Copan

Guatemala fun fact #3: There are over 20 Mayan languages still spoken in Guatemala...

But our last stop left us right over the border in the Hunduran town of Copan. Copan, not to be confused with the Guatemalan jungle town Coban or the popular beach spot Copaniquestravista, was our favorite city on the trip. The draw there is the Mayan ruins and they are known in particular for their killer stellae (see right photo). And, as was repeated numerous times in various books and displys, Tikal and Chichi(rodriguez)nista might have the bigger buildings, but Copan had the better artists.; Tikal was the New York to Copan's bohemian Paris. Take that Tikal! You want some! It also was very uncrowded, which might be damning praise, but made it very nice. Strolling and climbing through ruins is much cooler when there are very few people around. The town itself was great as well, small and relaxed and beautiful.

But one kind of funny things happened to me. I would like to preface this story by saying that normally I have a great sense of direction while traveling. One reason Marsha and I travel well together is that we have a very clear division of labor. I am in charge of money, directions, and opening unlocked doors. Marsha is in charge of communication. We're still in conflict over who should be master of the camera, as we are kind of lazy picture takers with strong artistic sensibilities ("That picture would be totally enhanced if taken on a diagonal, Marsha. Isn't it obvious!"). Anyway, on our first night's dinner, Marsha was still recovering from Pizza Utz (which means Pizza Parasite in Mayan) and left dinner early. I finished up about an hour later, picked up our laundry, and started to walk home.

Now I don 't what it is that confounded me so about Copan. I mean, granted it had no street signs and various curving dirt roads, but the town was tiny and I was only 5 minutes from home. So, I guess what happened was that I thought I missed my dirt turn off and then tried to compensate by taking a later dirt turn-off and back tracking and ended up totally lost. After floundering around a bit, I decided to head back to town and start over. It was, comically, exactly at the this moment when the power in the entire town went out and I could literally not see 2 feet in front of me. The Copanians themselves were fully unfazed, and I could see off in the distance various people flicking on flashlights. For me movement was much trickier. I either waited for a car to drive by, and then ran in the wake of its lights for a little while or waited for the lightning. The lightning proved much more consistent than the cars, but also reminded me that in all likelihood it would be raining on my lost laundry carrying ass any minute. I began calling out to random people for help, but I didn't exactly remember the name of the hotel, maybe Cafe something or other, and kept on being directed in the only direction I knew was wrong. Alas, my guardian angel finally decided to show up, a local carrying a candle who answered my question of, "I need help finding my hotel," with, "Oh, La Case Del Cafe?" She pointed me in the right way and I made it home.

On different note, one thing that was nice about Honduras was the safety. On our first night we ran through the normal batter of safety questions we had and instead of answers like, "You can go that way, but I'd leave my valuables at home," or, "There hasn't been an attack there in 4 months," the hotel manager just kept repeating that we had nothing to worry about. So as I wandered through mud puddles on my way home I at least didn't have to worry about having my laundry being jacked.

And then we came home...