Blood pressure rises in Tegucigalpa, Honduras
The people of Erandique were very helpful and assisted me in catching a minivan shuttle, instead of a chicken bus, out of town. There was more leg room, it was cleaner, and a smoother ride. It left at 5:45 AM, traveling through the cloud forest and descending to La Esperanza. There I boarded another bus destine to Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras. When I began the trip down the mountain, I was undecided whether I should continue my stay in Honduras and tour the Olancho Valley, a place hardly visited by anyone including Hondurans, or exit Honduras and begin exploring Nicaragua.
Descending from Erandique in the mountains to La Esperanza
Minivan travel preferred over chicken bus
The six and a half hour journey from Erandique to Tegucigalpa presented me the opportunity to weigh the factors and make a decision on where would be my next destination. I found out from Chico Poncho there is no “institute” of “Local and Regional Historical Studies” nor a “Honduran Institute of Anthropology and History” in Catacamas, Olancho as I thought. There had been a conference sponsored by these groups in Olancho and I made the assumption that an institute existed there. With the absences of these resources, I didn’t think I would find the local history and stories I was seeking. Besides, my visit to Erandique already yielded valuable knowledge and insight into some of these accounts and history. Chico Poncho gave my inquiry direction. An incident happened that convinced me that I didn’t want to risk another visit through Tegucigalpa, which I would have to passed through again if I traveled to Olancho.
I arrived in the confusing, hectic, congested capital of Honduras and was overwhelmed by its size. It is spread out over many miles covering a valley and surrounding mountains. At the arrival bus station I boarded a taxi to take me to another bus terminal to catch a bus to either Olancho Valley or a city close to the border with Nicaragua. The taxi driver put me on edge with his demeanor, questions, and behavior. It’s common practice in Latin America to fill the cab to capacity. It’s rare that you ride alone. The driver was quoting the cab fare to the other three passengers in lempiras, the Honduran currency. He quoted my fare in “dollars” and it was much higher than the other fares. I’m thinking, I’m being overcharged because I’m the only foreigner in the car.
Tegucigalpa spreading out through the valley and surrounding mountains
As we drove around dropping off passengers, he asked me, “Where’s your camera?” That’s an odd question. I told him it was stolen in Mexico and no longer had one. He then asked, “Do you have a laptop? All Americans travel with their computers.” I told him I don’t use one; and that the only thing I have in my backpack are my dirty underwear and clothes. I’m starting to get real suspicious about this guy. Why does he want to know if I have expensive electronic equipment? He dropped off all the travelers until I was the only one in the taxi. He proceeded to drive away from the central business district into a poor, rough looking neighborhood. There was gang graffiti on the walls of apartment buildings. It was on fences, on retaining walls of tenements, it was everywhere. Tegucigalpa has a significant gang problem. In some areas the police will not patrol and have ceded the territory to the gangs. There were a number of young men on the streets with gang tattoos on their face and neck, and dressed in stereotypical gang attire. I started sweating and figuring out a plan of action in case he stopped and picked up some of these unsavory looking characters.
The driver slowed the taxi and began circling the street we had just driven through. He would sneak glances at me and look away when I turned to look at him. He keep looking in the rear view mirror and over his shoulder. I was sure he was setting me up for a robbery or mugging. I reached into my messenger bag and grabbed the pepper “bear” spray and stuck it in my pocket. Not sure what I would do. Fight or flight are my only two options. If I flee, I’m leaving behind my backpack, but taking my messenger bag with my passport, credit cards, and cash. I chuckled that initially I was worried that I was being overcharged, now I’m thinking that’s the least of my concerns. He finally admitted that the bus station is in the outskirts of the city and he usually doesn’t come out that way, and he’s lost. He decides to backtrack, gets back on the freeway, and we immediately get stuck in a horrendous traffic jam. As we slowing inch along he recognizes the turnoff, “It’s named after a US president, John F. Kennedy.”
