Hot Ticket to Honduras

When I’ve decided on my next third world adventure, the first place I go is to Lonely Planet’s Web site. Their Web site gives me the basic rundown that I need—the background of the country, how to get there, the economy, and its politics; but what it also gives me, which I could seriously do without, is a straight shot of fear.

When I click on the Central American map on their website and then choose Honduras, I drag my mouse over to the Tips from Travelers section of the site. Here is where every scary event that has ever happened to any backpacker over the last six years is posted and it spans the length of the page. Since I like to be an informed traveler, I usually read each episode to see if it will affect where I may be, but then I spend the rest of my time with a thin veil of anxiety infiltrating my consciousness while I pack. I admit this to no one, sometimes not even myself, and then I wait until I arrive at my destination to see how I feel—reality being that it’s only once I land in a place that my anxiety will subside.

This is how it went in San Pedro Sula, the city we flew into that travelers said to avoid. We bought our tickets on Kayak.com just a week before for a reasonable last-minute price, and when we finally landed after a day-long layover in Houston, it was eleven at night, we had nowhere to stay, and my travel mate’s backpack had been lost. There were no taxis and we learned through speaking present tense Spanish with the polizia that we might have to sleep in the airport. I hadn’t taken into account that the city was celebrating a festival and that there would be no vacancies. Luckily, we both meditate regularly, so in moments like these when we have no idea what’s around the corner, focusing on our breath tends to come in handy.

After getting the gist of our situation, a taxi finally arrived with a Honduran woman who worked for Chiquita (the banana company) sitting in the front seat.