I can't believe I've been here one week today. August is the hottest month in Utila, and I've taken to wearing not-so-charming sweatbands on my head to keep the sweat out of my eyes. Mid-day the sun bakes into every pore, so it's good to be out and about earlier or later in the day. That said, I'm loving it here!
My daughter made the trip with me and spent five wonderful days here as I became acclimated to the island. I should have been blogging each of those days, regaling you all with the wonders and mysteries of Utila, but I hesitated being rude to my daughter, since we will not be seeing much of one another in times to come.
Travel to Utila went fairly well. We flew Delta from Milwaukee, changed in Atlanta, and arrived in San Pedro Sula, Honduras on time and with no difficulties. I was made to buy a return ticket to the states: apparently Honduras wants you to leave in three months. However, I intend to apply for residency, so an extremely helpful Delta employee helped me buy a refundable ticket back to the states. It was a very expensive ticket, hence the refundable factor.
Arrival in Honduras was a little bit of a culture shock. The airport was not as efficient or high-tech as in the states. There was a long line to get through customs, but an airport official kept scanning the lines and picked out the elderly, disabled, women with small children and, I believe, a few beautiful women to move to the fast exit line.
Our driver, Ralph, was waiting for us with his "taxi": a Kia pickup. Driving in Honduras is a real challenge. They drive on either side of the road...lines mean nothing...and while Ralph got us to the ferry in La Ceiba safely, there were times when I just closed my eyes and prayed.
The trip from San Pedro Sula to La Ceiba took over two hours. We stopped at a nice restaurant where we had an excellent buffet-style meal, although the restrooms left lots to be desired. The poverty of Honduras was evident throughout the drive. Many homes were little more than shacks. Surprisingly, the more affluent, well-maintained homes were built right next to the ramshackle residences with month's worth of trash strewn about. People mostly walked or rode bicycles. Dogs roamed the streets, their prominent rib cages giving them a skeletal look. Horses...overloaded with bundles of sticks or fruit from the African Palm, which is processed to make palm oil...looked emaciated and sickly.
We just made the ferry on time. Ralph took care of checking our luggage, while I bought tickets to the island. The water was calm and the almost-one-hour trip, uneventful. I felt a sense of euphoria as I disembarked the Utila Princess. I had really done it! Jan was waiting for us with her golf cart, and she drove us first to the grocery store, and then to the Sandstone Apts.: my new home. Victor, the caretaker, speaks only Spanish, and Jan, Monice and I speak only English, so a lot of pseudo-sign language took place.
After being up for the past 16 hours, and travelling for 12 of those, we were too tired to unpack all but what was needed for sleeping. Also too tired to prepare a meal, we had bought a bag of nachos and some cheese sauce along with two bottles of wine at the store. I unpacked the "Life's a Beach" wine glass, and we retired to the deck outside with our treats. We toasted my new life as we listened to the sound of the surf.
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