A Stormy Day in Corozal

Corozal, a small Garifuna village just outside of La Ceiba, has always been a favourite runaway place for me when I decide to escape from the city. By chicken bus (retired, dilapidated school buses) it takes about half an hour to wend your way through La Ceiba and east along the highway, stopping constantly to pick up locals and their bundles, for the princely sum of 11 Lp.

It's not your average tourist destination, no fancy restaurants or nightclubs, no mega malls or air conditioned bars, but it is built along the Caribbean Sea and no matter the level of poverty, nothing can deter from the draw of the ocean for me.

I've watched the changes over the years, the influx of Spanish Hondurans and the occasional "gringo"; some signs of larger homes being built, though not always finished. A large hotel and restaurant was developed on the most easterly end of the beach but now appears to be somewhat empty and neglected. Overall, most of the village is still the same, for me and the people who live there.

Generally, I’ve gone out on sunny days just to spend the afternoon walking the beach, collecting seashells or playing in the waves and then finishing the day with a cold beer and a great seafood meal.

This past Sunday I just couldn’t wait out the pounding rain in the city so bundled up, grabbed my “brolley” and took myself out to Corozal in the hopes that there would be less rain. At the beginning it looked like I may have guessed right – slight sprinkles during the drive out, marginal pitter-patter of rain while walking the beach – but then it all went to that proverbial hand basket down under! The wind roared in, the surf got thick, heavy and dirty brown, and the skies smashed rain down upon the whole of creation!



There is a long established restaurant, “Tio Fito’s” at the west end of the beach that is a weekend runaway for folks from La Ceiba, as well as being a hang out for locals folks, and though there is almost no English spoken there, the folks who run it are quite adept at making sure you get what you need.

By the time I made my way through the village, I arrived at Tio Fito’s soaking wet from the waist down, clutching the remains of my umbrella which had been blown inside out for the final time and simply revelling in the energy of a great storm. Tucked myself into the “locals” side, which also happens to be farthest from the screaming jukebox and curled up with my scribble book while waiting for my meal.

I’m not much of a fish eater, but always look forward to their “Camarones y Ajo”, simply the best garlic prawns I have ever feasted upon. In hindsight I should have taken a photo of my dinner plate – tons of fresh prawns, coconut rice & beans and “tajadas” (sliced plateno that is fried to be both crisp and tender, rather like our “french fries”) but couldn’t wait to start feasting!

As is common here, I shared my leftover tajadas with two little boys, who under the pretext of selling “pan de coco” where also hanging about hoping for donations of leftovers. I had watched them finish up other plates, quite hungrily but also very politely stacking the dishes at the wash up area. Over time, the children have learned to beg for money, which I heartily refuse to give but at the same time, I do feel it’s completely sinful to waste food, thus my own little donation to their cause. And was amply rewarded by their saying “Gracias, amiga” before they dove in to the food.

No matter the pounding rain, blowing sea mist and soaking wet blue jeans, yet again Corozal gave me yet another delightful afternoon adventure…

PS Sorry about the lack of finesse with positioning the video and photos - Blogger doesn't always cooperate with me!

I Brought My Wool Sox

Welcome back to La Ceiba, Honduras folks!

Last year, December of 2008 and January, 2009, I was whining about the cold, rainy weather and stated that next year I would bring back my wool sox.

I did. I also brought along a pair of heavy hemp sweatpants, a favourite warm sweater and extra pairs of blue jeans. People were convinced (yet again!) that I was crazy. I wasn't....

I realized a few years ago that I had acclimatized to Honduran weather and when it is cold, windy and rainy for days on end, I am freezing!

I just shake my head at the fact that back in 2004 and 2005 I didn't bring a single pair of blue jeans or socks with me. I remember walking down the street, in the worst of the weather wearing light cotton trousers, bare foot in my sandals with a bath towel over my head and shoulders against the torrential rain. Oh, how my world has changed!

The cold damp gets into your body and soul; even with the benefits of a non-leaky roof, glass in the windows, extra clothes and bath towels complementing my fleece blanket at night, you just can't shake it. It's dimly dark through most of the day, with nightfall occurring shortly after 5:30pm and the wind whistles and wails through the gaps between the window frame and the walls and in under the doorways.

We had a great weather day on January 1st which I celebrated with beach walks in a skirt and tank top, followed by endless days of rain pounding and smashing on the tin roofs at all hours of the day and night. On January 8th, the weather gods gifted us with a day of sunshine peaking through broken clouds and held off the rains until the following afternoon.

This week has been even worse by local standards with temperatures dropping to the high teens Celsius (equating to mid 60's in Fahrenheit) with very high winds coming straight off of the north Caribbean Sea. I just don't know if I can wait for another Friday to see the sun again!

Paradise isn't all beaches and beers, fellow Canadians - sometimes it entails freezing your butt off! Regardless of my tongue in cheek whining, I am simply horrified for the poorer local population; I'm not joking or exaggerating when I say that people will die of exposure or respiratory diseases due to this lengthy cold spell. So if you pray, please pray for the locals. This transplanted Canadian woman can tough it out!

I Should Have Brought My Wool Socks....

This morning my apartment registered a staggering temperature of 67F (19.5C) at 8:00am.

When I went to bed last night it was a cool 70F. After spending the early evening fetchingly garbed in socks, blue jeans, layers of tee shirts and a toasty bath towel, I decided to finally break down and close all of the window louvers in the hopes that the apartment would warm up during the night. It didn't.

The good news is that there has been no rain in almost 24 hours and the stiff WNW breeze from yesterday did stop. The sun has been trying to peek out from the dark clouds hovering against the mountains, but sadly isn’t producing much in the way of actual heat.

I’m starting to wonder just where it is that I am trying to live.

We had reached amazing lows in the high 60’sF in late November during the rainy season which is also Honduras’ version of winter but it is now nearing the end of January and spring is supposed to be happening here.

After attempting to avoid reality, I finally broke down and checked into the La Ceiba airport weather report and have now given up hope. The good news is that there is only a 20% to 30% chance of rain over the next few days; the bad news is tomorrow will be just as cool running from a low of 16C to a high (huh?!) of 24C with very gradual improvement until the end of the weekend.

Today’s adventures will be either purchasing a wool sweater and yet another pair of socks or checking the bus depot and the travel agent and escaping to Costa Rica, once I check the weather reports. I checked, it doesn’t look any better than here, so it’s off to buy a sweater for me.

To all my Canadian friends and family, I’m not asking for sympathy, nor am I willing to hear your comments about the weather in your neck of the woods. It’s supposed to be freezing up north! Next year, I am definitely bringing my wool socks to Honduras….