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Sunday, 30 June 2013

Moving to Honduras - Page 2

Written by Treva Wynn
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I thanked him for his concern and assured him I would be just fine. He walked away and joined a group of middle-aged people standing near the front doors. I tried Cat's phone again- nothing. Fifteen minutes passed and my new tall friend walked back into my corner of the cafe. "Ma'am, the lady working here said that she needs to close. You'll have to sit outside."

"Oh, okay." I unplug my barely charged phone and gather my things.

"Listen, I work with an orphanage nearby. Over there, (he points) that's my friend. She's a nun."

Seeing her cue, she walks over and shakes my hand. She didn't look like the nuns I'd seen on TV. She had long dreadlocks, baggy worn Tye-dyed clothes, and glasses that held on to the tip of her long nose.

"Listen, Hun. We don't feel comfortable just leaving you here. Do you even know Spanish?"

"Well... no, I don't."

I have a friend who owns a hotel outside of the city. We could take you there, and it would give you time to figure out what your plans are. By the looks of it, you don't have any."

"No, I'm sorry but I couldn't possibly impose like that. And I'm sure these girls will be here soon."

"How well do you know them? Are you willing to gamble your safety on it?"

After I thought about it, I realized I had just as much chance getting kidnapped and killed with the two girls I didn't know as with these strange missionaries.  

"Okay, great. Let's go."

As they loaded my bags into their tiny, paint-chipped minivan, I took one more glance around the airport parking lot. I could not believe I flew to Central America, got stood up, and am now leaving with some Catholics I had met 30 minutes prior.

Well, here we go. I sat quietly in the seat behind the driver and we took off. The deserted airport road turned into a traffic nightmare after two miles. We were in one of four lanes of traffic on a road designed for at most two. Mopeds and scooters somehow were flying in between the sardine-like cars, just barely missing side mirrors. Despite the chaos, I was thoroughly impressed. Our skilled driver weaved in and out of cars with relaxation and confidence, which were highly contagious. Once we were several miles away from what I assumed was downtown San Pedro Sula, my chauffeurs began the expected Honduras-brief. "Don't drink the water. Don't use it to brush your teeth. Don't wash your dishes with it. Don't even open your eyes in the shower!"

Yikes. I got it. No water.

(Which for the record, yes the water is polluted, but I use it for everything but drinking- and I'm still standing!) 

"Most importantly, don't go outside once the sun goes down. Ever."

"Yeah, of course. I'm not planning on putting myself at risk."

They frowned at one another. I could tell they were not impressed with my amount of good judgment thus far. I didn't blame them. There I was, accompanied by four complete strangers, flying towards a supposed hotel in a country whose language I didn't speak.

(Page 2 of 7)
Last modified on Monday, 01 July 2013

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