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The adventure began not two hours after I arrived in Copan Ruinas. I had already checked in at the hostel where I would be staying, Iguana Azul. I choose to bunk in a room with 5 beds because it was cheapest and I figured it would open up the opportunity to meet fellow travelers. As it turned out, I was too busy to ever know who was in my room! Before I get to that though, I just want to comment on how clean and inviting Iguana Azul was. It had community bathrooms and showers but they were always spic and span. The décor and furnishings were styled in fresh, local color with bright tiles and natural stones. It was just extremely cozy and welcoming and my shared quarters, with my own bed, cost me just over $5 a night! The best part was, the hostel was located on the fringe of the little town instead of right in the center like most others. I LOVED making the daily walks through the cobbled streets to get to the center of town… those walks never took more than ten minutes but I got to see so much of the local culture that way! Plus, the sweet night chirps of the geckos and crows of the roosters are back! I missed those sounds so much when I left SE Asia. I don’t know why Americans insist on being closed up in their houses all the time. Nature’s night sounds drifting on a cool breeze through your open window is the perfect lullaby.

Back to the adventure… I was wandering around those cobbled streets looking for a place to buy face wash when I met Billy. I had wandered into a pharmacy (more like a miniature local style Walgreens) and was trying to ask for face wash, but what little Spanish I knew was escaping me and I couldn’t remember the word for soap or face. That’s when Billy jumped in to help. It wasn’t until I saw he had a young local in tow with a cut finger that I started asking him questions. ‘A traveler who interacted with locals,’ I thought, That’s great!’ Hardly. Billy’s not a traveler, he’s a humanitarian! The next thing I knew, I had plans to join Billy the next day on his trip out to visit the nearby indigenous villages. I would be going out to witness and learn about some of the harshest realities that exist for people in impoverished countries and cultures. But, I would also be going out to witness just what WONDERS a bit of time and compassion can do to turn the lives of these impoverished people completely around.

Billy’s story is a great one. I’ve already devoted one post solely to his work and more are to come. So for now, I will skip ahead. My adventures with the Chorti Maya deserve their own stories.

The next day in Copan, while I was diligently working on figuring out SOME way to convey everything I experienced with Billy, I met another quite interesting character. Out of privacy, his name will remain anonymous. But, he’s an ex-convict who spent 13 of his 40-year prison sentence actually in federal prison. He got out early on parole. Why doing so much time you ask? He was a “Davidian.” Do you remember that story? When the Feds raided a “cult” in Waco, Texas? I’ve included some links, but I’ll leave the exploration of the raid and what and who the Davidians are to your own research, for now. I don’t really know much about it myself. So anyway, the guy – we’ll call him Joe – was a participant and follower of the religious sect when the Feds invaded. There was a shootout. Joe said he wasn’t involved in that. But, he served time for aiding and abetting intent for homicide. Yeah, wow. That’s what I said. Ex-con, ex-cult member. Wow. “Joe” was quite the soft-spoken, unobtrusive, easy-going, laid-back guy though. You would never guess he was an ex-con. He certainly didn’t look or act the part. Very friendly and unthreatening. Turns out he has some remnants of “different ideas” on spirituality though. I couldn’t help but getting into it with him… already, I find that discussion come up with nearly everyone I meet. Here was someone who definitely had some ideas. Some strange ideas I will say. I mean, I’ve got some ideas that people might not quite get, but “Joe” certainly has ideas that I don’t get and definitely don’t agree with. Nonetheless, I was willing to hear him out. His ideas and thoughts are very interesting to say the least. I really don’t feel it’s my place to repeat them though because I don’t want my own aversion to what he said, confuse what he said or mis-communicate it. I will put this in writing though. “Joe” says some big miracles are going to start happening in October. He will be involved in the miracles and that’s when he will start proclaiming his message. He says it will be all over the news. Hmmmmm… I mean, I wasn’t sold. Not, in the least bit. But we don’t have to wait long to find out do we? ; )

So yeah, that whole encounter was… interesting.

I also met a young Kiwi (you know, New Zealander). This is his second time in Honduras. Robert first came and spent about I six months here, I think it was, learning Spanish. While here though, he got involved with a local orphanage. And, that’s why he’s back now. He came back to offer more help. Unfortunately, he conveyed that there are some disappointing realities about the particular orphanage he volunteers at. He didn’t want to share too much, so I won’t either. Let’s just say there’s abuse of donations and kids going on. Not good. The good news is though, since Robert has been involved with the orphanage, more local groups have gotten involved with helping including a school and a church. What a great impact Robert is having!

