Safe Arrival in La Ceiba, Dec.28th 2009

La Ceiba, Honduras…. 10:30am and it’s already 28C (82.5F) with high overcast, 1000% humidity and brief moments of blazing sunshine!
Yes, Northern friends, you have permission to call me bad names but I’m barefoot and comfy and as happy as can be what with major construction happening in the hotel courtyard. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!
After a marathon 31 hour session of roads, airports, buses, security checks, border crossings and a maniacal van ride I arrived safe and sound at the Hotel Paris to find that not only did I HAVE a reservation (a small miracle) but that they had me booked into a ground floor room, just as I had requested (a BIG miracle). I truly didn’t expect it given how Honduras works…
In the past I’ve flown from San Pedro Sula to La Ceiba, on a small “milk run” ancient plane, running the gamut of whether the airport will be open when/if we arrive and paying $109 USF for the joy of doing so. If you’ve followed stories from past years you’ll know about landing in the storm that destroyed the pier (2008), the fact that there wasn’t enough new duct tape on the plane (2005) and other adventures entailed in actually getting to La Ceiba. And upon arrival at the LC airport there is still the additional $10 - $12 USF taxi charge to actually get to a hotel in the city.
Well, I may be somewhat slow in catching on to new tricks but I’m not stupid so I’ve discovered the trick of simply hiring a taxi from wherever I am in La Ceiba direct to the San Pedro Sula airport, complete with the driver dealing with the bags and being receptive to stopping en route. All for the grand sum of $100 USF! That worked so neatly when I returned to Canada last February that I deliberately didn’t book a SPS – LC flight this time, working on the supposition that I could just hire a taxi once I arrived.

Honestly, I think some of the folks from our Houston flight were still going through Immigration when I left the airport. Scooped up my bag, took off my socks and marched right through the airport to the outside patio. Politely declined the services of the money changers and negotiated with the first taxi driver who got to me and within moments was loaded into a van. I still have a problem with some of the money numbers (for the life of me I just can’t catch on to 50’s in Spanish) but when the fellow wanted $150 for one person I definitely understood and immediately refused! We finally settled for $120 and away I went on the next installment of my adventure. Post script: This is the cost for the whole taxi – if you’ve got other passengers, split the fee and save.
Actually, we somewhat flew… Drivers are completely insane in this country and taxi drivers take that to the psychotic edge with an element of carnival thrown in for amusement’s sake. Thankfully, I know this and with the additional caveat that the driver doesn’t really want to die a horrible, fiery death I simply put myself in their hands and try not to make any frightened noises. It’s conceivable that they believe that all gringas are naturally white knuckled, pinch faced and short of breath but I did really well without distracting him.

Speeds posted at 40km for the narrow switch back 2 lane highway meant that Enrique drove 80; highway speeds posted at 80km meant he drove 120km per hour – are you seeing the picture yet? Now, add in passing anything and everything with no regard for solid lines, signs or stray animals and children; then throw in a dozen or so small pueblos (villages) with lots of pedestrians, a few horse carts and finally add in the infamous “speed bumps” that are technically built right into the highway and you’ve got yourself an adventure! I think it’s quite clever that enterprising persons have chiselled out the speed bumps to accommodate drivers that don’t want to slow down, though generally the flat spots are in the opposing lane therefore…. You fill in the rest of the sentence!
In one of the smaller pueblos, in one of the brief moments that he wasn’t doubling the speed limit we had a small incident. As we were passing a knot of folks, adult and children, all clustered intently around something on the ground, I got curious and stuck my head out the window to see what was happening.
I’m not certain of the chain of events after that but some details remain. A loud burst of rapid-fire large popping noises, a good healthy shriek from me, finding myself crouched down into the tire well and Enrique howling with laughter and slapping the steering wheel with absolute glee.

I just wasn’t expecting the fireworks.