We take the turnoff. He pulls over and asks some city workers cleaning streets how to get to the bus terminal. They knew exactly what he’s asking and gave clear directions. About ten minutes later, we finally end the forty-five minute taxi ride and we arrive at the bus terminal. I’m relieved and gladly pay the inflated fare. He apologizes for getting us lost. I did not give him a tip.
I felt uncomfortable the whole time in Tegucigalpa, with crowds of people on the streets, angry looking gang bangers, constant traffic jams, and not knowing my way around. On the trip into the city a loud, obnoxious woman on the bus was going on about the problems with violence being committed by juveniles in the capital. She spoke nonstop explicitly about unsolved savage murders, violent robberies, and brutal assaults. This woman from Tegucigalpa convinced me that one time through her city was enough. This metropolis scares me. At the bus terminal I bought a ticket for Danli, located 20 miles from the border. I’m going to Nicaragua.
Danli a delight
I stopped in Danli, Honduras to prepare to enter Nicaragua. It’s a busy city involved in production of sugar, coffee, and tobacco for cigars. There were a fair amount of people on the streets shopping, going or coming from work, children in uniforms finishing school and going home. I walked around the city and saw no other foreigners. Apparently I was the only one in town.
Central park of Danli
People mingling and enjoying their fine city
Typical street in the commercial district of Danli
The people are unpretentious, friendly, and helpful to visitors. The highlight of my brief stay was an excellent chicken fajita dinner at the “Rancho Mexicano” restaurant. The chicken was succulent, juicy and spicy. It was cooked with plenty of onions, garlic, and fresh bell peppers. They served it with three different salsas -- hot, hotter, hottest. I ate the first two, tasted the third and blocked. It was burning hot and made my eyes water and nose run. After dinner, I stopped at a bakery to satisfy an urge for something sweet. I devoured a piece of strawberry cream pie. It was sweet, rich, and delicious.
Chicken fajitas that rival those served in Mexico and California
Strawberry cream pie that satisfied the "urge"
I walked to the hotel in the dark with a flashlight. I felt safe and people I passed on the street wished me a “good evening”. The next morning I wandered over to the bus terminal to check on the schedule for buses going to the border. A friendly, kind fellow told me about a “special” minibus that stops almost in front of my hotel at 7:30 AM, to take workers to Nicaragua. It’s end destination is the Honduran immigration office on the border. This information saved me a trip to the bus terminal in the morning and having to arrange at the border a ride to the immigration office.
Bus terminal in Danli
Robust fruit stand at the bus terminal.
Those are apples from Washington State, USA
The main transportation modes I use: chicken buses, minivan, taxi
I took some photos of a woman street food vendor preparing and selling baleadas, a floor tortilla filled with beans, meat, and cheese - very similar to a quesedilla, except deep-fried. She quickly made another one, fried it, and gave it to me for “free”. She said she wanted to introduce a visitor to a local food. In violation of my “no more street food” rule, I ate it and it was tasty. I figured the deep-fry process would have killed any contaminants. I did not get sick.
Woman street food vendor preparing a baleada
She kindly made one and gave it to me for "free"
I enjoyed my last stop and day in Honduras. I had entered the country in a turbulent way with a snafu at the border that caused me consternation. I’m leaving pleased with the people, the country, the food, and a sense that Honduras is struggling with implementing democracy. This ideal of democracy is very messy. When everyone has a voice there’s bound to be conflict and disagreement. How these disputes are resolved will determine the future of Honduras. The United States fought a civil war in settling its contested values and ideals. My hope is that Honduras learns from the US experience and turns to peaceful, nonviolent means to implement inclusion and representation of all sectors of society. Our next destination, Nicaragua, is also struggling with putting democracy into practice.