My final night in Copan I spent at a bar with the quite interesting “Joe.” The best part was we were the only gringos there. It was a local joint… just how I like it! Apparently the local joint for the wealthy, educated Hondurans though. They all spoke English. One spoke five languages. Most of the night they left us alone other than the frequent wink in my direction…haha. But, when music got going I couldn’t help but get up and dance. The guy that spoke five languages took that op to dance with me. Fun! Then I sat back down with the locals and chatted with them. “Joe” lost interest at that point and suddenly decided to leave and just took off. Not quite the miracle worker eh? ; ) So, there I was… a young woman… alone with a handful of locals… late at night. I will admit. That’s something that’s cautioned against here. But, these were educated locals. That’s not to say they didn’t try to get me to go with them in their cars. Pa! My hostel was a short walk away and I declined with a hearty ‘muchas gracias pero no gracias.” That didn’t deter their invites too much though. The young bartender actually came to my aid. He had been flirting with me all night and he called me over to him. So I went over to stick by him… and THAT literally pissed off one of the guys and he asked me, “You like that dark-skin bleep more than me? I have light skin. He’s dark!” That line was the whole point of telling this story. I couldn’t believe it. I mean, I can now that I think about it. But, I just didn’t know they had such a prejudice here for all of that too. The one guy was olive-skinned like all are here, but he was much paler than the bartender. The bartender did have beautiful, dark skin. I told the other guy as much and heartily professed my taste for dark brown skin. Ha! Guapo dark-skinned boy gets the girl! Not the jack ass “educated” lighter-skinned guy. Well, the bartender didn’t really get the girl in this case. The others finally left because the bar was closing. I looked at the bartender bewildered and the bartender told me not to worry, they are his friends. Hmph. Some friends. Then he kindly bid me goodnight and I was on my way… I made it back to my hostel, safe, sound and alone! ; )

The next day was the day for me to finally pull myself away from Copán’s sweet charm. I bought a bus ticket to depart for La Ceiba, a city on the north coast, that afternoon. The plan was to go visit the Copán ruins and then head out of town. For some reason, though, I was not meant to visit the ruins. I walked the kilometer out of town to the ruins, bought my ticket, and walked on to the gate only to find I had lost my ticket. It was only $15 bucks so it wouldn’t have been a problem to just buy another one, but by then I didn’t have enough time. It takes at least two hours to explore the ruins. I had spent to much time bewildered and wandering around looking for my ticket by the time I decided to buy a new one. But, there was a nature trail on-site that wound through the surrounding jungle. I opted to just take that. It would have been a treat I would have had to skip (due to time) had I visited the ruins… so it all worked out. A sign at the start of trail told ventures to explore with an open mind, urging us to see the wild jungle the way the Mayans saw it 1,500 years ago. I liked that challenge. The jungle was alive with sounds never found in North America. I could hear the calls of dozens of exotic birds, some crying in the distance, others squawking directly overhead. Wild parrots of brilliant colors flew and roosted in the canopy above, cracking open seeds of some sort and sending shells tumbling and crashing through branches below. Tapirs darted in out of my path. Butterflies with stunning artistry and colors flitted all around. When Mayans died, it was believed their spirits lived on as butterflies. And I did feel like the Mayan spirit was all around me. In one of the books I’ve been reading lately, I can’t remember which, it commented on how modern culture constantly urges us to fear nature, the woods, the jungle, the wild. But, it says when you actually venture out into the complete wildness of nature, you find you aren’t so afraid… you feel more at home than in any modern house. That’s exactly how I felt. I was on the fringe of the wild and a deep sense of peace grew stronger and stronger with every step I ventured further into the jungle.

Just as I was feeling the bliss of being alone in the wild bubbling over though, three young men in fatigues appeared on the trail before me. It’s common to spot young, armed soldiers in Honduras. In fact, I recognized one of them. I had taken his picture while he was patrolling the government office in town. A greeting of recognition as I passed was enough to prompt him to leave the two others and turn around to walk with me. Alone time was over, but, it was nice to have the company. He spoke no English so we had to rely on what very little Spanish I knew. That’s so fun though! I love trying to communicate in a language I don’t know to well. It’s fun to learn. It’s like a puzzle. And the patience both must possess develops an easy comradeship. In fact, my little soldier friend soon felt comfortable enough to throw his arm around my shoulders and hold me with the other as we walked. A couple times he even busted out his phone to play American songs… ‘Turn around, bright eyes…’ I couldn’t help but start laughing. Along the way there were even some Mayan ruins. So, I did get to see some ruins after all! It wasn’t too long before we reached the end of the trail. I had to head to the bus station for my bus to La Ceiba. Soldier boy had to go meet back up with his comrades. He gave me the typical, sweet Hondureña ‘goodbye,’ a small kiss on the cheek. His random, unobtrusive company left a reassuring smile on my lips. So many are convinced that the world is so big and bad, but it’s just not so. A woman really can walk with an armed soldier, a complete stranger, alone in the woods without fear. Yes, I know trouble exists. But it really is the exception, not the rule. My multitude of experiences urge me to believe that people from all cultures and societies are inherently good. Trouble is the rare exception. And I just don’t seem to find it.

I’m sure many of you will be convinced that I’m just naive. But, I’ve been all around this world. Naivety comes from a lack of experience and I certainly don’t have that. Don’t be reckless, be aware, but, be open to the fact that good people can cross your path at every turn… instead of insisting upon the opposite. What you focus on in life is what you invite into your life. So I challenge you to focus on the good… and see what happens!

A little audio of the jungle sounds and meeting the Hondureño soldier:

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