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A craving for adventure. A craving for Latin America. A craving for baleadas…

My cravings led to yet another day spent bouncing around airports. St. Louis to Atlanta. From Atlanta to Ft. Lauderdale. Finally, Ft. Lauderdale to San Pedro Sula, Honduras. It’s my third trip back to Central America in six months and two of those six months I spent within the region. Exactly what I had suspected long ago has come to fruition. I’ve always known that once I had traveled to Latin America I would find it hard to stay away. I yearn to see the world. I’m enthralled with exploring new places, but I can’t escape that constant pull I feel is rooted in Latin America. It’s never been home, but I always feel like I’m coming “home” when I return to the region’s raw culture.

It was after midnight when my plane finally landed in SPS. On the last leg of my trip I had met a Spaniard whose excitement for arriving matched my own. Ironic that it was a Spaniard since I had just recently spent two months in Barcelona. For Alfredo, Honduras is brand spanking new territory to discover. During our layover in Ft. Lauderdale, I eagerly filled him in on the treasures of Honduras that he shouldn’t miss. He would be meeting his two Colombian friends who were traveling in Honduras and were Couchsurfing in SPS. “Who are you staying with?!,” I prodded. “I’m sure I know who’s hosting you! In fact, I bet you’ll spend the evening at Klein Bohemia.”

Despite the late hour, two of my friends, Carlos and Oscar, were waiting to pick me up. My excitement spiked when I saw them. I was really back! Carlos, if you recall, I met thanks to Couchsurfing during my second visit to Honduras. He’s the one who introduced me to Michael and he was my anchor through the storm of pain I felt after breaking up with Michael. He’s also the master of the bongos for Montuca Sound System. Oscar was a familiar face from both Klein and Couchsurfing. They were both tired from a long day at work, but were laughing at my childlike glee for being back. It was while I was squeezing Carlos and Oscar like teddy bears when Alfredo popped over to say he found his friends and CS host and, yes, he would be seeing me at Klein that night. I knew it!!

It turns out, Mako, the owner of Klein, was hosting Alfredo and his two Colombian friends Daniela and Jose. Hahaha… of course Mako was a great friend of mine! That night it felt like I had never left. The euro-chic of Klein. The Latin reggae music. Hot, sweaty dancing until the wee hours of the morning. All the familiar faces and now three new ones. I spent that night at Tamarindo hostel because I didn’t want to be presumptuous about having a place to crash. But Mako insisted I should consider his place as my own for the rest of my stay in SPS… and for any future stays in SPS for that matter. Mako proved to be a great host for all of us. He invited us to eat at his family’s roadside restaurant for lunch the next day. The others delighted in the restaurant’s infamous sopa de carocol. I’m not big on conches or conch soup, so I went for the pollo (chicken). Honestly, it’s the best I’ve had of the typical Honduran dish. Mako then dropped us off at the Guamalito market so Daniela and Jose could pick up souvenirs. But, just as Mako had driven off we discovered that the market was closed! No worries. I knew the area. It was my neighborhood… when I spent two months living in SPS. Cafeteo, my favorite coffee spot in town, was a short enough walk away. We spent all evening there laughing and marveling at how we were in Honduras. Super Baleadas was just across the way and Alfredo, Daniela and Jose finally got to try the Honduran style burritos that I had been raving about. Baleadas are quite simple but I can’t get enough of them. The traditional baleada is flat corn tortilla smothered in refried beans and topped off with pungent, white cheese and mantequilla (a sweet butter cream). You can add an assortment of other ingredients including chicken, pork, chorizo (sausage), ground beef and more. I always order mine with eggs and avocado.

That night we helped Mako set up for the band from Tegucigalpa (the capital of Honduras). They would be the evenings rather talented entertainment. Latin style jazz and rock… and more dancing until you were thoroughly drenched in sweat… nobody caring, each one as sweaty as the next. QUE RICO!!

On Sunday we returned to Mercado de Guamalito, this time before it closed. At the market we all munched on a block Central America’s infamous cheese – with it’s rich pungency – wrapped in tortillas that were made by hand right before us. The three newbies discovered horchata – the cold, cinnamon-flavored milk drink. It’s a local favorite. I was surprised to discover that horchata doesn’t exist in South America. But the drink was a new treat for the Colombians.

After the horchata we all wandered out from the market and across the street into another souvenir shop, Casa del Sol. Mako and I wound up talking business with the owner. There could be a few avenues of potential there. For now that’s all I’ll say… keep your fingers crossed! I might also have some leads with the Mako. He owns his own promotion business and needs photographers from time to time. Hopefully that will go somewhere too!

After Guamalito, we began wandering the streets in the direction of el centro (SPS’s city center.) Along the way we stumbled upon young grade school bands marching from various directions, filling the streets with brass and percussion. As we all fell in line, marching with the beat, Mako’s friends appeared in their pick-up and gave us a lift to the city center. Next, the five of us wandered into el centro’s small, colonial church – the Catredal de San Pedro Sula. It was my camera and probably the “gringo skin” of Alfredo and myself that attracted the administrator of the Church. He came over to invite us to take a tour to the top. Thus, that afternoon we got to indulge in an excellent view of the city center, the San Pedro Sula valley and the mountains that finish off the postcard perfect vista. You can’t escape the mountains in Honduras. They’re everywhere. From rolling foothills to small, tropical peaks surrounded in cloud forests. QUE RICO!!

That night I finally got to see Walter, another friend whose care and compassion was invaluable during my break up with Michael the last time around. Walter caught up with all of us while we “Couchsurfers” treated Mako and his family to a Chinese dinner. We all went back to Klein to chill for a bit before Walter took off. His visit was much too short. Especially since he has plans to take off for Europe.

Later in the evening, Mako read our palms and decorated Daniela and I in his own original henna – both skills he learned while traveling in Morroco. The “palm-reading,” sincere or no, did spark a deeper level of conversation – each of us participating, and each of us growing closer. My right arm received many compliments while it was adorned in Mako’s henna. It was interesting interacting with people with such body art so boldly on display. I have one tattoo but it’s on my ankle and most never even notice it. Art that crawls up your forearm is a bit more difficult for others to miss. I’m happy to report that while eyes were quickly drawn to the henna, the tattoo didn’t seem to affect how people greeted me or welcomed me. Perhaps people accepted it because it was obviously henna and, thus, obviously impermanent. Perhaps they accepted it because even with a tattoo sprawling across my forearm, I’m still a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Gringa tourist in Latin America. The artwork lasted about a week before it started fading. It was gone after two weeks.

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