Honduras 🇭🇳

Our shortest stop ever

Honudar wasn't really on our plan before, but in El Salvador we decided that we wanted to spend two nights on the Pacific coast in a small fishing village. Even this plan was further minimized.

In Honduras, El Amatillo, we immediately felt uncomfortable. It's amazing how just a few meters away, after the border of El Salvador, people can change so much. In El Salvador, we still had the super friendly locals who always smiled at you, but in Honduras, locals tried to scam you together with the military. To enter, you have to fill out a form, and here the locals tried to lure us into a back room of a restaurant and wanted 6 USD for it. Right next door was the official office where you could do this for free. When I asked a military officer, he supported the scammers and told me to go with them. But since this felt wrong and suspicious, I just walked into the official office and got the correct information there. This feeling persisted, so we said that if the opportunity arises, we don't even want to spend a night here. We made our way 3 kilometers with all our belongings to the largest highway, the Pan-American Highway. Here, as often, we were extremely lucky and a massive truck stopped and said he could take us all the way to Costa Rica. Milena, Tino, me, and all our luggage, including the surfboards, had room in his driver's cabin. We drove for two hours chatting with him through Honduras. We asked him to drop us off in Choluteca because he was following the Pan-American Highway to Nicaragua and we wanted to go to the Pacific coast to the wave 'The Boom'. We spent one night here in a kind of motel. We arrived super hungry and exhausted and we were all in this unbalanced childish mood, something between creepy, weird, and sleep deprived. We walked over to the nearest Wendy's and got fast food and ice cream. When we arrived back at the motel with the ice cream, we were lucky enough to see a drone show from the neighboring property before going to bed. The next morning, we continued by hitchhiking. When we crossed the border control between Honduras and Nicaragua in Guasaule, our vaccination certificates were checked. The Germans, of course, had everything exemplary ready. Unfortunately, Milena didn't have any proof, so we were stuck in the dust for 3 hours. During this time, we got her proof and I was allowed to go to Nicaragua to print it out.

Finally, we arrived in Nicaragua!

Andres and the neighbor boy Rafa keep us on our toes. We spend our days playing games, playing soccer, snorkeling, fishing, and of course, attending daily lessons.

From the sea to the plate: The boys have already taught us how to use a PET bottle for fishing, catch and clean fish, and prepare them deliciously. In our neighbor's kitchen, we learned how to make Baleadas. These dough patties filled with beans, egg, cream cheese, meat, and avocado are a huge hit throughout Honduras.

As "Andres' new babysitters," we quickly became known, which is admittedly not difficult on a tiny island. Through the children and Anke's nature conservation projects, we have also made friends with the teachers, who are very interested in our journey. On Thanksgiving, we were invited to celebrate the holiday in one of the tiny churches with singing and food in the company of the island residents.

Diving Licenses

We have been thinking about getting diving licenses for a long time, and now the perfect opportunity has presented itself. Anke was very flexible when we told her about our plans. She not only supported us with the theory but also gave us the necessary days off so that we could go to the dive school in Utila for the dives.

Dana received basic training as an Open Water Diver, allowing her to dive with a buddy. In addition to the theory, she had to complete five training dives up to 18 meters deep. The focus was on the function and handling of the equipment, appropriate behavior in different situations, communication underwater, and the joy of new impressions.
Julian, who was already certified as an Open Water Diver, signed up for the Advanced Open Water Diver course. This course includes theoretical and practical specialization in five areas: deep diving, navigation, wreck diving, perfect buoyancy, and night diving.

The deep dive took us 30 meters below the surface. At this depth, only a small amount of light reaches the seafloor, robbing it of its vibrant colors and creating a world of dark blue and shades of gray. Without important safety stops, it would take over two minutes to ascend from this depth.

In the sea bottom in front of Utila, also at a depth of almost 30 meters, lies the four-story shipwreck of the Halliburton, a high-rise underwater. But the story of the cargo ship is not tragic: like many dive wrecks in the world, it was prepared and deliberately sunk—a mighty sight! Due to poor visibility, the gigantic ship was never completely visible, which made the dive even more exciting. We spiraled around the wreck, swam through the belly and the small bridge, past the ship's steering wheel.

However, the most fascinating dive was the night dive. Dana stayed on the boat to watch the action. As the sun sank into the sea, we prepared our equipment. After a short briefing, we rolled backward into the sea, letting the air out of our jackets. The already dark water engulfed us within seconds.

As we descend towards the Moon Holes, a round sand area surrounded by coral reefs, I can't help but think of the moon landing. We move weightlessly with delicate movements through the darkness. We don't know what surrounds us; only the beams of light from our flashlights slowly explore the darkness like curious fingers. You feel like you could bump into something at any moment. The senses are limited but sharp. The silence is only broken by the rushing air flowing through the regulator and the bubbles making their way to the water's surface.
Small fish dance in the flashlight beam, while a larger fish emerges from the darkness and goes after the illuminated prey. Other fish can be seen peacefully sleeping in their hiding places.
The eyes of the nocturnal crustaceans like shrimp, lobster, and crabs sparkle like tiny rubies in the flashlight beam, shining red. The seafloor seems to be lined with hundreds of these sparkling gems, somehow magical. Jellyfish float weightlessly in the darkness, with small flashes of light running through their bodies. We sit down carefully in the sand and turn off our flashlights. Our senses take a short moment to adapt to the total darkness, and it's time for an experiment: by moving our arms vigorously, we stimulate microscopic algae, causing them to glow in neon colors. Witnessing this unique, bioluminescence-produced underwater fireworks is only possible at night.

When we resurface after three-quarters of an hour, everything is quiet. The moon is shining, and the boat gently rocks in the waves. Dana comes to the side of the boat; she saw the beams of light from our flashlights shining from the depths. "And? How was it?" - "You have to experience it," is my first conclusion.

Although the seas make up two-thirds of the Earth's surface, the underwater world remains hidden from many people. Diving allows you to enter a fascinating world full of life and its own rules.
You embark on a safari where you may encounter large marine creatures with a bit of luck. However, you also quickly develop a fascination for small and tiny life forms like corals and their role in the ecosystem - there's so much to discover! Just when we thought we had seen everything on the same reef after three weeks, we encountered new species, colors, and shapes. It seems like you can escape gravity for the duration of the dive. You move weightlessly in all three dimensions, and suddenly, somersaults, spins, and hanging upside down become possible. It's almost as if you are flying.

Despite all the fun, we were also reminded time and again that the ocean is not our natural habitat, and as humans, we are particularly vulnerable and will always be inferior if it comes to that. We have learned how important it is to be aware of our role as guests and to respect the natural limitations imposed by the ocean.

After experiencing all these adventures, we proudly received our diving licenses. From now on, we can dive together as dive buddies anywhere in the world. The next day, we set out to explore the depths of the sea side by side.

More Plastic - Plastic Sea

If fans lie on the seafloor, plastic bags float through the water like jellyfish, and flip-flops drift by the snorkel mask, you don't have to be a marine biologist... to finish this sentence.

The advancing coral bleaching and the increasing pollution of the oceans cause significant damage both above and below the sea surface and reveal how fragile this paradise-like habitat is.
Since it became known that plastic not only destroys landscapes and habitats but has also infiltrated our food chains, it must be considered a global threat. Although the information about this sad reality is nothing new, experiencing it firsthand is different.

Honduras is not an isolated case; we have encountered the waste problem throughout Central America. Convenience and an "out of sight, out of mind" mentality often lead to trash being carelessly thrown into the landscape or the ocean. The island residents themselves are responsible for much of the trash floating at the seafloor and around the islands. In heavily affected coastal areas, we could be selective while collecting trash because, despite large bags, we couldn't take everything with us.

But there is hope; hope in the form of people like Anke, who are committed to protecting the oceans and the island residents' habitat. With the "environmental hero" project, the German woman is promoting a change in attitude. Children receive points for plastic bottles collected from the sea, which they can redeem for rewards. Every Saturday morning, the collected bottles are counted in the small island school and loaded onto a boat. Only after the work is done, do the teachers allow the highly coveted soccer ball to be played with. Similar projects to educate and raise awareness among the local population are also underway on Utila itself, with a particular focus on the younger generation growing up with a new awareness.

They are trying to find creative solutions for processing their own plastic waste. For example, the concrete used for the roads is mixed with recycled plastic. Thin packaging plastic is also cleaned and pressed into PET bottles until they become solid "plastic bricks," which are then used as building materials.

Naturally, these are only partial successes, and given that large amounts of waste enter the oceans every second, and new plastic is washed ashore with every wave, it is just a drop in the bucket. However, the island residents are successfully drawing attention to themselves, so even at the local political level, the ball has started rolling: since August 2019, the sale and purchase of styrofoam, straws, and plastic bags have been banned on Utila and the surrounding islands. This makes them one of the first regions in the world to implement such laws. Government officials from the mainland are also showing interest and viewing Utila as both a pilot project and a role model.

Coral Cleaning Specialist

To create some beautiful memories of our time together, Anke took the last day of our stay off. We were allowed to accompany her and Andres on a volunteer project that required scuba tanks and brought us back underwater: to counteract coral bleaching, a coral nursery was established on the seafloor in front of the resort where Anke works in Utila.
To ensure that these young coral pieces, attached to cords and metal grids, grow well, they need regular care.

Equipped with wire brushes and toothbrushes, we dove to clean coral after coral from algae. A few years ago, I saw a report about a similar project in Jamaica, but I never dreamed of experiencing it myself.
After 40 minutes, all the corals were cleaned, and there was still plenty of air left in the tanks. Anke showed us the reef in more detail.

After resurfacing, we were allowed to spend a few more hours at the luxurious resort before taking a boat to Water Cay.

There, between the palm trees on the white sand, we lit a small fire to grill the freshly caught tuna. The hammocks sway back and forth, and the gentle breeze rustles the palm leaves. Someone realizes in astonishment that it is the first Sunday of Advent. We grab our snorkel masks and let ourselves float, even the dog Suki joins us in the water - this is how it is to live as a Rottweiler in the Caribbean.

Before the last night on the Cays and saying goodbye to Andres and Anke, they take us night snorkeling after dark. Luminescent red sea snails, shrimps, squid, and a bright green moray eel - this night also presents a colorful theater in the light beams of our flashlights.

With heavy hearts, we pack our backpacks that night. Our time on the Utila Cays was unbelievable, there's no more ocean than this! Ultimately, all that's left to say is that the only bad thing about our time with Anke and Andres was that it came to an end after three weeks.

Back on the Road

The journey felt a bit like waking up from a three-week dream. The sky had been crying all day when our ferry reached the mainland in the last daylight. Do we still have all our valuables on us? How can we get from A to B safely and affordably? Where can we find something to eat? Where will we spend the night? - As we check into the dormitory of a run-down hostel in La Ceiba, the backpacker life catches up with us again.

Far from all the hustle and bustle, we enjoyed a carefree life with Anke and Andres, but now, back on the road, we had to be extremely vigilant and cautious again. You only realize how valuable the feeling of safety is when it's no longer there.

