Puerto Cortes to Siguatepeque, Honduras

The day before we left Belize for Honduras, we met a man named Escalante who told us repeatedly, "Honduras is busy. Everyone is busy busy, all the time." At the time, we didn´t think much of his statement because people tend to repeat themselves in conversations A LOT in Belize. But, this has proved to be more true than we imagined. As soon as we docked in Puerto Cortes, money changers and taxi drivers inundated the boat to try and get some business. After escaping the hulabaloo and half-understanding three different people´s directions to the immigration office, we were on the road and thought we´d ride to San Pedro Sula after getting a quick stamp in our passports. But, as we have become pretty comfortable with now, the day didn´t quite go according to plan. It took us one hour and several circles of the city to find the immigration office a few miles away. Because it was getting late, after that "quick stamp" we decided to stay in Puerto Cortes for the night and leave early in the am for San Pedro Sula. Besides, pretty much our whole wardrobe was dirty (beyond hand-washable dirty) and we could get some laundry done while hanging out in Puerto Cortes. We found the lavanderia, which was about to close, gave them our laundry and were told to come back at 10 am the next day to pick it up. We both looked at each other and smiled knowing that we were both thinking, "I guess leaving early isn´t in the works for us either." But, when in Honduras, do as the Hondureños do right? We have discovered time is a very flexible concept in Central America.

The ride from Puerto Cortes to San Pedro Sula was loud as we were on the highway and there were lots of buses and big trucks. We had planned to ride toward the coast after San Pedro Sula and spend a few days doing the beach thing, but several people along the way told us that going that way was very dangerous. So, we threw our plans out the window once again and headed further inland to Lago de Yojoa the next day. On this stretch of highway, we discovered how truly crazy Hondureño drivers are. While eating a snack under a tree on the side of the road, we witnessed three near head on collisions in about 20 minutes. I mean, so close my heart was in my throat for a few seconds. Luckily, the highway had a decent shoulder for us to ride on at least. We have decided to avoid the highway pretty much all together from now on.


Before we were able to view the famous Lago de Yojoa, we climbed a mountain. Not just a hill, a mountain. We saw a radio tower at the top of a mountain while cycling through the valley below. We were talking about how cool it is to finally be in some real mountains, not realizing that we would have to climb up and over the top of these "cool" mountains. After reaching the top and seeing the radio tower at eye level, we finally decided that we are in shape now. The day was spent cooling off in the Pulhapanzak waterfall, lounging in the grass of the park, and then setting up camp in the Balneario (riverside park) for the night.

The next morning, we left Pulhapanzak and continued climbing up and up and up through some little aldeas (villages) before getting to Taulabe for lunch. In Taulabe, we sat down at a little restaurant for lunch which ended up being owned by an Argentinean who was so impressed with our trip that he charged us nearly nothing for a big lunch. As we waited for our food, I opened up the newspaper sitting next to me and there realized just how dangerous the area we were planning to travel to on the coast really was. The article was about homicides in Honduras and Central America and included statistics. On average there are about 140-150 reported homicides in Honduras per month and pretty much all of them are concentrated in a small area around San Pedro Sula or on the coast. Glad to be out of that area. Now we understand why the locals were so insistant that we travel inland. Out of Taulabe we climbed another mountain to Siguatepeque where we would stay for the night.

Before pulling off the main road into the centro of Siguatepeque, we stopped at a gas station to ask where the hotels were. While we were here, we met a man named Alex and struck up conversation for a bit. Alex is from Siguatepeque, but currently lives and works in North Carolina while his wife and daughters live in Siguatepeque. He comes back to Siguatepeque once a year or so to visit, but has lived in the states for nine years now. As we were about to leave and find our abode for the night, Alex offered to host us in his home for the night. After about 3 seconds of skepticism, we accepted and enjoyed a great night with him and his family. Alex´s wife Guadalupe is an English teacher and so Alex, Guadalupe, and their oldest daughter Alice all spoke really good English. It was really nice to have more in depth conversations with local people and laugh because we really got the joke and not because we were just trying to pretend like we did. Alice, Eliana (Alex´s second daughter), and Alice´s boyfriend Alex took us for a tour of Siguatepeque and later we spent the evening talking to Alex about immigration and his illegal entry into the US. It´s very hard for Hondureños to get into Mexico as well as the US and so fees for coyotes (people you pay to sneak you across borders) are steep. Alex said he paid $5,000 USD nine years ago to get from Siguatepeque to the US border. The coyote from the US border to Houston was supposed to be another $1500 USD. Just after crossing into the US, he was camped out in some bushes for a few days waiting for their coyote to direct them to the next location. In this location he said there were about 200 people camped out all with different coyote groups. One guy went crazy and started yelling and screaming and a patrol car pulled up and started shining lights, so Alex and his two friends ran off to hide elsewhere. Shortly after, he said more patrol cars showed up and started shining lights, more patrol cars in one place than he said he´s ever seen and the sky was so bright it was almost blinding. They ran and ran for hours until finding a place to sleep near a junkyard. They never saw their coyote again. The next morning, they slowly crept out of their sleeping place and started to walk. Soon after, they met a woman who spoke to them in Spanish and told them she was from Honduras, she obviously knew what they were doing based on what they looked. She took them in, gave them clothes and food and assisted them with getting past the border checkpoint between Brownsville, Texas and Houston. She hooked Alex up with a woman with a couple kids and a sports car. Alex showered up all nice, put on nice clothes and hopped in the sports car to drive through the checkpoint. He had a cup of coffee in his hand which, if he took a sip while talking to the border patrol, was the kids cue to provide distraction. At this point, Alex spoke virtually no English as well. Upon getting to the checkpoint, the officer asked where Alex was born. He took a sip of coffee and the kids provided enough distraction for him to process the question long enough to answer "Brownsville." The officer then told him to pull over into another processing area. Luckily for him at this point, the checkpoint got busy and the next officer that came to talk to him simply asked if he was born in the US and only asked for the papers of the woman and kids, which they had. The officer was more suspicious Alex was sneaking in the woman and kids than vice versa. From here, he drove on to Houston where he paid the woman $1000 USD for her help. Alex said that nine years ago, he was really lucky he made it and that now it´s much much harder. Soon after getting to the US, hurricane Mitch hit Honduras so hard that all Hondurans in the US could apply for a special visa that allowed them to stay legally (kind of like getting refugee status). Alex was then legal and employed in the US. Now, he works at the airport in Charlotte, NC and sends money home to his family.

It seems like most people we´ve met in Honduras have either lived in the US at one time or have family or friends who currently live there. We have also seen many more American fast food chains and American products in the stores here than in neighboring countries. You all may think that when you give your old clothes and shoes to Goodwill they end up on someone´s back in the same state at least, but no, there are stores selling used "American clothing" everywhere here. We even saw a man wearing a "Team in Training" shirt here in a mountain town of 600 people. Despite it´s poverty (or more likely because of it´s poverty), the American influence in Honduras is more visible than anywhere else we´ve visited yet.

Before leaving Alex´s house in the am for La Esperanza, Guadalupe cooked us up an amazing breakfast of eggs and beans with fresh cheese, toast, grilled cheese, some cookies and coffee. That big breakfast proved to be much needed for the GIANT hill up to La Esperanza. We are so grateful for the friends, stories, and delicious meals we have enjoyed so far. Thank you Alex, Guadalupe and family for your kindness and generosity. Hopefully, we´ll be able to return the favor in the future and show you all of you a "real apple tree" in Washington :).