Tegucigalpa

On Wednesday morning, I found myself seated in a Dunkin' Donuts. I checked my e-mail using their WiFi as I sipped on my coffee and listened to Jason Mraz's I'm Yours over the speakers. I was surrounded by students, nurses, and doctors dressed in sterile white. I could've been anywhere in the States, and for a few minutes I thought I was. Then I saw the armed guard wielding a shotgun at the front door and remembered I was in Tegucigalpa.

After too many hours on the-little-microbus-that-couldn't, we finally made it up the hills surrounding the Honduran capital. The countryside was filled with pine trees and green fields, a big change from Nicaragua. The landscape was sparsely populated until, suddenly, there were houses stacked on top of each other and taking root along the steep walls of the mountains. In the valley below, there was only Central American urbanization.

We stayed with a Couchsurfing host, Marlon, and it turned out to be a great experience. His apartment was small, but had tile flooring, paper lanterns, a well-stocked kitchen, a futon, and bookshelves crowded with political science essays, biology textbooks, and even English novels. He just finished his studies to be a dentist and he spoke English better than I speak it.

Tired and dizzy from the hours of travel, we decided to take a trip downtown with Marlon. He showed us around, pointing out churches, banks, the local burger joint of choice, and then took us to the Honduran People's History Museum. Downtown was nice. People filled the central park and the streets surrounding it, some going to work, some coming from, others going for coffee, some dressed well, some not so much, and some screaming the word of God into a microphone.

We went to Marlon's coffee shop of choice and sat around chatting. We talked about travel, Couchsurfing, politics in Honduras, politics abroad, his family in the States, and he told us how he loves the States but he could never trade the easy-going Latin American lifestyle for the 9-5 hustle.

That was Tuesday. After Dunkin' Donuts, we went to watch Honduras lose to Turkey in a World Cup exhibition match at a bar an earshot from the president's house. Later on, Julio, James, and I went to El Picacho to see the Giant Jesus and an unbeatable view of "Tegus." We got there and the Jesus was closed, but we still had time for a quick stroll through the nice garden and for a photoshoot of dumb poses - including stretch-armstrong Jesus - overlooking the city.

After standing on microbus, heads bowed and necks touching the ceiling, we made our way into the center for a cup of coffee and then caught a colectivo back to Marlon's. For dinner, we went to the mall food court where we ate a bucket of KFC and watched telenovelas on panel TVs. It was nicer than Woodbridge mall. Not Menlo, though. Afterwards, we walked around the block from Marlon's house and shot some pool, learning a new game from the business-casual guys next to us. We called it an early night.

The next morning, we bid farewell to Marlon as we headed west to the Copan Ruins. We had seen the capital through the eyes of a guy who is either middle class or upper-middle class, and life didn't seem any different than the one I've known. As we got to the bus station, we were immediately harassed by guys bumming cigs and booze money and vendors selling stools and newspapers. I liked the Honduras that I saw, but maybe because that Honduras was a lot like home.