Getting from the Caribbean coast of Honduras to Nicaragua within one day using public transportation is considered an athletic feat even in the least crowded backpacker forums. However, to avoid ending up in one of the infamous cities such as San Pedro Sula or Tegucigalpa, we accepted a short night's rest and set off again at three o'clock in the morning. If everything went according to plan, we would spend the next night in Nicaragua.

See you on the other side of the border, until then!

Greetings

D&J

We had been looking forward to this for some time, and now the time had finally come: in mid-November we had the opportunity to spend several weeks with a family on the Bay Islands in Honduras. Today we look back on what may be the best stage of our journey.

This fortunate coincidence began several weeks before our departure in Germany, when we registered with WorkAway.

WorkAway is a network that provides free accommodation and meals in exchange for daily work. Travelers can stay for free in many places, but they are obliged to fulfill a previously agreed upon work schedule. Various offers stand out, especially positions with local families, schools, hostels, or eco-projects. In addition to the desired win-win situation, the focus is on cultural exchange.

This is how we came across the extremely interesting profile of Anke. She is German, but has been working as a diving instructor on the Honduran "Bay Islands" for many years. She lives on a tiny island off Utila with her ten year old son Andres. Since Anke spends exciting but also long workdays on and under the water, she is happy to host WorkAwayers who take care of Andres, the dog Suki, and the house.

Life on stilts

The Bay Islands are primarily made up of two tourist diving paradises, Utila and Roatan. A twenty-minute boat ride from Utila, in the southwest of the island, are the tiny Utila Cays. An island chain of eight dreamlike pearls.

Only two of these islands are properly inhabited. Right next to the narrow bridge connecting the two islands, Anke's colorful house seems to grow directly out of the sea. To expand living space on the island, numerous houses have been built on concrete foundations or stilts in the sea and can only be reached via a narrow wooden bridge. Landfill measures are also being taken to protect against erosion and rising sea levels. As a result, the two islands have gradually merged more and more. The island structure is still so small that without the development, you would have a 360° ocean view.

But the Utila Cays are not the home of wealthy foreigners, the local population is a mixture of Hondurans from the mainland and Creole-speaking islanders. Not far away and yet away from tourism, most families are involved in fishing and live in simple conditions. As guests in the living room of our neighbors, we were somewhat surprised to see the sea shimmering between the floorboards. Here people literally live on the water.

And yet the island idyll offers everything a simple life desires: the two small grocery stores are supplied with fresh fruits and vegetables twice a week. In the 'island school', a handful of teachers accompany the children from primary school to adulthood. If his boat doesn't have a motor failure, Captain Donald drives to Utila and back once a day.

Everything is within walking distance within two minutes. No cars and scooters, not even bicycles, but almost every house has a boat dock built on stilts. The children here learn to boat at the age of eight, of course without a corresponding license. But 'practice makes perfect' applies not only to boating: fishing hooks, fishing line, and bait are available everywhere on the island, so the boys start early with their self-made fishing rods to hunt for the big catch. It is amazing with what naturalness the children move skillfully in the sea - the sailors of tomorrow.

The island residents' biorhythm is based on the sun. The village awakens at dawn, even before the sun rises. Freshwater and electricity are sought-after resources. Rainwater is collected in cisterns, and especially during the dry season, every drop of freshwater is precious. Electricity is only available via prepaid, and there are almost daily power outages. Without electricity, the pump at the cistern also stops working, so the whole island had to do without electricity and running water for 24 hours - an exciting experience for us.

Apart from what tourists are sold as "Caribbean island life" on the neighboring islands Utila and Roatan, we got to know the real life on stilts here.

Casa Colorada

Anke's house is well known beyond the island because it lives up to its name 'Casa Colorada'. The two-story wooden house is painted in bright colors, making it the most beautiful and certainly most noticeable house on the island.

We were also amazed when Andres and Anke presented the house to us: cozy furnishings, a bedroom with a private bathroom, balcony, and sea view!

Certainly the most beautiful and comfortable piece of home on our entire journey. After all the short stays in dormitories, it was a real pleasure to unpack the backpack completely and enjoy the feeling of having arrived in one place. Somewhat ironically, despite the work, the next three weeks should feel like a vacation from the daily routine of traveling.
But the best is yet to come: since the islands are of coral origin, there is a coral reef - a coral garden - directly behind the house, practically in the garden. All in all, a true dream!

From the beginning, Anke and Andres welcomed us warmly. Many years ago, Anke started looking for happiness outside of Germany, made diving her profession, and ultimately built a life here. But she also sees her profession as a calling and tries to establish environmental measures to protect the oceans in cooperation with the island school.

Andres is half German, half Honduran, and is growing up trilingual because of his environment. For his ten years, he is very clever and at the same time extremely energetic.

Our daily tasks include taking care of Andres, giving him German and English lessons, shopping, cooking, doing other household chores, and enforcing rules in Anke's absence. Especially the last one, the trial course 'being parents', proves to be an interesting experience and occasionally costs us a nerve or two.

The dream of the coral garden

Exploring the virtuoso underwater world was by far our favorite activity. On friendly days, the light broken on the water's surface danced over the corals and light beige sand, making the entire reef shine in colorful colors. Sea anemones, parrotfish, snapper, barracuda, lobster, stingrays... a colorful hustle and bustle of various species. Between the corals, large glass fish eggs, poisonous companions, and disguised hunters like the scorpion fish lurk in the shelter of the rocks. In Belize, we had to spend a lot of money for a comparable snorkeling experience, here the ocean became part of our everyday life.

Dana's first birthday far from home will probably remain unforgettable. Andres made sure of that, devoting himself with great joy to the planning and inviting numerous friends.

Everything went according to Dana's expectations until the delicious breakfast with the birthday cake. However, she still had a local birthday tradition to look forward to, which Andres had been particularly excited about for several days. Armed with raw eggs, Dana was chased around the island by Andres and his friends. Since the island consists only of one street, which becomes a dead end after 200 meters, Dana had little chance of escaping the attacks.

To the great joy of the many young guests, a piñata was smashed in the evening. All in all, a successful 20th children's birthday party!

The next report will take you on adventurous dives and report on the fight against plastic.

Saludos!

D&J

Our last post was written at the beginning of the chaos, when Honduras closed all borders and we traveled to Tela by private transport. In the following days, the rules became stricter: all highways were completely closed for private vehicles, there was a curfew, and towards the end, you could only submit a note at the stores for the employees to get everything and only on certain days of the week. The sale of alcohol was also prohibited. Luckily, we were able to make the necessary contacts to buy our after-work beer in a private backyard.

Fortunately, we found ourselves with a Canadian couple and a young American in a beautiful vacation resort with a pool. The operator was very friendly and offered us accommodation for a fraction of the usual price, as no one knew exactly how long we would be stuck there. So the whole situation was relatively bearable for us, but after 1.5 weeks, boredom set in, especially after the others found a flight back home.

Finally, last Friday we received confirmation that we could fly to Frankfurt with a flight organized by Germany. So we wanted to enjoy our last days in a relaxed way. But on Monday, the shock came: because many more Germans subsequently registered, we were removed from the flight. Then everything happened very quickly. On Tuesday at 08:30, we were able to book a flight to Zurich via Houston and New York. After quickly packing and organizing a taxi with a pass, we left for the airport at 09:30. And the flight actually took off.

In Houston, we were able to spend the night with our lockdown roommate, as it happened to be where he lives. Rarely have we seen an acquaintance from a vacation again so quickly. On Wednesday, we continued to New York, to the eerily empty Newark airport. When the Swiss plane actually landed there, we were confident that we would still make it to Switzerland.

Even though the end of our journey fell victim to the corona outbreak, we can overall say that we have enjoyed our trip in South Africa, Namibia, Botswana, Zimbabwe, Madagascar, New Zealand, Argentina, Chile, the Falkland Islands, Bolivia, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, and Honduras, and we will take many good memories home.

Three weeks ago, our time in Honduras began, when crossing the border was still uncomplicated...

First, diving on the Caribbean island of Utila was on the agenda. Due to a storm and Sandro's ear infection, this was only partially possible at first, but in the end we were still able to enjoy a few beautiful dives together. In addition to the beautiful reefs, there were also iguanas, hummingbirds, and caves to admire.

We continued with a 6-day tour in the Río Plátano Biosphere Reserve, the largest remaining tropical rainforest in Central America. We saw many beautiful birds, toads, and crocodiles, but unfortunately the mammals did not want to show themselves. Even though it rained often despite the dry season (Welcome to the RAINFOREST), we enjoyed our hikes through mud and thickets.

The last planned stop was Copan Ruinas, a small city near the border of Guatemala. Here you can find the ruins of a Mayan city and a German brewery, which was unfortunately closed.

So, now the chaos begins. Due to the Corona virus, we cannot cross the border to Guatemala. Furthermore, all airports in Honduras are closed and there are no buses running either. We took a private shuttle to Tela and settled into an Airbnb. When shopping, we had to wait in line for two hours in front of the supermarket just to be allowed in, as only about 10 customers are allowed in the store at a time.

Let's see how things go in the next few days.

We said goodbye to Nicaragua and made our way to the next country. Unfortunately, it is not possible to travel directly to Choluteca by taxi or bus. So, in the morning, we were picked up by a taxi driver who took us to the border crossing. Then we continued on foot. Have your passport ready, collect stamps, exit Nicaragua and enter Honduras. We were given information on where the buses to Choluteca depart. We walked in the direction mentioned. It went through small houses and an endless line of trucks trying to cross the border. No bus in sight for 15 minutes. With a few Spanish words, some English, hand gestures, and pointing, we asked a family sitting in front of their house and observing daily life. 'There is no bus to Choluteca here.' We could only go as far as San Marcos de Colón or take an outrageously expensive taxi. So Ben made his way back to the border to check for the bus to San Marcos, and I stayed outside the family's house with all our belongings. Suddenly, two heavily armed police officers stood in front of me and wanted to see my passport. Well, stupid me. Of all things, Ben still had it in his pocket from the entry. How do you make people understand when you don't speak Spanish and they don't understand English? Fortunately, the family explained to them what was going on. I was relieved when they walked away without giving me any further attention. Of course, they stopped Ben, but fortunately, he could show them our passports and stamps. We caught a minibus to San Marcos and from there, took a large and fairly modern bus to Choluteca. We drove for an hour through small towns and incredibly green nature. Choluteca was just a stopover for us to continue the next day. We had a delicious meal and on the way there, we could watch a fire-spitting street artist. He stood in the middle of the busy street but was able to earn a lot of money with his talent. Other than that, the city has nothing to offer, so it didn't matter that it poured rain the rest of the day. The next morning, we were supposed to leave at 5 am. At least, that was the plan. The driver came with two travelers from León, Nicaragua. One of them had entry problems at the border, so everything got delayed a bit. We didn't leave until 6:30 am. We soon arrived at the border from Honduras to El Salvador. The entry and exit process was very fast. Only our car was checked, and we had to wait here for half an hour. Unfortunately, you won't see anything about El Salvador in our passports. They are so advanced that everything is recorded electronically, and they save the stamps. We continued on. We made a lunch stop in El Tunco. We had a snack, changed vans and drivers, and then we were already on our way to exit. We drove through all of El Salvador and left the country again. And now came the problem that everything is only registered electronically. The nice border official couldn't see that I had ever entered the country. He searched everything, even checked under my name and Ben's passport number. I didn't have any proof that I was legally in the country since there are no more stamps. After half an hour of waiting and some consultations between the official and his boss, I was eventually allowed to exit the country. And again, there was no stamp. Now we were waiting to enter Guatemala. We had endless heavy rain, and the border control point in Guatemala is not covered. Every car had to drive up individually to the official and get the entry stamp. In addition, there was only one lane for both entry and exit, and there was an accident with a motorcycle and a truck. It took forever. Eventually, our journey continued, and we finally arrived in our accommodation in Antigua at 8:30 pm. We had completed the 3 country borders and 678 kilometers. Along the way, we drove some kilometers on the Pan-American Highway. The highway that connects Alaska with Tierra del Fuego extends over about 48,000 kilometers along the entire American continent. We have already covered about 280 kilometers of it. We will do the rest on another vacation ;-).

