The Angel with the Pull-a-Long Case

The Angel appeared unto me.  

'Do you speak English?'

'No.  Donde?'

'Palmira Hostel.'

'Palmira?'

'Si.  It used to be in Ecuadorian Embassy'.

'No, no, no siente'.

Angel thinks a minute.  

'Si, si, Embassario'.

<Angel opens google translate on her phone and types furiously>

Angel shows me the phone.

It says 'I go over there'.

'You are going there too?' I exclaim.

Thanks to google translate, she explained that she was living close to the Embassy, having just been with the Ambassador of Honduras in the US.  I couldn't quite believe that this was happening.  A woman I hadn't even noticed on the bus was now offering me a lift to my budget hotel.

Her driver arrived and she showed him the Palmira Hostel on the google map.  I climbed in and we drove for what felt like miles.  

Some of you will be thinking - I can't believe that you actually got into a car with a complete stranger.  I hasten to add that travelling alone is a curious phenomenon, awash with pros and cons.  The pros - you reconnect with yourself; you reconnect with your faith because it is often all you have to rely on; you have incredible adventures which others will never have; you chat to all sorts of people that you probably wouldn't chat to if you were travelling with someone.  Fundamentally, you have to decide very swiftly whether you can trust someone.  In this situation, the choice was simple - stay alone in a dangerous capital at a now deserted bus station, or go with a kindly lady whose driver is on his way.  Were I to be leading a group, I would obviously have organised for a local vehicle to meet us at the bus station; but I wasn't, it was just me.  

The cons of travelling alone? There is no-one I can turn to in three months and say 'do you remember when...' because no-one was there with me; also, it can be a bit lonely eating by oneself - I find that on the road, it's always pleasant to have a companion with whom to have a drink or a meal - you only need to them what you want to about yourself and your life - and you'll probably never see them again anyway.  The word 'companion' comes from the French - 'comme' meaning 'with' and 'pain' meaning 'bread', therefore someone with whom your share your bread.  

We arrived at Palmira Hostel, 'the best budget hotel in Honduras' - to be fair, I'm not sure how much competition there is.  I was hoping that the bar would still be open so that I could spend one final night sipping beer on a roof terrace.  But there was no beer; in fact, there was no bar either.

My little room had a little balcony, and I sat there for an hour or so writing last night's blog, then settled down to sleep.  I was worried about mosquitoes, until I remembered the six hours I'd spent travelling away from the coast, so stopped worrying at that point.

I had envisaged a chilled out evening experiencing Tegucigalpa, but it wasn't to be.  I spent the hour I had in the morning soaking up the view of the city, much of which seems to be built into the mountains, swinging in a hammock for one final time, and frantically trying to finish the book I was reading.  There was a quirky roof terrace with some nice furniture, including a wooden swing from which to watch the world. 

I checked out and met a French lady who was also travelling by herself- we spoke French, which I can speak; she also speaks Spanish, which is very useful in that part of the world.  She appeared to be a wanderer, taking each day as it comes, choosing day-by-day how long to stay where.

A taxi-man kindly took me to the airport which has got to be amongst the tiniest international airports in the world.  I breakfasted right by the flight strip (in a café overlooking it, rather than on the runway, which was not permitted) and finally finished my book! I checked in, perused the souvenir shops, then went on through security. 

I had the most thorough security check from a friendly immigration individual.  She emptied my entire rucksack in front of me, locating all sorts of items I had lost in the depths of my bag on the trip, for which I was grateful, but could not convey my gratitude in Spanish, for fearing of accidentally confirming that I was carrying something dodgy, which I obviously wasn't.  She seemed particularly interested in my front door keys and key-ring, especially the winking mini emoji cushion which I think she was hoping was stuffed with something.  

Tegucigalpa Airport was awash with missionaries! I have never seen so many missionaries.  At least three different missions had taken place that week in Honduras, and the missionaries were now heading home to various parts of the US.  There were big missionaries and small missionaries, old missionaries and child missionaries.  One group were clad in blue t-shirts - I spend a lot of time with people in blue t-shirts, so I knew they were ok.  I chatted at length with some of them and had some very interesting faith conversations.  They had been doing all sorts of medical work in Honduras, as well as dentistry, taking their skills to serve the people of Honduras. 

Another group were clad in grey t-shirts with an acronym and 'More Than Medicine' emblazoned across their chests.  Their mission was meant to be in Nicaragua, but there is a little-known civil war there at the moment, which I didn't know about.  I have always wanted to go to Nicaragua since I first found a postage stamp from Nicaragua back in my philately days that sparked my interest in the world - it had a chicken on it.  I hadn't heard of Nicaragua before seeing that stamp and looked it up on a map.  I nearly went there on this trip, but probably best that I didn't.  Maybe next time, once I've learnt sufficient Spanish to get by; being able to order beer is useful, as is being able to ask the President of Chile where the toilets are, but I can't help thinking that a lot of other conversational Spanish would be extremely useful.  

I had a long conversation with one of the grey t-shirts who told me all about the work they had done treating poorly animals in Honduras.  In the next conversation he was telling me that he and his wife are great hunters and spend their weekends shooting things.  There must be some logic in there somewhere, but it felt like a bit of an oxymoron to me - the Animal Loving Shooters.  

About to board the London flight now.  Sleep tight people.