Shortly after arriving in Honduras, I was informed that the next week was a school holiday. All the other teachers would not be returning until the 10th of July, so I was essentially free to either stay alone in the volunteer house or take the time to travel. On a whim (and fighting an overwhelming urge to be stay home and “be productive,” whatever that is supposed to mean when you’ve hardly settled into life in a new country), I booked a bus ticket with Hedman Alas to a place on the west side of Honduras called Copán Ruinas. Other volunteers had done the trip prior, and they were able to give me very clear instructions on how to finagle it myself.
Sunday morning, bright and early, I walked to the Brisas “bus stop,” took a pirata/chicken bus al Terminal, tried to figure out how phone plans work here, then boarded a beautifully air conditioned Greyhound-like bus. My ride was relatively uneventful, but I did have a nice conversation with a Honduran teen about the book I was reading (One Hundred Years of Solitude) and got to see gorgeous, rainy sights out my window. I also had time to listen to my own music for the first time since the plane, so it felt emotional and comforting.
By the time we arrived, the rain reduced to simply a drizzle. Equipped with waterproof hiking boots, I took on the rather empty streets of Copán in search of my hotel. I was still quite nervous to have my phone out in any capacity, so I had to “somewhat” memorize the maps. Thankfully, my small moments of being lost led to trying atol de elote (a sweet, hot corn drink) from a street vendor and having pleasant conversations with townspeople. I even met a kid wearing a U of I shirt and had a chat about Illinois! Eventually I managed to find my hostel, which was essentially a hotel given the lack of tourists, and got settled in. That night, I went up to the commonplace on the rooftops and met one of the few guests staying there. He was a middle-aged Irishman, biking his way from Virginia in hopes of making it to Argentina. Prior to the pandemic, he sold his house and everything he owned and started his journey. We chatted about the odds and ends of the world, including travel stories and when not-so-happy people interfere with our plans. After telling me about being held at gunpoint and of how fake wallets can help, he actually gave me an extra fake of his own (if you’re a thief in Honduras, disregard this). Throughout my time in Copán, I consistently ran into him either as I was coming or going to attractions, and we shared our novel know-how and must-do’s of the day before continuing on our ways. The sense of community among solo travelers is strong, and something I enjoy immensely. It adds to the list of reasons I need to find my way to El Camino de Santiago one day. (Also no, there was no tracker or something of the like in the fake wallet. After two friends back home mentioned this, I did a thorough check just in case.)
The next morning I walked up the mountain to Parque de Aves, where I saw rehabilitated macaws, toucans, and other parrots. On some of the islands on the east coast of Honduras, expats would purchase macaws only to leave them behind when the next travel opportunity hit. The sanctuary seeks to help the birds return to the wild and care for those that cannot, as well as breed those native to the area but in decline. I believe the “native” scarlet macaw population in Copán is fully reintroduced, but I am not for sure. Nevertheless, my heart went pitter-patter for the birdies and from there (well, after waiting out the rain with the Irishman I ran into again), I headed to El Lugar del Té & Chocolate for dinner and desert. The place was adorable, with lush gardens, cute decor, amazing views, and photogenic food and drink all made from Honduran-grown cacao. With the light coffee shop jazz/samba music playing, I felt like I on a balcony in Rio, living the high life, book in hand, breeze in my hair. To summarize, it was a white-girl-with-an-Instagram’s dream, and well, I fit the bill to a certain extent (yes, this one has some self-awareness!).
Tuesday I spent most of my day at the Ruins. There was simply so much to take in, from the ruins themselves to the hiking trains filled with colorful birds (I officially saw my first motmot!) to amount of historical knowledge available to take in. It was a very haunting experience to step on the same stones that the Mayans placed and used thousands of years ago.
I also met a Frenchman named Lucas who became my new Irishman solo-traveler run-in person (only temporarily, the Irishman also passed me on my way back to the city center), and our only common language was Spanish! I’ve had this happen before a few times, but it isn’t often that the lingua franca involved in an exchange isn’t English. Nevertheless, we helped each other ask questions to the ruins staff who mostly only spoke Spanish– traveler helping traveler once again. After the ruins I tried to head to a sunflower field, but the rain picked up and left me looking for a place to hide (and provide light given the power was out). I chose the same cafe as before, and spent the evening reading, sipping hot chocolate and eating tamales (not a super common Honduran food I’ve noticed), and enjoying the view with the sound of heavy rain lulling me into a deep, much needed calm. Once the rain halted and the lights were back on, I returned to the hostel for the night and woke up bright and early for my bus ride home. Copán was a lovely, kind place without those typical tourist trap vibes, and I’d definitely visit again if I were in the area.
Happy reading,
-Beppa