Most tourists who come to Honduras only visit the islands of Roatan or Utila. We also decided to enjoy a bit of beach life for a change. We had the opportunity to rent our own little island in the Atlantic Ocean, which we couldn't pass up. And luckily, the chosen island was still available. And believe it or not, it didn't cost a fortune. A night in our own Caribbean paradise cost no more than a night in a mid-range hotel in Switzerland. We booked it as a special expense under our budget for 'unexpected extra expenses for absolute must-see's' and it was absolutely worth it. It was one of the top highlights of our entire trip, especially since Jörg and I are not usually beach lovers. Normally, we get bored quickly and feel like we're wasting our time just lazing around on the beach. But this time was different. We had our own private island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and it was a dream come true.

To get to our little island, we had to travel to La Ceiba. There, we stocked up on everything we needed for the days ahead. Being alone on an island means there's no one to cook for you, so we bought all sorts of food, fresh fruits, sweets, water, drinks, and of course, a few bottles of rum. We could have bought most of these things on the island of Utila, but they would have been more expensive since everything has to be transported by boat to the island. So we had to carry a lot of luggage when we crossed over to Utila by ferry.

In Utila, we spent a day exploring the island. Utila is known for the many whale sharks that gather around the island, and there are snorkeling tours offered to see them. Unfortunately, there hadn't been any whale shark sightings for more than 2 weeks, so the tours were temporarily suspended. It was a bit disappointing, but we still enjoyed wandering around the island and spending a few hours at Bando Beach. Bando Beach is a 'private' beach that requires a small entrance fee, but it was included in our hotel package. It had a nice, clean beach and some infrastructure like shaded straw umbrellas, picnic tables, a restaurant, and restrooms. Since it was low season, there weren't many people, which made it quite pleasant. But we knew that the ultimate beach experience was yet to come.

The next day at 11 o'clock, Barry, the island operator, picked us up with a small motorboat. After a 30-minute ride, we arrived at our island, our own secluded piece of heaven in the middle of the Atlantic. We had planned to measure the size of the island and make a video of how long it takes to walk around the whole island, but we got carried away with heavy-duty relaxing. We ended up with 1700 photos, which should be enough. 😊

Upon arrival, Barry gave us some information about the water pump, the kitchen, and the phone. He asked us to let him know every day if everything was okay. Then he said, 'Now it's time for you to get into your Birthday Suit! Enjoy your own island!' And just like that, he was gone, and we were alone on our island. It was paradise. I can't even begin to describe how incredible it was. The first afternoon, we were busy taking in the surroundings and letting it all sink in.

There are 2 bungalows on the island. One bungalow has 2 bedrooms with a total of 3 double beds and a toilet. It can comfortably accommodate at least 6 people. The second bungalow has a fully equipped kitchen with a gas stove and two large refrigerators (even ice cubes were already prepared in the freezer), a living room, and a bathroom with a shower. There's a wooden terrace surrounding the bungalows, and there's a dining table, various chairs, and lounge chairs available.

A typical day went like this: in the morning, we woke up early to the sound of waves. The bedroom had windows with mosquito nets all around, so we could leave the windows open and have a direct view of the sea. What a way to start the day! After rolling out of bed, we settled into a comfortable lounge chair and watched the life around us and welcomed the new day. Birds chirped, crabs emerged from their sand holes and wandered around the island, and iguanas sunned themselves on rocks to warm up for the day. After breakfast, we went for a morning swim in the turquoise sea before returning to our lounge chairs. The island was very windy, which could be a bit uncomfortable at times, but it also meant it wasn't excessively hot. At night, the wind was a blessing! And since we had the whole island to ourselves, we had the freedom to position our lounge chairs on the side of the island shielded from the wind, under the palm trees. Or if we felt like soaking up the sun, we could move our lounge chairs to our private sandy beach. We had found the perfect spot for every time of day and preference on our little island. The rest of the day, we could snorkel in the small reef surrounding the island, swim, take a walk around the island, take hundreds of photos, indulge in tropical fruits and rum, lounge on the beach and listen to the sound of the waves. We had the freedom to choose how we spent our time. And suddenly, it was already 6 o'clock, time for the sunset. So we headed to the dock, which we had quickly chosen as the best spot to watch the sunset over the endless Atlantic. In the evenings, we prepared a delicious dinner and played card games. Or we lay on the dock, looking up at the stars and enjoying the breeze. It was fascinating to see the moon positioned 90° differently in the sky in this part of the world. We would eventually get tired, take a refreshing shower, and fall asleep to the sound of waves, only to wake up to the same sound again. One night, it even rained heavily, and we listened to the sound of raindrops while lying in our cozy bed. And so it went, day after day, without ever getting bored.

What would you bring with you if you were stranded on a deserted island? Well, it's nice to have a loved one by your side. An e-reader is a good thing to have too. And of course, enough food and drinks. Maybe even a bikini, although it's not really necessary. We could have left all our luggage on the mainland; we didn't need any of it.

We originally planned to stay on the island for 3 days, as we usually get bored quickly at the beach. But in the end, we stayed for 6 days, and they flew by. They were some of the happiest times of my life. We enjoyed our time together in paradise, our vacation within a vacation. It was hard to say goodbye and leave this incredible place. Maybe we'll be able to come back here at the end of our journey, to one of the most beautiful places this world has to offer, and experience the paradise once again before returning to the realities of life. That would be wonderful.

When it was time to pay, there was some confusion and misunderstanding regarding the exchange rate. We inadvertently paid about 1800 Lempiras too much. Unfortunately, we only realized this when we were back in Utila, after Barry had already left. We immediately sent him an email, explaining the situation and asking if he could refund the overpayment via PayPal since we were returning to La Ceiba on the mainland that same afternoon and continuing to Tegus the next morning. He asked us for some time to see if he could arrange something with a friend and inquired about the hotel we were staying at in La Ceiba. And guess what? The next morning at 5 o'clock, a taxi driver was waiting in front of our hotel in La Ceiba to bring us the 1800 Lempiras. We had never expected that! Once again, it showed how much the Hondurans rely on personal connections.

What can we say about Honduras? To be honest, it would have been quite boring if we hadn't had so many extraordinary experiences thanks to friends or events that weren't directly related to the country itself. The island, of course, was the absolute highlight, along with Copan. The Hondurans are a peculiar bunch. Edi once said that they are very proud, although it's not clear what they're proud of exactly. As a European, it's already difficult to get used to the general slowness, inefficiency, and 'if not today, then maybe tomorrow or the day after' mentality in Central America. But in Honduras, everything is even slower than anywhere else we've been. It's hard to believe, but it's true. The travel guide describes the mentality of the Hondurans as 'taking things leisurely and calmly.' This is an understatement. 'They snore all day long' would be more accurate.

When it comes to tourism, the Hondurans have realized the importance of tourists as a source of income. They are not shy about charging exorbitant prices to foreigners. Not just the ruins of Copan, but also museums, national parks, and any place that charges an entrance fee, all charge foreigners several times (at least 5-10 times) more than locals. And what do you get in return? Absolutely nothing. There's no infrastructure, no tourist facilities, no activities, not even souvenirs. A good example is La Tigra National Park. As a foreigner, you pay 10 dollars for admission, while locals pay only 1 dollar. However, there are no toilets, guides, or proper hiking maps at the 'visitor center.' It's nearly impossible to efficiently explore the park; there are no transport options, not even organized tours from the nearest major city (Tegucigalpa). There's not even a drinks stand where you can buy water, let alone refreshments or a souvenir shop with a few postcards. Even in El Salvador, where there are fewer foreign tourists, there are significantly more tourist offerings and activities. The Hondurans want a piece of the tourism cake, but they lack business sense, organization, creativity, and initiative. Even on the tourist island of Utila, most hotels, shops, and tour agencies are run by foreigners.

But despite all this, foreigners are treated like royalty in Honduras. As I mentioned, the Hondurans are very proud people, and they always want to show their best side. They don't like it when you say that their country is dangerous, and they immediately try to convince you otherwise. The Hondurans are incredibly helpful. If you ask someone for directions, they'll go out of their way to show you the way, and if they don't know, they'll ask someone else for help. Taxi drivers ask where you're headed when you're on your way to the bus terminal and drop you off right at the door of the correct bus. Even a cleaning lady at a bus terminal approached us and asked if we were looking for something and if she could help. The locals are curious and want to know how long you've been in Honduras, where you've been, where you're going, what you've seen, and whether you like it here. Everyone you come into contact with freely writes down their phone number and tells you to call anytime if you have any problems. And as a foreigner, you get special treatment. For example, one time we had to pass through a metal detector to board a bus. The security guard immediately found our Swiss pocket knife and told us we couldn't take it on the bus. We tried to protest, and it was clear that he struggled with the decision to return the knife to us and let us pass. Instead, he checked the little knife as its own piece of luggage, tagged it with a baggage label, and handed it to the bus driver in the cockpit. We received it back when we arrived at our destination. Another time, an over-zealous security guard removed all empty plastic bottles from our backpack while searching it and kindly offered to dispose of them for us, before we explained that we wanted to keep them and refill them. When we were stopped at a police checkpoint while driving a rental car, I rolled down the tinted window, and the officer quickly glanced at my face, then at Jörg, and waved us through. He didn't even ask to see my driver's license, nothing. I could have been transporting half a ton of cocaine in the car, and he wouldn't have noticed. I'll also never forget how the police officers in Tela drove us all around town, crisscrossing the streets. Honestly, I don't think the Hondurans treat each other the same way they treat foreigners. But they are incredibly attentive to foreigners.

