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!

When things go BOOM in the night...

The clouds had moved in late afternoon yesterday, forced up against the “Nombre de Dios” mountain range and layered, deep and black, over the city of La Ceiba until you felt you couldn’t stand upright for the sheer weight of them above you. The waves on the beach surged and salt spray coated your skin and lenses almost immediately, blocking the view of the nearby park and the traffic on the main road.

The winds howled and roared and whipped laundry from the lines, buckets and brooms off of patios and threatened to tear your clothing from your body as everyone hustled to get indoors before the storm broke.

And then we waited as the wind blew harder, the clouds lowered, the pressure built and still no rain fell. The storm waves smashing the beach raised their decibel levels to the point where they echoed through my apartment, almost two blocks away from shore.

Surprising, the electricity stayed on! This is a small miracle in its own right, here in La Ceiba, and a massive improvement over the past five years of service (or the lack thereof!).

My day starts early, so sleep comes shortly after 10pm and thus I was curled up in bed when the skies opened. Imagine the force of a flushing toilet’s water churning down the pipes and then expand that power to cover a whole city.

Streams and sheets of water smashing straight down while the sky blurred from the almost horizontal waves of rain cascading by; dozens of rhythms crashing, ricocheting and dancing to triple time. The sound of this onslaught on the tin roofs was akin to a steel drum band run amok!

I’m accustomed to the fury of a tropical torrential rain storm now, so simply went back to sleep, grateful that I was warm and dry in my wee abode.

Hours later there was this horrific BOOM that woke me from a sound sleep! I laid there orienting myself, wondering if it had been a bomb or something similar. Car alarms in the next street had been set off and finally were stopped; I heard no one stirring in the house or people in the street, so simply listened to the rain until I slept again. Shortly thereafter, there was a second explosive sound seemingly not as close by and the ensuing car alarms were finally silenced yet again.

When I woke at 5:30 am my neighbourhood was surprisingly silent and it took time for me to realize that though the rain was persisting and people were stirring in the pulperia (corner store) downstairs, there were no radios, stereos or TV’s blaring.

Then the light went on… The power was out, the explosions I’d heard during the night were transformers and the only electrical activity there was going to be was with my braincells!

I’m so impressed that we were re-supplied with power by noon today. Many times in years past it would be considered normal to go 18 – 24 hours with nary a complaint!

It’s now after 6pm and the rain has yet to stop. Generally we’ll get a break of a couple hours between storms where you can taxi downtown for groceries or walk to a friends for a visit but not today! So it’s been a “home” day, with a fresh pot of homemade lentil stew, a good story book, some postcards written for Northern friends and family and a heartfelt wish that I’ll be able to leave the apartment tomorrow without fear of drowning!