At five o´clock the taxi driver showed up. We pulled up to the gate, this time he decided not to go under it. We walked my bags to the terminal, two women were at the Sosa counter and 1,826 Limpare later and five minutes later I had a ticket to Tegucigalpa, Honduras. I didn´t have a ten, I have my driver a fifty and he returned thirty, fair enough. I checked my backpack, which in the US would have cost me a $75 overage. Spying the food court, I set up camp and continued programming. At ten to six a little kid ran up with 90 eggs and opened up the restaurant. At precisely six some woman presumably his mother entered and the shutters were opened. I order juevos ranchero and a coffee. Twenty minutes later I was served, my flight leaves in twenty minutes, but I am too hungry and this is too good so I finished off and got my coffee. This wonderful meal cost me 140 Limpare. I had to pay my airport tax of $2 then it took about 30 seconds to clear security.
We sat around and then some incredibly hot chick came in with a low cut dress, perfect everything and a lot of it showing, but it was a sun dress over a swimming suit on a tropical island; it didn´t look slutty. But every guy in the room turned his head. Even the guys with their wives and the wives just understood.
Time to watch a little TV then a ¨"Paso verde primero, rojo segundo" or something close. My boarding pass was red, I moved to the second group. It was funny looking at the guys faces when stunning hot walked down the aisle, the seats at the back had filled first, who would it be. The look on the guys face she sat next to was priceless.
All the craft were thirty passengers or so turboprops.
We took a fourteen flight to Ceiba, deboard the craft, the guy was asking us where we were going to give us boarding passes to our destinations without asking to see our tickets. We went into the terminal, another plane took off, and five minutes later we were boarding again. Some of us, miss hot wasn´t there.
Forty minutes later we pulled into Tegucigalpa. Some Americans in Roatan told me that Honduras was the poorest country in south america. I´ll have to check that out, I doubt it is true on a per capita basis. The houses were all very nice, late model cars in the airport parking lot. I met a taxi driver. Strangely enough they weren´t crowding the doors. Very smartly dressed man in gray suit and brown shoes. I told him I needed to get to a bus terminal to take me to Rivas, Nicaragua. Like the way I preplan this stuff? He started yelling to an American it is yelling down here it is just an excited extremely high volume level talking. I think he was offering to drive me to the border and I could get a bus there. Hell the border is five hours away. Nice car by the way, what kind of honda is this? A huge amount of space in the back room. We drove through down I took some pictures, short block buildings, barred windows and doors, old men leaning in door ways watching the world go buy and huffing bus exhaust. Young men clustered on stoops. Horns blaring, exhaust. Dirty streets, litter free being swept by women with brooms too small for the task, pushing upgright in that strange way they do down here. I wonder how long those brooms last.
Half an hour later we pulled into a tiny block building. I recalled this spot, that woman over there sodomized on a currency exchange last time I was here. The guy at the counter told me in spanish that they were all sold out, for $20 I could buy a ticket for 9:30 tomorrow. Fuck me, in the ass, with a hot poker. I inquired if there was another bus company in town he wrote down the name and advised me that they would be leaving today at two but cost $40. Ok, I get to leave today, the company is still in business so their busses must be a lot nicer than Tica Bus, let´s go. My driver took me over there, we pulled up in front of a hotel a shotgun toting guard in front a nice looking hotel. No, no, no, I don´t want a hotel for the night. I want to get the hell out of here. He walked me inside, sure enough it was a bus company. I bought a ticket, checked how much it cost to leave this country, $2. When you do it at the airport it is $25. She kindly gave me a place to store my bags. I asked where an internet cafe was. Three blocks down the street.
Buses, bus farts, fruit vendors, people hanging out of buses yelling their next destination, horns, more people yelling, more horns. About fifteen police men, in armored vests holding old assault rifles. I held up my camera, "Permissio", sure. The puffed out there chests and flexed a cop on the porch noticed and laughed.
I took a movie of two minutes of street traffic. I believe you´ll say, ¨"Yup, don´t need that." A big guard standing with his shotgun with a menacing look on his face in front of a bank. "¿Donde este cafe internet?" He snarled at me, looking like he would take a step back if he weren´t leaned against the wall. "Internet, computadora". No comprehension on his face. I pulled out one that worked before, "Facebook" made a silly face and pretended I was typing. He laughed put his gun in one hand and pointed down the street.
I entered the mall, put my hat on manequin´s head, took a picture, then asked the girl to pose for my collection. She was flattered and loving it, you´ll see by her face. Now I in the internet cafe having just caught up except for pics. I think I´ll go see what other wild stuff I can find three or four blocks from here.
Catch you tomorrow.
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