Traveling through Honduras, you can be sure of receiving exceptionally attentive and friendly treatment, but don't expect much else. We spent 3 weeks in Honduras, had a great time, and have some cool memories and experiences, but mainly thanks to personal connections, just like the Hondureños. 😊 It's not to say that there isn't much to see in the country; rather, Honduras has a lot of (touristic) potential that is unfortunately untapped and should be better harnessed and developed to create a functioning tourist trail. That's why I can only recommend Honduras as a travel destination if you have a lot of time and patience, are willing to make the effort to navigate to the sights on your own (preferably with some knowledge of Spanish), and are prepared for the challenges. But if you want to go off the beaten track, Honduras is the place to be.

We actually only went to Tela to visit the Jardin Botanico Lancetilla, the second largest botanical garden in the world and the largest in the Americas (the largest one is in Indonesia). At that time, we didn't know that this would be our most nerve-wracking stop so far. But more on that later.

We took the Hedman Alas bus to Tela again and were very surprised when we were dropped off at a gas station a few kilometers outside of Tela instead of at a bus terminal or a Hedman Alas office. We had also booked our onward journey from Tela to La Ceiba the next day in San Pedro Sula, and the driver reassured us that we would be picked up at the same location tomorrow. Somehow, it all seemed untrustworthy, but well, we didn't really have a choice. From the gas station, we took a taxi to our accommodation, a simple hotel that had just opened and where construction work was still in progress. The "reception" consisted of a table in the hallway.

In the travel guide, Tela is described as a very dangerous city where you shouldn't even be outside the immediate city center during the day. As usual, we inquired about the security situation at the accommodation, and we were assured, as always, that it was absolutely tranquil, meaning safe here. That's always the case. You are always advised to ask locally about the state of security. Typically, however, locals have a different standard for things like security than we do; of course, they always compare their home to even more dangerous places. As Swiss people, we generally have a distorted perception of security compared to the rest of the world, as we hardly have to fear being randomly robbed or shot in the middle of the street. From the locals' point of view, Tela is safe because it is much less dangerous than, for example, San Pedro Sula. From our point of view, Tela is unsafe because it is much more dangerous than, for example, Zurich. Therefore, the locals' assessments should always be taken with caution; they quickly say that it is absolutely no problem to walk around the streets until 10 p.m., although we still wouldn't do that. However, as we would soon find out about Tela, it was much safer for our belongings than expected.

In the afternoon after our arrival, we explored the city center of Tela, where there really isn't much to see. We also spent some time at the beach, which is right in the city and mainly visited by locals. Nothing special.

The next day, we set off as planned to the botanical garden. Normally, we are not plant enthusiasts, but this was a welcome change in our program as well. The botanical garden is named after the Lancetilla River.
The garden was founded in 1925 by the United Fruit Company as a research and experimental station for tropical crops. Vegetative material was imported from 4 continents, genetically improved, and then spread and grown in Latin America. This mainly affected the African oil palm and Asian fruits such as lychee and rambutan, which found their way to Latin America through Lancetilla. After the research station lost importance for the United Fruit Company, illegal laborers occupied the area, cleared plantations, and destroyed a huge treasure of biodiversity and natural gene pool, as well as many results of scientific work. In 1978, the park became the property of the Honduran state, which led to an improvement in the situation.
At the visitor center, we hired a guide who would accompany us on the tour. And since we are not very knowledgeable about plants, this turned out to be a very good idea, as we probably wouldn't have noticed many plants and fruits without his guidance. He also showed us some very poisonous plants, including the tree from which strychnine is made.
Nowadays, the garden serves three important purposes: in addition to preserving the plants, it serves as a water reservoir for the region and as a habitat for many animals. The park consists of three sectors: the bioresearch area preserves tropical plants of the primary and secondary forests, the arboretum serves as a seed bank, and the experimental plantations cultivate crops, woods, and fruits. During the tour, we could also taste various fruit liqueurs and jams (and of course buy them) made by a women's cooperative from the fruits of the park.
After the tour, we had some time to stroll around the park on our own. However, the tranquility soon came to an end as we were suddenly chased through the park by a taxi. We had arranged with our taxi driver who had brought us here that he would pick us up after a few hours. He insisted that we pay for the pick-up in advance, which we naturally refused. In the end, he would just take the money and leave us standing there. We assured him that we would wait for him and would not take another taxi back (besides, there were no other taxis). Apparently, he didn't trust us, returned an hour early, and then searched the park for us. When we said that we actually wanted to walk through an area for another hour that we hadn't seen yet, he was on the verge of leaving the car in the middle of the bamboo tunnel and following us on foot. Slowly getting annoyed, we insisted that he should just wait there, which he did. And exactly there. So that we had to pass him again. Oh my God, that's all I can say.

After returning from the botanical garden to the hotel, we packed our stuff and headed back to the gas station where the bus had dropped us off the day before. We were quite nervous and stressed as it was getting late and already dark, and we were afraid that the pick-up wouldn't work and the bus wouldn't come or that we would have to wait for the delayed bus in the darkness for a long time. We got off, negotiated with the taxi driver who suddenly wanted more money than agreed, and I went to the toilet again and asked at the gas station if the bus really stops here daily. Unfortunately, the gas station staff knew nothing about a Hedman Alas bus stopping here, which logically increased my nervousness. And then... we suddenly realized that one of our backpacks was missing. Not just any backpack, but the one that contained all our electronic stuff (notebook, tablet, camera, lenses, e-reader), binoculars, our documents (insurance cards, vaccination records, etc.), my two glasses, medication, and therefore all our valuables (except for passports, credit cards, and cash, which we luckily always keep separate. And we also have online copies of all important documents.). So exactly the backpack that we usually guard like our eye. Could this really be true? A moment of carelessness and someone had stolen the backpack? There was no other possibility. Due to nervousness and back and forth with the taxi driver, we hadn't noticed anything, unfortunately, we hadn't even paid attention to the people who had passed by us. The only thing we remembered was that there was already another taxi standing there where our taxi stopped to drop us off. However, the fact was: the backpack was gone. And of course, just at that moment, the bus arrived! This couldn't all be true!! We were totally shocked and had no idea what to do; we were still busy searching every corner around the damn gas station for our backpack. We told the bus driver that we were still missing our backpack, but he said he didn't have time for it and drove on. After our consciousness finally processed that the backpack was no longer on the gas station premises and that our bus had left without us, we grabbed a taxi and drove back to the hotel, where we explained the situation to Tiffany, the young lady who works there, and booked a room again.
Barely 30 minutes later, Tiffany's family car arrived; they own the hotel. They loaded us into the car and drove us to the police station. The police immediately followed us to the gas station to view the surveillance camera images. And so we arrived at the gas station, escorted by a police pickup truck and 5 heavily armed officers with heavy artillery. You could say that we stood out a bit when we entered the gas station. It took a while to check the cameras because the gas station manager was not present, and therefore, no one had access to the surveillance system. When his deputy finally turned up and viewed the videos, we found out that you couldn't see anything on the surveillance camera. The place where we got off was exactly in the blind spot. The only thing you could see was our taxi arriving, the other taxi leaving shortly afterwards, and then our taxi leaving again. The idea was to locate the other taxi driver to ask him if he had seen anything, but even the taxi numbers, which are printed prominently on the side doors of the cars, were not really readable on the video recordings. Maybe four hundred-something? Could the second digit be a two? One wonders then why the hell this surveillance camera is even good for anything. After this realization, the police officers soon left because they had just received an emergency call. They said we should come by the station later to file a report.
However, the hotel family said they wouldn't give up so easily and had the gas station employee send them the recordings on their phone. They told us not to worry, they would help us with all the means at their disposal, they said. On the way back, they woke up an acquaintance (it was already very late at night), who then came out only in boxer shorts to look at the pictures. It's a Corolla, he said, built in 2006 or 2007, definitely not 2008. Well, every other taxi here is a Corolla. The taxi number could be one hundred-something? Again, oh great, apparently, everyone sees something different. In any case, the family said that it was too late to do anything more tonight, but they would try to improve the quality of the images on the computer the next morning, and we drove back to the hotel.
Unfortunately, Jörg and I couldn't sleep, but luckily we had a bottle of rum with us, so we sat in front of the hotel half the night, got drunk, watched the rain (it was pouring down), and began to accept that we would never see this backpack again.
Early the next morning, there was a knock on our door. It was the wife of the hotel family, who said that the police would come here soon to talk to us, in about an hour, and we should definitely wait here in the hotel. They themselves would try to find the taxi in the meantime. They had figured out the license plate number, it was 435! How the hell do you know that all of a sudden? Still very hungover, we fell back into bed and waited for the police as told. And we waited... and waited... we stayed in the hotel all day as instructed so as not to miss the police; we were used to delays here. But they didn't come. The hotel family suddenly couldn't be found anywhere either. It was clear to us that it was hopeless; our belongings were probably already on some black market in San Pedro Sula. So we decided to go to the police station in the morning to file the report and then continue to La Ceiba.
Said and done. The next morning, we set off early to the police station where we had already been with the family. Arriving there, suddenly no one knew about our case anymore, and they said that we were in the wrong place anyway. Reports had to be filed at another police station, which was quite far away. But the police are, after all, your friend and helper, and so a patrol was immediately found to take us to the other station. To get into the police car, we even had to climb over a huge machine gun, which was simply leaning against the back seat. The driver and the front passenger didn't make any effort to remove the gun. At some point, the owner noticed the absence of his weapon, and Jörg handed him the huge gun through the car window.
When we arrived at the other police station, we filed the report. Our lost documents also included the two entry confirmations that had been handed to us at the border when we entered Honduras. Since the policewoman didn't know what the consequences of losing these papers were, she promptly arranged for another police car to take us directly to the immigration office. Although the police showed no signs of taking any further action in our case other than filing the report, at least they were very helpful and drove us around with all the stuff. The policewoman who took the report even gave us her private cell phone number in case of any problems or uncertainties; she said we could call her anytime. Anyway, the landline phone at the police station wouldn't work (aha, very reassuring). She had already registered us at the immigration office, so we were already expected there. After a conversation with the officer there, it turned out fortunately that this missing piece of paper was not of significance, and that we had no problems to fear when leaving Honduras. At least something. By the way, during this conversation, we also found out that we would have to extend our visa in Nicaragua, but more on that later.

