where do we get a taxi?" (Oh, please please please don't make us get off here!!!)
"Wellllllllllllll.....I guess we can take you for same price as taxi. 100 limperia each."
"100 EACH? But it is only ten minutes away??? You charged us only 42 for a 2 hour ride...."
"Do you want to get off and take taxi?"
"NO NO NO, ok. Ok."

Arrive at la playa.
"Here are the hotels. This one is cheap and that one is expensive."
"Only two?"
"Si"

To make a long story short....

We ditched the cheap dodgy hotel, walked around a bit (in the dark) and finally came upon a reasonably clean sleeping establishment. Overpaid for one night. Ate cold grilled cheeses and fell asleep to the hum of a keyboard and Honduranian man serenading to NO ONE....out by the pool.
Woke up early the next morning in search of the beach....found what we expected. Hopped in a cab and headed to the next beach town, one I had actually read about in my Lonely Planet nerdy travel book--OMOA!!!!

Found great little Canadian-owned bed and breakfast at the end of the beach. Settled in and soaked up the sun and the Caribbean seas for the remainder of the weekend.

PERFECTO :)