Hammocks, E-Coli, and Liquados #2: Que La Vaye Bien… – Copan Ruinas, Honduras

By: Kelli Sullivan

2: Que La Vaye Bien…
A group trip was planned for Las Ruinas de Copan at six o’clock the morning after I arrived. The pet rooster and bed bugs made me aware of every half hour after three o’clock. They won and my anxiety made up for the lack of sleep. I packed a bag, brushed my hair into a ponytail and climbed into the van at five o’clock. Street vendors were already selling coconut water hanging in bags off of long wooden sticks.

I made my way into the station and introduced myself to the group leaders who I had yet to meet, given that I was in-country two weeks after hearing of the micro credit program. I found the street corner and watched the world go by the hour before the bus was due. I took interest in the isolated gringo with shaggy hair and a Red Cross hat. I imagined him to be a Peace Corps volunteer and fell in love with the idea. He ended up just being another volunteer and becoming my good friend and travel partner – Juice…he will be a part of these stories.

The adventure began. Outside Tegus was a tropical paradise. Banana trees and cascades seeping out of the green mountainsides taunted any self-control to not throw out my arms and sing. Fatigue kicked in and I made myself fall asleep, bruising my brain against the vibrating windows. I popped a pill for nausea and could only anticipate a worthwhile trip in eight to nine hours.

Copan is the enchanted village with cobblestone streets and adobe buildings with tile roofs. It was a valley inhabited by the Maya for thousands of years and has become a prominent tourist attraction. The minute I stepped off the bus, every cell of my body was replaced, suffused with ecstasy. Several boys immediately approached us, bargaining hotel prices and selling horse back tours. Their cheap offers were enticing and the group ended up staying in their parent’s hotel – 4 days, 3 nights, $6 each. Toilets without toilet paper (of course), cold water showers and sheets included…excellent!

Ready for the good stuff…(you can read about Copan Ruinas in any tour book…ask for Tony as a tour guide by the way: he speaks five languages and claims to be able to somewhat communicate in 100) Juice and I headed out for liquados – a milk shake if you will – and ended up crossing the river to set out for the peak of some mountain we could see from the other side of the city. Four and a half hours later…after passing hundreds of cows, climbing to the top, down the back, and over two other peaks – probably 15 miles – we were LOST. Jungle is jungle and the river had no tell-tale signs of north or south. We honestly thought we had crossed over into Guatemala. We finally found a dirt road and followed it to a home. The door was open, there was a baby crying inside – but even after clapping our hands, yelling “buenas” for five minutes, nobody came out to help us. Suddenly they let their dogs loose and I started praying for the forgiveness of my sins. Having lived in Argentina, Justin knew that the dogs hated rocks and we were saved by the mere action of bending over to find some.

The road took us home. Dogs hate rocks, hike with your passport, and work up an appetite because you need to eat at Vamos a Ver.

Vamos a Ver is the Central American haven: covered patio with hanging stars, hammocks, fresh, frozen lemonades and homemade bread. The portable toilet is decorated with broken mirrors and Christmas lights. It’s owned by a friendly English-speaking Dutch couple and offers an ambiance allowing for any traveler to search one’s soul.

On our way back to the hotel, the lights in the entire city went out. Pitch black…felt like Hell. My first thought was…perfect time to be robbed – of what, Kell? My quicksilver flip flops and velcro watch? I, not quite used to this whole lifestyle yet, just grabbed a hand and walked up the hill until a car shined his headlights for us. Are you in love with these people yet?

We left at 7:00 the next morning for Las Sapos – a place infested with frogs, a sign of fertility, where Mayan women were believed to have come to give birth. We stopped at a family villa for breakfast owned by a Honduran woman who raised her family in Kentucky for 30 years. Breakfast was fabulous…fresh juice, tortillas, huevos rancheros, homemade cheese and beans. There are some casual hikes to the waterfalls and birthing sites…but if you go, make sure you stop in and say hello to my friend – I forget her name – and sign the guestbook. (Look for a May 27^th, 2000 entry from me…Kelli Sullivan)

We hitchhiked to Santa Rita…another waterfall. The hike was sweet – some of us did a little cliff jumping. If anything, cold water, tick-infested forests and once again…a true Honduran experience. Between that and doing a little laundry on the washboard, we met up with some travelers and headed over to the city disco (25 limpiras) to earn money for the city ambulance. Crazy – Latin dancing (if you could even call it that), monster bass and a city full of drunks.

I love Copan…I packed my wet clothes and left at 5:30 the next morning…but I didn’t say goodbye. I would be back…I did make it back on a random hitchhike going straight there from Tegus. Puchika! Cheque no?