After that was taken care of, we returned to the hotel to pick up our stuff. There was no one there except the cleaning lady, so we asked her to call Tiffany since we still had to settle the bill. She asked if it was time for us to leave now that our backpack was back... What? Backpack? Back again? Did we mishear something? Did we miss something? - Yes, she said, the backpack was back this morning, didn't we see it? - Ummm... no?!
She immediately called Tiffany, who arrived 5 minutes later together with her mother... and they had our backpack... we couldn't believe our eyes! They actually had our backpack! And everything was in it, everything intact! It was not just a little, no, it was absolutely unbelievable! We really hadn't expected that anymore.
We don't know how they did it, and they didn't tell us in detail. They just said that the whole family had been driving around with our stuff all day yesterday and scouring the whole city to find the backpack. They know each other here, in the small town of Tela. We were too shocked (this time, of course, in a positive sense) to question the whole thing further. We thanked them a thousand times, hugged each other warmly, paid the bill, and even gave the family a generous tip, despite their protests, to at least cover the gasoline costs for the driving around and a good dinner for the whole family, which was nothing compared to the value of my glasses alone. In our euphoria, we also immediately hired the husband of the cleaning lady (who turned out to be the family's cousin), who is a taxi driver and had just had lunch at the hotel with his wife, to drive us to La Ceiba afterwards. We just wanted to get out of here quickly now...

And so it happened that in this dangerous city our lost backpack reappeared as if by magic. Maybe it was more due to some mafia methods. We don't know for sure. Probably we don't even want to know for sure.

What does this story teach us? Take better care of your stuff! Yes, of course, that too. 😊

But it has also taught us a lot about the culture of Honduras. Unfortunately, we have experienced that the official authorities don't really work as they should here. In our case, the police didn't really do anything; they didn't even show up as announced. It's not that the police were indifferent or didn't want to help us. On the contrary. Everyone did what they could within their means to help us. They immediately sent an armed patrol with us to view the surveillance tapes, even though they quickly resigned due to the non-existent outcome. And which Swiss police officer would give you his private cell phone number so that you could call him anytime for any reason? Nor would officers drive you around town in all directions and even make appointments for you at the immigration office. On the other hand, at least the phones at the police station in Switzerland would work (one can't help but wonder what the purpose of the police emergency number is without a functioning telephone). Everyone is trying to help, but somehow the whole apparatus as such doesn't really work. Fairly, however, it must also be said that the loss of our backpack is certainly not the most urgent of problems in a country with such high rates of violent crime. Fair enough.
We have experienced that in Honduras, nothing works without vigilante justice. People here don't rely on authorities; they help themselves. Vitamin B (connections) is the magic word; you play your connections, wake up friends and acquaintances in the middle of the night to identify cars. And the friends also come out in the middle of the night, in boxer shorts, to help.
We have experienced that the phrase "Don't worry, we'll help you as best as we can" really means that they will help you with everything they can. They don't give up halfway.
We have experienced that people take care of other people. That a whole family does everything in their power to help strangers, even though they don't have to.
Here, we have also experienced that in one of the most dangerous countries in the world, most people are kind and decent, friendly and helpful.

Although we had planned to spend only a short 24 hours in Tela, we ended up staying there for 3 days.
Although we only came here to visit the botanical garden, it turned out to be one of the most valuable and memorable experiences of our journey.
And although this experience cost us a lot of energy and nerves, there was fortunately a happy ending. 😊

From Tegucigalpa, we took the bus back to San Pedro Sula. We have to admit that we did not choose our route through Honduras very cleverly, as we ended up crossing the entire country between Tegus and San Pedro three times in total. But that's how it goes on a long-term trip, you just travel spontaneously without much planning, and see how it goes. And it usually turns out that you spend about 20 hours driving back and forth on the same route for no reason.

San Pedro Sula is described in the travel guide as an unpleasant place, and it is. It is considered the most dangerous city in Honduras and you don't feel particularly comfortable here. It is the business capital of Honduras, if you can speak of industry in this country, it is located in San Pedro. It is dirty, run-down, dilapidated, and oppressively hot, and there is absolutely nothing to see. We didn't spend much time in the city either. Actually, we had decided to come to San Pedro to get to the nearby Cusuco National Park, where we hoped to spot a Quetzal once again. The travel guide described that there is a large colony of birds living there and also that it is difficult to access the park, but not impossible. On the internet, it was mentioned that joining a guided tour is the best option. Easier said than done. Several days ago, I started writing to various tour operators that I could find and inquired about a guided tour. In fact, I didn't receive a reply from 90% of the companies I contacted. And the rest did not offer a tour to the park. Even our hotel in San Pedro Sula couldn't or wouldn't help us organize the trip, they even got quite angry when we pointed out that the hotel description stated that there is a tour desk for excursions. Their whole willingness to help eventually consisted of going out on the street and waving down the nearest taxi to take us there. Thank you very much, but we could have done that ourselves! Besides, the taxi driver didn't even know the national park and when I mentioned that I had read on the internet that a 4x4 vehicle is essential for the drive, the taxi quickly drove off again. Finally, we got tired of the whole thing and gave up. As much as we would have liked to see the damn Quetzal, the whole thing with the clueless Hondurans had become too tedious and annoying. I will come back to this special characteristic of the otherwise friendly inhabitants of this country later.

As an alternative, we decided to go to Omoa to visit one of the most colossal Spanish forts on the continent, Fortaleza San Fernando. We traveled there by bus, which was quite strenuous and cumbersome, as we had to change buses in Puerto Cortes. Changing buses is always exhausting and time-consuming in these countries due to the lack of regulated departure locations or times. In addition, the inefficiency of public buses, which stop every few meters to pick up or drop off people, is another factor. No, it seems impossible in these countries for people to think efficiently and get off the bus when it stops near their destination, to pick up someone. No, they stay seated, wait for people to board, the bus continues and then, 30 seconds later and 20 meters further, they announce that they would like to get off now. Of course, walking 20 meters is really too much to ask! Although it is only 65km from San Pedro to Omoa, it took us about 4 hours for one way, so in the end, we spent 12 hours on the road, even though we only spent about 3 hours on-site. Puerto Cortes is an important port city and the never-ending column of trucks loaded with containers that we overtook on the way to the city was truly impressive.
Upon arriving in Omoa, we headed to the beach to have lunch. Omoa is a small seaside resort, mainly visited by local tourists, and it is quite nice there.
Fort San Fernando is also quite nice and actually quite large, although it didn't differ much from the other Spanish fortresses we had seen before. Unfortunately, its actual size was not fully visible because a large part of the exterior areas are overgrown and inaccessible. The most memorable thing for me was the huge, beautiful mango tree that was in the courtyard of the fortress. Unfortunately, the fruits were not ripe yet, otherwise I would have probably eaten them all.
Speaking of mango: there are different types of mangoes here in Central America. In addition to the large ones that we can buy in our country, there are also very small fruits with not much flesh on them. People here don't bother to peel the fruit and cut it into pieces. They simply tear open the skin and nibble the flesh directly around the pit. Somehow they manage to do it cleanly, although I haven't been able to figure out the secret of this process despite intense observation. Now I try to eat the fruits like that from time to time, but unfortunately, I haven't been able to do it without ending up in a huge mess yet.

There is also a small and not particularly interesting museum that tells about piracy in the area. The fortress was mainly built to defend against pirates.

Soon, we set out to find the bus for the return journey, as it would be a long trip again.

The trip to Omoa was not exactly a blast, especially since it involved a lot of effort for very little outcome. But still better than spending a whole day in the ugly and humid San Pedro Sula.

We actually went to La Tigra National Park with the hope of catching a glimpse of a Resplendent Quetzal. The Quetzal is the national bird of Guatemala, a colorful bird with long tail feathers and a very shy nature. It takes a lot of luck to see one, and the chances are much better in Honduras than in Guatemala, or so we had read.

So we drove from Danli to the village of Valle de Angeles, which is near the entrance of the park. The village is located on a mountain slope and is quite extensive. It took us a while to find our "hotel," which was located in a secluded residential area in the midst of a steep forested area, and it was not particularly fun to drive on the steep and narrow forest roads. At that time, we even thought we would drive to the park entrance the next day with this car. But we didn't. Thank goodness. Ernesto, our host, said it would be possible to reach the entrance with this car. It hadn't rained. It was just steep, slippery, and narrow. But well, it was dry. Yes, that should work. - That didn't sound very convincing to me, and I didn't feel like finding out halfway up the mountain that the car couldn't make it, only to turn around and go back. So we decided to hire Ernesto and his 4x4 to take us to the park entrance the next day and pick us up later. Thank goodness. We'll come back to that later.

But first, Ernesto invited us to have dinner with him. So we drove down to the village to buy some things and also had the opportunity to take an evening walk through the sweet little town of Valle de Angeles.
Afterwards, we cooked together. We had Anafre, a typical dish from Honduras, which is a fondue made of bean puree and cheese, served with nachos. A special ceramic container is used for this. We had eaten this before and liked it very much. It is usually an appetizer, but with some sausage, Pico de Gallo, and a few beers, we were all more than full.

During dinner, we talked about God, the world, and Honduras. Ernesto is around our age, and he told us that he is actually a mechanical engineer but no longer wants to work in his profession. He bought this (really big and beautiful) house and built two bungalows on the property, which he rents out to guests. He also operates other bungalows in the mountains that he built himself, where he also offers paragliding to tourists in collaboration with a colleague. He even admits that he does all this illegally. In Central America, they live by the motto "It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission." We had heard this several times before.
Honduras is an incredibly poor country. Even during colonial times, the country was exploited, the Spaniards took the silver, the English took mahogany and other woods. In the 20th century, the country was known as a banana republic, as it was dominated by large U.S. fruit companies at that time. It was discovered that the fertile soils and good climate favored fruit growth and accelerated it. Three large U.S. companies (including the later Dole) acquired large tracts of land for fruit cultivation at a low cost. In 1913, bananas accounted for 66% of Honduras' export business. This not only brought great wealth to foreign banana companies but also gave them extremely great power in Honduras, with politics being dominated by their interests. However, the Hondurans did not benefit much from the wealth generated by bananas. The working conditions were also poor until a two-month strike by 25,000 banana workers in 1954 finally brought about significant improvements. Unions were recognized, and workers gained rights that were unheard of in neighboring Central American countries.
Today, the vast majority of domestic income comes from money sent by emigrated Hondurans in the United States to their families in Honduras. This is not only true for Honduras but also for other Central American countries such as El Salvador. Large agricultural plantations are still owned by foreign companies, although bananas are no longer the most important agricultural product but coffee. Tourism is becoming increasingly important as an economic sector, and according to Ernesto, the call center business is also growing, similar to India. Although steps have been taken towards industrialization, U.S. corporations still dominate the profitable industrial and service sectors, but they create relatively few jobs for locals compared to local small businesses, which account for about 40% of industrial production but employ almost two-thirds of industrial workers.
Ernesto tells us that, in his view, the main reasons for the problems in the country are poverty, lack of education, and fear-mongering. The corrupt government, which is also under the control of the United States, would promote these factors rather than combat them in order to maintain power in the country. About 70% of the population in Honduras is poor. The middle class accounts for about 25%, and 5% are considered rich. As an example, he mentions monoculture, which leads to problems in agriculture here. The land is repeatedly cultivated with the same crops until all the nutrients are depleted and the land becomes barren. When you have to feed your family, you plant what brings the most profit; long-term thinking is difficult with a growling stomach. Furthermore, people are poorly educated, and concepts like crop rotation are not widespread. Or even worse, in the hope of making a quick income, people lease their land at a bargain price to large corporations that then practice ruthless monoculture, make huge profits, and move on when the land is exhausted. The farmers who lose their fertile land in this way have no choice but to move away and seek their fortune in the city. However, since they usually do not have the knowledge or skills to find a decent job there, they end up in the slums on the outskirts of the city, where violence and crime prevail. And so it becomes an eternal cycle of poverty, destruction, and crime.
Ernesto says that it will soon be the same in his village. Sugar cane is mainly grown here, also in monoculture. But the farmers just don't want to listen when you try to give them advice, or they can't because they simply don't have enough to live on. In a few years, the land here will be barren, Ernesto says.
He explains that he is lucky to belong to the middle class. And he sees it as the responsibility of this class to address the problems in the country. The poor people cannot tackle the problems; they are too busy with their own survival, and the rich live in a different world. But the middle class is educated, has resources, and can build something and bring about change. That is the main reason why he no longer wants to be employed and work as an engineer. Instead, he wants to start his own business, build something of his own, so that over time, he can create jobs and help his fellow countrymen.
He tells us that it is a common sight in Honduras for people who come into money to gradually disappear behind thick walls and barbed wire in their beautiful houses because they become afraid of envy. You have to give something back from your own success, otherwise it will never get better for everyone.

