Hell disguised as Paradise

I had a great idea. Let's go to Miami! A beautiful Garifuna village on a roughly 50m wide swatch of land between the Carribean and a lagoon, pristine beach, thatched huts, local cuisine and culture... Todd quickly veteod my plan to bike the 20k from Tela, the not-so-cute and quaint town we were using as a base for this exploration. He must have remember our bike experience from Bordeaux. Anyway, after some convincing he was keen on the idea of Miami as long as I compromised on taking a taxi. Done! We left one bag at the fairly

nasty "Hotel" MarAzul with promises of staying another night upon return. We were off in our taxi and I was pretty damn excited. The aerial picture we saw in the tourist office looked like paradise without the hoards of tourists and big hotels that usually come with such a place.

A wonderful scenic ride with a very chatty taxi driver, apparently everyone in Honduras has family in the states, and we were there. We arrived at the beginning of town.

The sun was bright, the ocean waves rolling onto the shore, while the still lagoon rested with peaceful contrast. I was ready for this paradise, this cultural experience. May it redeem my ever increasing negative thoughts of Honduras. We were quickly greeted by a 70 year old drunk man and a woman, Nany, who was fileting a fish. They said we could camp for free as long as we ate our meals at Nany's. Done! Free place to stay, we had to eat anyway so why not just eat at here place. Besides the fact, there were few other options. The scene was set.

As the old man went to retrieve two Salva Vidas for us we took in the sites. True to the picture, thatched huts, beautiful ocean, still lagoon, and hammocks for wasting away the day. Our conversation quickly turned to the idea of staying for 5 or 6 days. Todd changed and we were off to enjoy the wonderful ocean. My first time in the Carribean sea and I quite liked it.

Nany prepared a nice lunch for us. Fried fish, rice and beans, and fried plantains. The rice and beans were a great surprise. The only beans we have seen so far have been refried. But since the Garifuna are traditionally from the Carribean and not Honduras this makes sense. They are actually descendents of escaped slaves from the island of St. Vincent. So, they have maintained very African customs and cuisine while interbreeding with native Hondurans, creating a very unexpected, to me anyway, combination of culture on the coast of Honduras. I just didn´t even think of the very obvious fact that large black communities would be present in Central America. Anyway, the food was so delicious that Todd and I had to drink more beer and rest in the provided hammocks for the rest of the day.

Paradise? Right? Well, paradise ended with the cool breeze. Immediately, we were attacked from all angles by sand flies as the humidity engulfed us. I used to think that black flies were the worst possible biting insect, but at least they are detectable and therefore stopable. Sandflies hurt and are inconveniently about the size of this period. with harder outer layers making quick slaps frivouless attempts at death. We hunkered down and hoped for the best. Nany and friends kept asking us if we had repellent. Apparently, Todd and I are the only gringos without repellent. Maybe a walk on the beach would help, nope! Still full from lunch we skipped dinner.

Luckily, the sun set around 6:30 so we took shelter in our tent, scratching our way to restless sleep in the stuffy tent.

We woke up with great hopes of a sandfly exudus. Again, no luck. And just a quick note, I have to pause about every minute to itch different parts of my body, so this blog is taking a little bit longer then expected. Right now, it's a hairline flareup. Anyway, after a quick breakfast from Nany, who is proving to be everything but warm and fuzzy, I hit the beach. The only apparent place of escape. So for the rest of the day, I laid on the beach letting the waves roll over me and letting my mind wander. Every now and again, a quick swim was necessary to rid sand from those precarious places. Todd tried to relax in the hammock but he quickly came around to my point, the beach was safer. So a couple more hours in the sun and I was burnt. The obsessive thought of sandflies led to my reapplication neglect. Now, I am burnt and itchy. Not liking Honduras.

Our dreams of 5 days ended with the agreement to leave the following morning. After all the sun I could take, we tried the hammocks again. Todd was mauled by the 3 children. Their obsession with him was very amusing. Nany and family never did prove the warm cultural experience I had so magically pictured in my mind. They were actually quit rude and made us felt like we were in the way. The old drunk man was the nicest of the lot. The ocean was beautiful and the lagoon still, yet the once beautiful sand was just a nesting place for little deamons and apparently a lot of the trash. I never will understand the concept of throwing garbage about in the same place you call home. So, you see where this is going. We were out on the first morning truck.

And now, back in not so beautiful Tela. I will keep trying to find something good about Honduras, but so far, it just keeps letting me down. We may be making an early exit?!