Tegucigalpa and our run for the border

After getting some good shut-eye in La Paz, we headed for Tegucigalpa where we would meet up with our friend Isai (the bike tourist from Mexico). Unfortunately, to get from La Paz to Tegucigalpa one must take the highway, and a very busy section of highway nonetheless as it enters the capital. So, not wanting to repeat a very noisy and at times death-defying ride (like we previously endured on the highway) we took the bus. We later learned that the highway we'd been following since entering Honduras is known as "the dry canal" because it crosses Honduras from the Atlantic (at Puerto Cortes) to the Pacific and many businesses use the route for transportation of products instead of using the Panama Canal. So, as you can imagine, lots and lots of trucks fly down this road. Throughout the 90km bus ride, we noted very arid forest, factories of course (Honduras is littered with all kinds of factories everywhere), and a few serious hills. Even when we travel by bus or car now, we seem to notice every incline. We knew before coming to Tegucigalpa that it would be the biggest city we've come across yet, but the size of the city was still a shock as we looked out the bus windows. Tegucigalpa itself is actually half of the city (or probably more like 1/4 of it), the city is split by the Rio Choluteca. One one side is Tegucigalpa and on the other is Comayaguela, where most people live and the markets are located. From what we saw it seems like Tegus is mostly office buildings, historical sites, fancy hotels, and really expensive neighborhoods. The Rio Choluteca is also the most polluted river we have ever seen. We could smell the stench from blocks away, piles of trash lined it's banks and floated along, and the water looked like sewage- black and sludgy. Looking at the river evoked feelings of hopelessness as the widespread poverty and corruption here evidently occupies most agendas and budgets. No one has the time or money to worry about cleaning up and taking care of the environment when the people can't take care of themselves or each other. Another natural resource gone forever.

We got off the bus in Comayaguela and met Isai shortly after. (We parted ways with Isai roughly one month prior in Belize when we went into Guatemala and he went the other way to continue South. Isai has extended family in Comayaguela and had been staying there for a couple of weeks already). We too were welcomed into the home of Dona Regina, Don Enrique and their son, Christian. We stayed there for a few nights while passing our time getting lost the city, doing a little bike maintenance, catching up on journaling, watching too much TV, chatting, and just plain ol' hangin' out. Some of the characteristics that defined our time in the city were people honking their horns incessantly and pollution galore (trash, exhaust fumes, and smog being the most plentiful). Something else that struck us as unusual and would NEVER fly in the states was the way the water system worked. At Dona Regina's house they had to have a water storage tank and a pump to distribute running water to their house. This is because in their neighborhood the city water only arrives every other day from 10PM to 8AM! That means that they only had running water provided from the city less than 25% of the time. They had adapted well though and it didn't seem to bother them watering their plants and starting the laundry at 10 at night. Numerous times in Honduras we were declined water after asking for a fill up because the water wasn't running that day. In a very small town where we stopped to fill up water, the kind woman who gave us some informed us that they only get water every four days. This is quite different from the States where if someone realizes they are without water in the middle of the night they call someone to come fix it right away, isn't that right Chuck?

We decided that it was time to head out of the in the direction of Managua if we were going to make it there in time for David's birthday. We headed out very early in the morning to try to beat rush hour in the traffic laden city. Within five minutes of leaving, Isai's chain broke open and we were immediately reminded of what it was like to travel with Isai, something always goes wrong with his bike. However, for the first time he had left Chicago he was actually riding on good tires and wouldn't be expecting many flats. We were back on the road in fifteen minutes and headed out of town the way we were told was "fastest." This "fastest" route included what felt like a circumnavigation of the city on a very busy belt route and finally 20 km later we reached our exit out of the city. We figured that it must have ben the fast route for those riding in cars. We decided to avoid the highway out of Tegus and take the "mountain route." On this route, we passed through mountainside and fancy neighborhoods, skirted the edge of La Tigra National Park, and of course climbed and descended multiple times noting the marked difference in air temperature every time. We stopped to eat our lunch at a bus stop in Cantarranas. We seem to have lunch in bus stops a lot. They're usually shady and have a bench, two things that provide much appreciated relief. The road out of Cantarranas to Villa San Francisco was dirt and lined with sugar cane and watermelon fields, which also means sugar cane and watermelon trucks of course. So, to save us from an upper respiratory infection or something worse, we donned our bandanas over our faces and set off down the road. We became the bad ass bike bandits...or at least pretended to be for a second.

The police of Villa San Francisco hosted us for the night and we camped next to their sheep (or maybe the neighbor's sheep). They liked to baaaa very early in the am, it seemed like they baaa-ed earlier than the roosters crowed. I now know not to ever invest in a Latin American alarm clock business. Very bad idea. From Villa San Francisco, we left for El Paraiso, just shy of the border with Nicaragua. The Paradise (El Paraiso) sure sounds like my kind of place I thought as we sidled up with semis and inhaled the hottest dry and dusty air. Through Danli we went and rolled into El Paraiso after a long day of cycling. We first went to the police station to ask if we could camp there for the night. Unfortunately, the boss wasn't in, but they directed us to a place across the street that likely could accommodate us. They described the place as somewhere "where people work, but not a factory or store." Hmm... But they had a parking lot, so we ventured on over to check it out. As we strolled in, we noticed some big garage looking stalls with solid metal gates. Weird, we thought, as no one ever has a garage here. Then, we went a little further and peered into an open stall where we saw a door to what looked like a hotel room. The cogs in our brains were slowly clicking and then we saw the sign: "Cuatro Horas por 180 Lempiras." In the words (or word shall I say) of Emeril, BAM-- it hit us, we realized all of a sudden where we were and we got out of there before we had to answer any questions. The sign said "Four hours for 180 Lempiras (about $10 USD)" and we were entering either a brothel or "no-tell-motel". Only in Honduras do the police direct tourists to camp at a brothel. We ended up camping in the yard of a family with very curious and energetic kids.

After setting up camp, David and I took a stroll into town to get some supplies for dinner and have our last Honduran beer (poor Isai got stuck dealing with the kids). We hadn't showered for a couple of days and were really tired, but the lure of that beer was too much to resist, so we went. On the way, we asked a man for directions to the centro and he responded with "El centro del pueblo o el centro de salud?" Wow, we must have looked much worse than we thought because he asked us if we wanted the town centro or the health center. I think that's when you know you need a shower. I'm sure Dave's beard doesn't help either. Nevertheless, we savored every sip of our beer and were ready for a new country in the am. Nicaragua.