I am surprised by how objectively and soberly Ernesto reflects on the situation. It is tough when you see the hardship coming and have to run into it with open eyes simply because you lack the opportunity to change anything. Poverty, lack of education, and fear are bad conditions for the development of a country, and it is difficult to break such a vicious cycle. But I really like his proactive attitude and his willingness to take responsibility, make a difference, and share his success with others. I also think that solidarity is an important key to success; even in Switzerland, the principle of solidarity is an important basis for the prosperity of all. Although at the same time, I struggle with the fact that he has been doing everything illegally so far. It is precisely the taxes that are intended for the common good or at least should be. However, I have to agree that in such corrupt countries, it is somehow understandable that people try to bypass the tax authorities because the hard-earned money of the people disappears without a trace instead of being used to improve their living conditions.

We talked late into the night, and the next day, we had to make our way back to Tegucigalpa to return the rental car, so we said goodbye to Ernesto and set off.

From La Venta we drove to Danli, which is not on the typical gringo trail. We came here to visit a cigar factory owned by the company Jörg's father used to work for. The factory doesn't usually offer tours to the public, but we had the honor of being personally invited and accompanied by the factory manager Rafael.

Right after our arrival, Rafael contacted us and invited us to have dinner together. He had another Swiss colleague visiting, so the four of us went to a steakhouse, which is considered the best restaurant in Danli. And indeed, we enjoyed the best beef we've had in Central America so far. It was really delicious, a convivial evening, and we were very grateful for the generous invitation.

The next morning, we met Rafael at the factory as agreed. The factory produces Al Capone Cigarrillos, which are mainly distributed in the US market. That's why the production location in Honduras makes sense, as there are various trade agreements between the countries that facilitate the import of cigars. Interestingly, the tobacco is not produced here, but imported from Indonesia, which surprised me. But the explanation was simple: using different tobacco would change the taste of the product in a way that the customer would notice. Therefore, the same tobacco is always used, and there is no switch to local products.
At the beginning of the tour, we entered a large hall where the "Rolleros" worked: the women and men who roll the Cigarrillos. This is the most delicate production step and is done strictly by hand. The Rolleros need a lot of practice and experience for this task. Over 300 people work here as Rolleros, and Rafael explained that there are more women because they have more skill for this work. With a smile, he also assured me that women receive the same pay as men, as we had just talked about gender inequality in the workplace the night before. I think that's great! The workers are paid based on the quantity of Cigarillos produced, about 500 Cigarrillos are rolled by one Rollero per day.
The emphasis is on quality, and there are regular quality checks throughout the process. The "heart" of the cigar is the outermost leaf, the "Wrap," which is also the most expensive component. The Rollero must handle it very carefully so that it doesn't tear and fits tightly all around, not loose or wrinkled. The Wraps distributed to the Rolleros are weighed, and a maximum rejection rate of 2% is expected!
I must say, I have great respect for these people. It's tough to do such work, with 500 repetitive movements per day for 9 hours, 5 days a week, and for many years. And yet, they must stay focused, efficient, and produce high-quality work. In my younger years, I worked in a JOWA bakery for a while, where I had the pleasure of rolling ham pastries and topping frozen pizzas on a production line for days on end. It may sound simple, but it's really physical labor, and the monotony was a personal agony for me. And cigar rolling requires even more precision than distributing a few olives on a pizza, and it must be done under constant time pressure.
After the rolling process, the Cigarillos are cut and packaged. The well-known "Sweets" Cigarillos are sprayed with a sweet liquid before they are packaged. The composition of the liquid is a trade secret. Most of these process steps are fully automated, with some modern facilities available for this purpose. The finished products are then stored in large refrigerated rooms and await shipping.

Unfortunately, we weren't allowed to take photos during the factory tour, and I won't provide too many details and facts that we learned. However, we greatly appreciated Rafael taking so much time to answer all our questions. It was, of course, a great experience to have a private tour with the boss. Thanks, René!

The night before, Rafael had asked us if we were interested in visiting a "Puro" factory, where the large cigars are made. Of course, we were! So after the tour at Al Capone, we were sent to another company just outside Danli, Plasencia. When we arrived at the huge, impressive entrance gate, we gave the guard the name that Rafael had scribbled on a piece of paper for us. They were already expecting us... oh man, I have never felt so VIP-like before. 😊

Once again, we were given a private tour of the factory, this time in Spanish, and we were able to ask all our questions again. As I mentioned before, Puros are made here, the large cigars. The products are also intended for the US market.
The tobacco used here is locally grown. All subsequent production steps take place in the factory, from fermentation to packaging. The employee responsible for fermentation takes a big drag from his huge cigar before explaining the various aspects of his work to us. Depending on the height of harvest on the plant, the leaves yield stronger or weaker tobacco. After fermentation, all tobacco leaves are sorted by strength and quality. Women also predominantly work in this area. There is also a large central room where the Rolleros work. They always work in teams of two: one rolls the inside of the cigar, the other rolls the "Wrap" around it. The division of tasks remains the same, there is no swapping. The next quality control is done with a blowing device. An employee checks each individual cigar with a small machine to see if it allows enough air to pass through or if it is rolled too tightly and therefore "doesn't draw" when smoked. Before packaging, there is another extensive quality check. The employees who work here were previously Rolleros themselves. No external staff is hired for quality control because it requires a lot of experience. The employee we meet here is apparently very proud of his work and shows us some examples of poor quality, such as cigars with air holes inside. He happily smokes a fat cigar while explaining and also offers us some of the rejected cigars to try. Keep in mind, these are cigars that can quickly cost $30-50 each! And so we continue our tour, smoking our cigars, along with our guide. Smoking is allowed everywhere in the factory. They live by the motto that workers produce better products when they can taste the products themselves. Of course, nobody is forced to smoke, and the vast majority of employees don't smoke themselves.
Finally, we also see the packaging department here. Nothing is done automatically, and all the work is done by hand.
5000 people work for the company in Honduras, and another 5000 in Nicaragua. Our guide proudly explains that at least 40,000 people (10,000 families) are supported by the work in these factories.
From the first process step, sowing the tobacco plant, to the last step, lighting the finished cigar, it takes 3.5 years, and the product goes through 540 hands. That is truly impressive!
Our guide is from Nicaragua and is a passionate cigar smoker and enthusiast, and you can feel that. He has only been working here for the company for 2 months! Well, someone seems to have found their dream job!

Again, we thank them for their time and hospitality and say goodbye.
It was really interesting to visit this factory. We had visited a similar one in Cuba before, but the visit there was limited to watching a single man roll a single cigar. Afterwards, we were led to the salesroom, where cigars were pushed on us. It was completely unauthentic, purely a tourist spectacle with a clear sales goal. Here, we had the opportunity to tour the entire production facility and learn about all the process steps of cigar production. And since we were the only visitors, we also had the opportunity to bombard our guide with all our questions. Truly a unique opportunity.

If we now compare the two visited factories a bit, what stands out? The cultural difference is more than clear! The Al Capone factory is bright, clean, almost sterile, and smoking is out of the question. It's quiet in the room except for the sounds of work, and some Rolleros listen to music with headphones. The facilities are modern, the production steps spatially divided, organized, everything is tidy. Somehow typically European...
The Puro factory appears somehow more run-down, darker and gloomier. Smoking is allowed everywhere. It's loud everywhere, loud, booming music plays in the Rolleros' room. Nothing is industrialized, everything is done by hand, there are no machines. Everything seems a bit chaotic and disordered. Somehow typically Central American...

After this exciting morning, we leave Danli behind and head towards Parque Nacional La Tigra.

After La Venta, we drove to visit Edi and Martha, acquaintances of Jörg's mother. The two of them have been running a private school here for about 30 years, which they continue to expand. Edi originally came to Honduras in 1987 as a volunteer in a children's home. In 2000, he married Honduran Martha and lives with her and their son in a house right next to the school grounds.
We were warmly invited to visit the place and the school and to stay on the premises. We were accommodated in simple but functional wooden huts, which used to be a children's home.

The school Asociacion Nuevo Amanecer educates a total of 700 students and 270 vocational learners. The school is divided into 3 sectors: the purely Spanish secondary school offers classes 7th through 9th in Spanish. The students here mostly attended a public primary school before. The bilingual sector also includes younger children. Here, all grades and even a kindergarten are offered. Classes are taught bilingually in Spanish and English. The third area covers vocational training, where students can train in 5 professional groups: hairdresser, baker, industrial mechanic, car mechanic, or IT specialist. The training lasts 1-2 years and is carried out in workshops.
The school clearly differs from the school we previously visited, «Niños de Guatemala», in that it is a private school that is supposed to be financially self-sustaining to a large extent. School fees must be paid for attendance, although poorer families can benefit from a graduated fee system that matches their financial capabilities and can also apply for a scholarship for their child to attend school.
While the school in Guatemala clearly targets very disadvantaged children, but also relies solely on donations for funding.
The schools also differ significantly in terms of their requirements. While the school in Guatemala places a great deal of emphasis on basic education (manners, hygiene, social skills, nutrition, etc.), here purely academic learning goals clearly take center stage. Discipline in class is also much more emphasized.
However, both schools ultimately have the same goal: to provide children with a good education, to create opportunities, and to enable a better future.
The Asociacion Nuevo Amanecer describes the education problem in Honduras on its website as follows:
«Despite progress in recent years, the education system in Honduras is still poor. Both the quality of education and the enrollment rates, as well as the infrastructure and teaching materials, are at a relatively low level. This has a negative impact on children's education. In most larger villages, there is a state primary school, but it is often staffed with poorly trained and unmotivated teachers. Unfortunately, many students can still hardly calculate, read, and write even after completing 9th grade.
The low level of education is considered one of the main obstacles to combating poverty in Honduras. Therefore, it is crucial for the population that the education system improves.
While there are numerous quality private schools in Honduras, they are generally inaccessible to poor families due to high tuition fees.»