Man selling beans for 50 cents a pound
River flowing through Danli
Red and Black everywhere
The first thing that stands out about Nicaragua is you see the ruling party Sandinista colors of red and black everywhere. When I stopped at Nicaragua immigration at the border to get my entry visa, there was a picture of Sandino draped in red and black. Augusto Sandino is the revolutionary national hero who opposed and fought against US intervention, invasion, and occupation in the early 20th century. The revolutionary group of the late 1970s is named after him. He is the symbolic leader of the Sandinistas that ousted the dictator Anastasio Somoza. Sandino was assassinated in 1934 by the US trained and equipped National Guard of Somoza.
Sandinista black and red colors and slogans are everywhere
Augusto Sandino namesake and symbol of the Sandinistas
At the border I caught a chicken bus to Esteli, Nicaragua. It’s located in the northern mountain region of the country. Esteli has developed an international reputation for producing organic, shade grown gourmet coffee, and the “best Cuban” cigars in the world. We traveled through a narrow river valley with mature banana trees on both sides of the highway, a sprinkling of corn fields, and mountain tops covered with dense pine forest. The air was filled with the sweet smell of bananas. I could taste the fruit.
Nicaragua countryside on the way to Esteli
Tasting the gourmet coffee, with a piece of caramel flan;
both were worthy of being world-class
Since I boarded the bus at the beginning of its route, I had a seat. These buses stop frequently along the highway to pickup passengers. Ten minutes into the five hour ride, a rather large wide woman got on the bus and sat next to me. Driving through the mountainous terrain the bus made repeated turns and the woman’s fleshy body spilled into me. It was a hot, bouncy ride with me having to support her girth. She turned out to be a very pleasant person and talkative. She apologized for invading my space, but she really couldn’t help it. Her flab had it’s own momentum and unable to defy the laws of gravity and centrifugal force. Her profession was teaching grade school which she enjoyed. She warned me about pickpockets and thieves on the buses in Managua, the capital of Nicaragua.
Salesman on the bus selling "wonder" drugs to improve heath, love life,
and anything else that ails the body, soul, or mind
Nicaraguans on the chicken bus to Esteli
We talked about changes that have occurred in Nicaragua since my visit twenty-two years ago. The teacher said, “Things have improved a great deal since then. There’s been projects that have given cows, chickens, small parcels of land to allow people to start a business. Schools are free and mandatory until the age of sixteen. We also now have free medical care. Little by little Nicaragua is advancing. I think our current president, Daniel Ortega, is doing some good things.” She was in her early forties, gave a positive assessment and seemed to support Ortega, his Sandinista party and their policies. The teacher disembarked the bus in Ocotal. By the time we arrived in Esteli people were standing in the aisles of the overcrowded bus.
There currently is a presidential election taking place in Nicaragua. President Ortega is running for reelection. There are constant TV commercials showing him handing out free bags of beans and corn to poor people, children in uniforms attending newly built schools, and doctors with modern instruments skillfully examining patients. Ortega fades in saying, “We’ve improved the country a great deal, but there’s still work to be done.” The ad ends with crowds of people clapping and cheering as Ortega smiles and raises his arms in a pope like thank you motion.
Daniel Ortega campaign poster, it reads:
"With everyone, and for the benefit of everyone"
Ortega's wife on the left, Archbishop of Managua on the right
When I was in Nicaragua in 1989 during the Contra War (US sponsored counter revolutionary army raging war with the objective of overthrowing the left leaning Sandinistas) there was extreme poverty, nothing in the stores for people to buy and eat, no cars or buses on the roads. I saw overfilled large dump trucks transporting people. On the highway from Granada to Managua, a distance of 50 miles, there were people walking and carrying loads from one place to the other. Gas, beans, corn, milk were being rationed. The majority of people could not find meat to eat. The president then, twenty-two years ago, was Daniel Ortega. He is again president and wants to remain. He’s still using the revolutionary rhetoric of the 1979 revolution. Ortega is not the same man. In 1989 he was a revolutionary Marxist. Today he’s running as a born again “Christian” millionaire businessman. What has changed? Are the changes as favorable and encouraging as described by the school teacher?
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