beer run

Let's begin with a little clarification: This was a vino run.

Amanda and I decided we'd take a day trip to Santa Rosa de Copán today. It's basically the commercial capital of Western Honduras and everything you can't find in San Marcos is in the stores and markets up north.

After sleeping in and lolling about the house we made it out of town around 12.30 or so. As we approached the Dippsa (gas station), surprisingly, there was a bus leaving for Santa Rosa. (Normally you have to hitch out to the desvío for a bus.) It's crammed with market-goers and scorching outside today. Should we get on?

No. Let's jalón. Thumb out.

Ride to San Francisco del Valle. Thumb out. Ride to the desvío along the highway. I flag down a black SUV. It's Dr. Miguel. His daughters go the Green Valley School and they're going to Cucuyauga, half-way to Santa Rosa. Good enough.

Awkward car ride. Dr. Miguel who normally chatters constantly hardly says a word but rather listens to the Bee Gees. The girls stare blankly out the windows and act like they don't even know us nor respond to our questions and banter. Although tomorrow at school they'll be bragging about how they gave Mister Chris and Miss Amanda a ride yesterday.

Have you eaten lunch? No, but we had a late breakfast. Would you like to eat lunch with us? Okay.

Now we naturally assume: It is a Sunday afternoon. They're driving a half hour or so away to eat lunch. Probably have family in Cucuyagua and it'll be a nice meal with some Hondureños.

Right?

Wrong.

We stop at a gas station. But not to get gas. Maybe they own the station and the house is out back.

Wrong again.

It's just the Comedor Internacional where you find fried chicken, fried fish, and something that appears to be barbeque ham under hot lamps. Astonishingly uninternational.

Awkward lunch. No one wants to say anything. Isa, the most hyperactive second grader in the school, is eerily calm poking at her fried fish and ketchup splattered papas fritas. Come here often? Yes. Do you have family here in Cucuyagua? No. We just drove out here for lunch.

Thank you very much, we're on to Santa Rosa. No. I insist that I give you a ride back into the center of Cucuyagua.

Thumb out. It's worse hitching a ride here since lots of people are only going a few more minutes to their homes. Ah, look at the good graces bestowed upon us by the gods of El Salvador.

Where are you from? El Salvador. I know I saw the plates on your car. Bravo. The capital.

It's refreshing to have an educated conversation an always-amiable Salvadoreño. He doesn't normally pick up hitchhikers... well not locals anyways. We looked like Europeans or something. That was his excuse. He works in San Pedro Sula. Educating people. Creating a Central American Union. A business network, trade organizations. Working with the European Union to cultivate this. Talked politics, culture. Interesting guy.

Here we are in Santa Rosa. Cost = 0 Lempiras. Bonus = Free lunch?

Buy some household stuff at the BIG supermarket. Just about the same size and containing much of the same content found in American stores. Cross the street to the real market.

Disappointment. With the extra time we spent at almuerzo the show is pretty much over. Oh well. Walk up into town. Sundays are dead. We lazily walk about, sit in the plaza mayor, wander around the church. Back to the bus depot. Cross the street into the supermarket. Gonna buy some vino and some Argentine beer. We approach the checkout.

Fiasco. And not just the bottle. Two bottles of wine tapped together do not cost the price on the sticker. They cost their own individual prices but you can have this miniature bottle for free.

No thanks. I'll go grab a different bottle of wine.

Next ordeal: These bottles have a sign that says they're en oferta for 138 Limps. [Uncomprehending stare.] There's a sign back there that says this brand of wine is on sale. Can you bring me the sign? Sure. [Less understanding than before.] Another worker: No, a different bottle of wine of this brand is on sale. (This is specified nowhere). Okay, fine.

Make another trip back to the wine aisle to get the correct bottle of wine. Pay. Check receipt. (One of the first times I've ever had one in Honduras.) Put in backpack.

Cross street. Bus is leaving for San Marcos. Cost = 40 Limps. Pass. Thumb out.

Ride to Santa Teresa, the next town over. Thumb out.

Frenzied ride with ballistic driver and his gray mother in the back of his candy blue '87 pickup. Out in Cucuyagua. Bus we passed earlier is just pulling in. Cost = 20 Limps. Okay.

It's packed and I get the last seat in the very back of the bus next to a congenial Hondureño who's heading to Guatemala. Note: All of my friends have been telling me how impressed they are with my español progress, but I think they're just being nice. And Hondureños say the same but they're also being polite or trying to sell me something. But today I could see my progression as we talked continuously for an hour or more, mostly about la naturaleza--beautiful places to visit in Honduras and many of the crops raised (or no longer grown like sugar cane because it's not profitable enough) in Western Honduras as we flew by the fields--till we pulled up to the desvío outside San Marcos.

Adiós.

Yellow school bus arrives for the last leg into town. Cost = 15 Limps. A royal rip off for the transitory ride. I'll jalón next time.

¿Tiene hambre? We got some meat, veggies and tortillas from some girls across from the Dippsa.

I've never put so much effort into buying booze before. Should be delicious.