I particularly liked the workshops, which were well-equipped with lathes, special automotive engines for training purposes, kitchen appliances, etc., thanks to donations from Switzerland and Europe. I think vocational training is very important for these young people. Mastering a trade is always a good foundation for finding a decently paid job or starting one's own business and being able to support one's family.

The school employs 77 staff members, including teachers, vocational trainers, school bus drivers, administrative staff, and guards, making it an important employer in the region. Great importance is placed on hiring and retaining local employees from the surrounding area.
As already mentioned, the school is constantly expanding, with new classes to be added. When we were there, a new building with additional classrooms was just completed. Necessary building materials are sourced locally, and the work provides a welcome source of income for local craftsmen.
Thus, the school has become an important factor in the infrastructure of the small town of La Venta and its catchment area.

It was truly amazing to have the opportunity to get to know Edi's life's work. And it truly is a life's work, as it takes a great deal of dedication, perseverance, courage, and commitment to build something like this and keep it running, especially in a foreign country with different customs and culture. This success truly deserves the utmost respect!

If anyone is interested in further information about the school or even wants to make a financial contribution, here is the link to the school's website:

http://www.ana.hn/wp/language/en/home/

Edi and Martha kindly invited us to dinner, where we also met Hermann, a 73-year-old volunteer from Austria who lives on a houseboat in Sweden. For the past 10 years, he has come to Honduras for 3 months every year and lives here in one of the wooden huts at the school, which he has lovingly furnished and renovated. In return, he volunteers in the school's carpentry workshop; he used to work as a carpenter and obviously has talent.

Martha prepared Baleadas for dinner, a typical dish in Honduras. They are thick tortillas that can be filled with various ingredients (such as cheese, bean paste, scrambled eggs, avocados, etc.).

After dinner, Hermann invited us to have a drink on his self-built terrace next to his wooden hut. We spent a pleasant evening and enjoyed listening to the many stories he had to tell.

It was truly very interesting and an honor to have the opportunity to get to know the Fellmann family and their project, and we would like to express our sincere thanks for the kind invitation!

When people say they are traveling to Honduras, they usually hear: Don't go to Tegucigalpa or San Pedro Sula! It's too dangerous there! In fact, you hardly have any other choice but to pass through these two places if you're traveling in Honduras by public transportation, as these two cities are the main transportation hubs of the country. And since you're already there, you might as well take a cautious look around.

In Tegus, we stayed at a hotel run by a Chinese man in the middle of the city. It was a cheap hotel and you got what you paid for: a bed, a bathroom, and a fan. But it was clean, centrally located, and the hotel also had a restaurant with decent Chinese food. What more could you want?

We spent a day in Tegucigalpa and explored the city center. Overall, I personally liked the atmosphere in the city center here much better than in San Salvador, for example. It's much less run-down and somehow friendlier, busier. But it's still dirty, smelly in many places, and there are some areas where you should avoid wandering around.

We visited the Museo para la Identidad Nacional. To me, it was a museum of frustration. Not because it was bad, on the contrary. There weren't many exhibits, unfortunately, but there was a wealth of information, organized thematically and interestingly. It was my downfall. Why? It was all in text form. In Spanish text form, to be exact. Well, people who have had the pleasure of going to a museum with me might consider it a dubious pleasure. I'm one of those people who enjoy reading every single piece of text. I mean, why not? I paid for it and I want to learn as much as possible! It has become normal for Jörg to give up halfway through and wait for me outside. But even this strategy would have miserably failed in this museum, because there was simply too much text. Too much information. In a foreign language. And even though I quickly picked out the things that interested me most about the history of this country, I gave up after about 2 hours, frustrated by the overwhelming amount of information and my growling stomach.

Later on the same day, we took a taxi and drove to the Monumento de la Paz, which is located in the largest park in Tegucigalpa on a hill. Apparently, sightseeing is not very popular among Hondurans, as the taxi driver didn't even know the place and didn't even know if you could drive up there. Well, you can. On the way, we passed by Honduras' second largest football stadium, and there was a game that day. Football fans wearing jerseys were everywhere in the streets, it was loud, crowded, and... how can I describe this atmosphere?... somewhat "football-like".... just like everywhere else in the world before a football stadium where a game is about to take place... the world speaks football, definitely. Anyway, even an exuberant fan stuck his face through our taxi window and asked if we could give him a dollar so he could watch his favorite team play today, as he unfortunately doesn't have a job! Seriously? Begging for a football game? Well, too bad that we don't have a job either. Even the taxi driver was very surprised by this and said that he would gladly give some money to an unemployed person to buy milk for their baby, but definitely not for a football game. Same here.

The viewpoint on the hill is quite nice. There's a beautiful park with picnic tables and a playground. The view of the city is really good. Interestingly, most people (including the security personnel of the facility) stood at the spot on the observation platform where you had the best view of the football stadium. That seems to be the insider tip here!

From Tegucigalpa, we wanted to go to Danli and La Venta to visit acquaintances of Jörg's parents. Since these places are not very efficiently reachable by public transportation, we decided to rent a car for a few days. So we drove to the airport outside of Tegus, as I really had absolutely no desire to drive through the city center here.
So we rented this car, a Hyundai Accent, and set off on our journey, which turned into a nightmare. It wasn't that terrible, but once again it became clear that driving and I will never become lovebirds. Especially not in foreign countries. The road conditions were much better than in Belize. There were also crater landscapes of potholes here, but definitely fewer. But there was a lot more traffic. The driving style was similar, I would call it Central American driving style: fast, reckless, idiotic, absolutely insane. Overtaking in curves is the norm here, turning two lanes into three is absolutely common, never mind the double solid line, even the oncoming truck doesn't command much respect. And they all emphasize in unison: Yes, we drive sporty, but we can drive, that's why there are so few accidents! Well, I would like to see that accident statistic!
And indeed, a few days and a few nervous breakdowns later, I got used to the rough tone a bit and even let myself be tempted to some daring maneuvers now and then.
I faced a moral dilemma on the highway through Tegus when the cars in front of me all started to overtake another car on the right. Overtaking on the right? You're not allowed to do that! So what should I do now? And while I was still wrestling with myself, it was my turn to overtake the slowpoke, and the dilemma became even bigger: it was a police car! It was a pickup truck with uniformed guys carrying huge shotguns! Can I really do that? Overtake a police car on the right? I could! And I even dutifully signaled with the indicator.... 😊

Because we didn't feel like squeezing ourselves into a small shuttle minibus for the long trip to Copan, Irwin recommended the bus company Hedman Alas, which uses comfortable large buses for this route. As was the case with our trip to Salvador, the large buses only run from Guatemala City. So, from Antigua to the capital, we still had to take a minibus, but that was okay because the journey there only takes about 1.5 hours. The problem was that the minibus couldn't pick us up directly at our hotel because the streets in the neighborhood were too narrow for the bus, and there was only a night bus. So, in the middle of the night at 2:30 am, we had to walk several streets with all our luggage and wait at a lonely street corner for pickup. It was a bit uncomfortable, as you shouldn't really walk anywhere on foot in Central America at night, especially with all your possessions. Fortunately, the bus was on time, which is not always the case in Central America. The transfer in Guate went smoothly, and we were pleasantly surprised because it was a first-class bus that offered similar comfort to the buses in Colombia that we loved so much. Since Hedman Alas serves all major routes in Honduras, this would become our go-to bus company for the coming weeks. The journey to Copan was quite uneventful, and the immigration procedures were quickly done.

The city of Copan Ruinas seems to exist solely because of the famous Maya ruins that are right next to it. The whole town is therefore very focused on tourism. The city itself is quiet, quite safe, and offers a good infrastructure of restaurants and hotels, but it is also quite expensive. Unfortunately, as tourists, we were once again being ripped off more than in El Salvador. We particularly noticed this when we wanted to buy a watermelon from a street vendor who was charging twice as much for the melon as it cost in the supermarket. Normally, we like to support local farmers, but that was a bit too much for us, so we ended up buying the fruit at the local "Despensa Familiar".

In the afternoon after our arrival, we took a tuk-tuk to the Macaw Mountain Bird Park. It is a private reserve for the protection of Central American macaws and other native birds. The red macaw is the national bird of Honduras. The reserve was originally founded on the island of Roatan and served primarily as a rescue center for birds that were acquired by immigrants who settled in Honduras. Many of these immigrants eventually returned to their home countries and wanted to get rid of the long-lived birds, so a place had to be found for them. Later, the reserve was moved to Copan after a large piece of land could be purchased cheaply there. They take in birds from private owners or those that have been confiscated from smugglers.
In the bird park, there are many large aviaries with macaws, toucans, and various other species of parrots. There are many display boards with interesting information about the different parrots, their habitat, and behavior.
In the visitor center, they explain to us that the clear goal is to release as many birds as possible back into the wild. A few weeks ago, 5 toucans were released, and a group of green macaws (10 of them) is currently being released into freedom. They showed us the large cage with a wide-open door, and some birds were still sitting inside. The birds would take a while to venture out and even then, they would return regularly for the first few months and then sporadically. That's why they always provide food to give the birds a safe refuge to come back to and find something to eat. The staff member showed us a photo on his phone of a bird drinking from a plastic cup. At first, it kept coming back to drink because it hadn't realized where else it could find water. A group of 45 red macaws has been released in the ruins of Copan. This place is naturally very suitable, as it is already protected and the birds are not threatened there. But even these birds occasionally return to the bird park.
And indeed, we saw them later, a group of red giant birds flying freely above us. Absolutely majestic! And one of the released toucans even crossed our path.
In the visitor center of the park, you can have your photo taken with parrots. Many parrots were waiting there, sitting on branches and patiently allowing visitors to place them on their arms. We got into conversation with a park employee and asked why the birds wouldn't just fly away. He explained to us that many birds that had lived with humans for a long time simply don't want to fly anymore, although most of them are physically capable of doing so. Only a few of the animals have injuries or limitations that physically prevent them from flying. They are simply not used to flying. Unfortunately, these birds can no longer be released. You can feel this young man's enthusiasm for birds and his work. It really is a beautiful conservation project, which apparently is also quite successful.

