Tegucigalpa, Honduras: A Land of Extremities

For three days, April and I journeyed to the capital city of Honduras, Tegucigalpa - a place known most for its gang violence, petty theft and poverty (according to what we read prior, at least). And the moment we landed, it was very evident that we were all of the sudden, very far from home. We had arrived in Central America…finally.
Subsequent activities led us to believe that although unique and thrilling, we would never want to reside in this Honduran capital, locally referred to as “Tegus.”

Aside from the surplus of shabby and underfed dogs, you had to watch your step in the streets to avoid monster sized chickens and roosters. And the driving – it’s like nothing I could have even imagined. And I have an active imagination.

“Tegus” is made up of tiny, curvy and mountainous cobblestone and dirt streets – one might even call them alleys. All of which, are filled with thousands of crazed Honduran drivers with places to go, situated in derelict cars with remarkably functional horns. In fact, we learned that the horn (a very popular commodity in Honduras) or, “El Pito,” has a multitude of meanings. One beep can mean anything from “Do you need a taxi?” to “I’m about to cut you off dangerously” to “Hola” to “Go ahead, cross the street you American” to “Thank you.” Two or three brief honks warns intersections or pedestrians that the car is approaching rapidly and will not be slowing for any reasons (despite red lights, stop signs or tight fits). And the long, steady beep signifies that you really fucked up (just as it is anywhere else), and the driver truly, wants you dead.

Single lane, one-way streets remain unmarked. The few that are randomly marked, occupy mad cars driving the opposite direction of the cited regulation. The rule as to which street goes which direction seemed to reside only in the memory of the Hondurans. As if one day, the crazies decided to change the direction of certain streets, and so, they did.

So why not rent a car?

After speeding the wrong way down my third or fourth one-way street while being dodged by oncoming traffic by the hundreds, and failing to hop a curb (which was April’s solution for an exit strategy), one might argue it wasn’t the best of ideas. And while Hondurans used the long, steady beep to let me know they wanted me dead, I calmly reversed off the curb, avoiding pedestrians and autobuses and turning into “safety.” And just as we managed to get in the right direction of traffic, we approached a Honduran road block. The young cop flagged us to the side and spouted off something about the danger of having our hair blow in the wind, and the steering wheel being off center. I didn’t have my passport on me, and that was also, a problem. After some talking to the cop and his Honduran friend who approached us for a second opinion, we were released. Actually, in fewer words, he told us to get the hell out of there.

Maybe the driving wasn’t such a great idea.

Nonetheless, we made it out alive. By the time we returned the white Mitsubishi to the airport, I was fluent in Honduran Driving: honking at just the right time, passing confidently on blind curves, ignoring road signals and managing to drive, for the most part, with the flow of traffic.

And this was only the beginning of our trip. The extremities in “Tegus” – they’re for real. Some worth noting:

- The Most Conservative Man in Honduras. He was a pastor and this man believed movies were evil. He also believed, that when God called him to do things, he could negotiate with him.

- The Creepiest Taxi Driver. An alleged “Douglas” slipped me his number while being uber-creepy and sloth-like. Never in my life had I been more confident that my next stop was a Honduran brothel, than that ride.

- The Craziest Woman After an Accident. This chica ripped a man out of his vehicle, possibly with a gun (it was too tough to tell for sure), and proceeded to go ballistic over an accident in which the damage could not be found.

- The Softest Spoken Waiter. It was just random. Cultures have unspoken disconnects too.

- The Most Prostitutes on One Corner. Actually really concerning and sad, but one of the most public displays of prostitution I’ve ever seen.

- The BEST Hotel for $20. I recommend Hotel Granada 2 as solidly as I recommend anything else. For a poverty-ridden country, our iPods and computers in the room remained untouched.

- The Woman with the Most Obscure Hair Growth. A perfect horizontal line of curly hair was found on the sweet Spanish woman’s neck who served as one of our guides from Compassion International. I’m forever perplexed.

- The Most Cultured Establishment in Tegus. A garden, an art gallery, a restaurant, a hostel. It was all of these and more.

- Most Inventive Law Enforcement Officer. “You can’t drive with your hair in the wind. It’s dangerous and I should give you a ticket.”

- The Whitest Latino. Apparently, albinos exist in every race. Only the look - much more drastic.

- The Lamest Airport Scam. If you want to play off of Latinos’ fear that their bags will get robbed in transit, why not offer plastic bag wrapping for $7.50? Like lemmings, one Latino after the other forked over the Lempira to have their suitcase wrapped in saran wrap. They felt much more safe.

- Widest Discrepancy of Gender Attractiveness. The men – hot. The women – not.


We’re now back in Panama - where the roads are safe and the chickens don’t cross the roads (I couldn’t resist). More soon.