The Copan ruins are, without a doubt, the twelfth Maya ruin that we visited on this trip! And I promise you, this will be the last one. But we end our Maya culture journey with a highlight because Copan definitely holds a very high rank in our ranking, which will follow this blog post.
Although Copan does not have large pyramids or other very impressive structures, there are a lot of unique things to see. For example, there are a variety of very beautiful and well-preserved statues. The so-called Hieroglyphic Staircase is particularly impressive. The staircase with 63 steps tells the story of the Copan royal dynasty in the form of several thousand glyphs. But even here, a large part has been restored. Another highlight is the tunnels that were excavated by archaeologists and allow you to enter the interior of the site. We had already heard that it was customary for a new Maya ruler to simply build his own new temples over the old ruler's structures. Here in Copan, through the tunnels, you have the opportunity to visit some parts of such buried temples. The exterior facades with their decorative elements have also been left intact and not removed at these buried temples, for example, the Rosalila temple, which is why it is assumed that these temples must have had a special significance. A replica of the Rosalila temple is on display in the associated museum. And here we come to the last big plus point of Copan: the Museum of Maya Architecture is truly breathtaking and one of the best we have seen. Well, me. Because Jörg had grown tired of Maya museums and knowing that I always need my time in museums, he found a nice spot in the shade outside in the park and waited for me there. The museum displays some original statues that were removed from the site for conservation purposes. There are also many reconstructions of ancient structures and portals. The museum is very large and spacious, no expense was spared, so the generous exhibits are wonderfully showcased.
The number of visitors in Copan is considerably lower than in other places, so the atmosphere is very inviting. We spent a cozy afternoon at the site, and we also saw the free-flying macaws above us, which had been released here. It wasn't very difficult to overlook the birds, as they don't count as songbirds with their deafening squawking.
As evening approached, we made our way to the exit. Suddenly, more and more of the beautiful red macaws came. It was feeding time! Indeed, a park employee brought food and filled large troughs. And then they all came! The entire colony of birds that had been released in the park flew over to the troughs, landing just an arm's length away from us, and enjoyed the fruits. It was absolutely enchanting, with red, blue, and yellow spots everywhere in our field of vision as the birds flew wildly around us and between the troughs and trees. And in the process, they were sometimes quite mischievous, almost brushing past us in their rapid flyby.
Of course, you may wonder if these are truly free-flying birds when they are fed daily and cannot fend for themselves for survival. Well, the distinction is made between fed birds in cages and fed birds that can freely fly in their natural habitat within a picturesque and protected ruins site. I definitely prefer the latter. In addition, the entire fauna is enjoying the feast, various other birds and even squirrels could be observed. And the ruins are unlikely to be forgotten and lost again anytime soon, given their economic importance to the local population, so the survival of the birds is at least "long-term" secured.
I could have watched the birds' activities for hours, but at some point, we had to tear ourselves away from the dreamlike sight as the site was closing. In any case, I would recommend visiting the Copan ruins in the afternoon and not missing the feeding.

And now, here it is, the end of the Maya culture part of our journey, our final words, our conclusion, our evaluation of the visited Maya ruins:

The following criteria were evaluated:

Spectacularity (is this even a word?)
Is the ruin itself spectacular? Is the architecture unique? Are there particularly special buildings? Are there decorations, statues, decorative elements? Is there a good museum? Does the site stand out from others with a special element?

Ambience, Surroundings
What does the surroundings offer? What is the atmosphere like? Is there a beautiful forest? Are there animals? Can you spend a relaxing day on the site? Is it expansive? Or are you in the middle of an urban area? Is there something in the surroundings that makes the site particularly unique?

Visitor traffic
How crowded is it? Does it have the atmosphere of a crowded amusement park? Is the crowd so big that it becomes unpleasant? Or is it rather deserted and idyllic? Do people distribute well?

The criteria "Spectacularity" and "Ambience" were given double weight in relation to the criterion "Visitor traffic".

The undisputed top 4 are Copan, Tikal, Palenque, and Lamanai. They offer a truly beautiful and comprehensive range of architecture, ambience, and nature.
You can argue about the 5th place because Chichen Itza and Tulum both have the same score. But definitely, one of the two deserves 5th place, depending on whether you prefer the beautiful beach location of Tulum or the spectacular pyramid of Chichen Itza, in any case, you will not be alone in both places.
So if you are planning a Maya tour in Central America, these are our recommendations! 😊

After our spontaneous detour in Mexico, we didn't want to miss out on a highlight in northern Guatemala: the Maya city of Tikal. Tikal is not only enormous, with an area of about 65 square kilometers surrounded by rainforests, but also one of the most important cities of the classical Maya period (3rd to 9th century). Many buildings here have not yet been excavated and explored. In addition to the impressive structures, there is also a diverse flora and fauna to admire. The detour was worth it!

After two nights, the journey continued to Honduras, for which we initially had to endure a strenuous bus ride. The day started with us being sent to the bus station at 4:30 am. However, the bus didn't actually leave until 6:00 am... The bus for the first leg of the journey was a so-called Chicken bus, used by the locals. After the driver actually managed to get the almost falling apart vehicle on the road, we had to endure 4 hours of sweating (we're talking about 'German Rail ICE summer conditions'). We were looking forward to changing to the promised air-conditioned bus! When the time came, we realized that the new bus that was supposed to take us across the border was air-conditioned, but we had to stand for 6 hours... It wasn't until the third change that we had a bit more comfort, and after about 14 hours, we arrived at our accommodation. The next day, we took the ferry to our final destination, the island of Utila, which is known for its good and affordable diving courses. We spent the next five days on the island, with Thilo diving and me doing yoga and chilling by the sea. While the island may not have Caribbean dream beaches, it has a super relaxed atmosphere. After the short week, we were looking forward to traveling to Nicaragua to get to know the country and its people.

Since we always post our reports with a bit of a delay (it's really stressful here ;-) ), as a little orientation for you: We left Honduras on May 27th, a month after our departure from Germany.

But the crew really took care of me. Always bringing ice cubes to cool down, towels, and a new barf bag. Thanks for that.

Fortunately, I felt a bit better when we arrived. The first impression of the island was really great, it's even better than Caye Caulker. There's just more going on here. More restaurants, more bars, and a lot more people. If you're a passionate diver, this is definitely the place to be. There's a dive center on every corner. But we'll go for the soft option again: snorkeling :)

Our hostel, 'The Venue', is really cool too. It's just a tiny house and each room has 3 bunk beds. Nothing more :D I have no idea how I managed to sleep peacefully in that bed, because in the morning I noticed how many slats were missing from my 'mattress support'. And at first, I thought the mattress was just extremely worn out. I wonder when I'll fall through :) And I didn't have a pillow on the first night... sob.

Behind our hostel is the Upper Lagoon and right in front of it is the beach. It couldn't be better for us.

Unfortunately, there aren't many people in the hostel, but we're making the best of it. Of course, we definitely want to go kayaking. Let's see if it goes better this time than in Caye Caulker. But I'm optimistic, we're experienced now ;D

Of course, we treated ourselves to a bike again. We all got a pretty pink one with a basket, ooh. It's really the easiest and most comfortable way to explore an island. Sometimes we couldn't go any further, but that's okay. The bike seats were unfortunately more uncomfortable than expected. I have sore muscles in places I never thought you could even get sore muscles :D

One of the recommended bars here was Treetanic, which was really great, but somehow nobody was inside. I don't understand it at all, because the bar was really cool, like a little museum. Everywhere you looked, there was something different to discover, but see for yourself ;)

We're definitely having a great time here and I'm curious to see how many days we'll end up staying...

After 2 boat rides, 2 bus rides and another transfer to a smaller car, we reached our next and only destination in Honduras after many new and contrasting images of slums and new development areas, bad and excellent roads, sugarcane, banana and pineapple plantations... the small island of Utila. Everything here revolves around diving! So that was our plan too. There's simply not much else to do in this place. Utila belongs to the Bay Islands group and is located off the coast of Honduras in the Caribbean Sea. As the world's second largest barrier reef stretches here, it is a Mecca for all diving enthusiasts... and also the world's cheapest diving spot. There is only one place on the island, Utila Town. The mentality here is a mix of British-Caribbean-Honduran flair. Once discovered by Columbus, occupied by the Spaniards, besieged by British pirates like Henry Morgan, and today part of Honduras.

Currently, it is still low season here and the weather is unpredictable. It has rained a lot, which is not so important for diving... you get wet anyway ;-) but it has slightly affected the underwater visibility. Nevertheless, very worthwhile!

So we relaxed and enjoyed some leisurely days... and once again stayed longer than planned. As a conclusion, we were able to feel a bit like Robinson Crusoe on "Water Cay", one of the lonely small islands around...

On Friday, September 30, 2016, after a relaxed breakfast with Speedy and Jannik, we went to the airport, checked in quickly, and bought the latest issue of Diving - a must. Not much later - because I was once again running late - the plane took off and we headed to Oslo, where you can neither smoke nor eat cheaply. Those Norwegians are crazy: they wanted 18 euros for half a liter of Carlsberg!!!

My stay in Oslo was also relatively short, and I flew further towards Fort Lauderdale. After endless immigration, customs, and other checkpoints, I finally arrived at the baggage claim, where the first setback of the trip awaited me - my backpack was not there, but at least my diving equipment was - think positive. After a funny Black guy had taken the baggage claim, I had to go through more checks until I finally made it to America. Quickly check in again and fly with the budget airline for another 2.5 hours to San Pedro Sula. Arrived shortly after midnight local time (shortly after 08:00 in Germany) I learned that no taxis would run until 04:00/04:30 so I had to wait again. At this point, I had been traveling for 22 hours. It was quickly arranged to share a taxi with 4 people to save some money, then into a bus and 3.5 hours later arrival in La Ceiba at the ferry terminal. Finally, it looked a bit like paradise and not like a palm tree in a garbage pile. I bought some lychees, a coffee, and went on board. There, I met some super eco-Canadians who only talked about plastic in the ocean and came up with the wildest theories, including that the plastic islands no longer exist, they have all been 'dissolved' in the sea, and the sea is now made up of almost 60% plastic. Yeah right.

On the island, I got to know the other Utila Dive Centre DiveMaster candidates, including Jeremiah, a laid-back guy from Maui, Hawaii. The island is about living in slow motion and without stress, everyone in shorts and barefoot, and if something doesn't work out today, well tough luck, maybe tomorrow. Every day there are thunderstorms, the dive school has had no power for a few days, and the accommodation has no phone, but it's also the weekend - nothing happens here before Monday. Jeremiah and I both lost our luggage, so we went shopping first. At the pool, we met an Englishman who had been smoking and drinking beer in abundance since our arrival. It quickly became clear that he is my new squad. After taking care of the most important things, we went to the dive school, filled out registration forms, bought cigarettes, took a shower, and then had a boozy evening with the dive school. The new DiveMasters were asked to pass the snorkel test. Pouring two rum colas and a beer into the snorkel with a diving mask on. The instructors thought it was great to add a bottle of Tabasco. Haha, one girl sprayed a few meters when she just couldn't take it anymore. We continued to the local 'clubs' - Tranquilo and Vinyl. They're fun and a real gathering of dive students. At midnight, I decided to go to bed, as I had been awake for 48 hours, except for a few short naps. Sunday was still free, and the only thing we managed to do was organize an apartment and watch a rescue video and answer a few questions. Off to bed at 21:15 - woke up and wrote the first entry at 05:03! I haven't arrived yet, but even the early darkness at 18:00 is driving me crazy.

Today is the start of the Rescue Divers...