The Ferry ride on the D-express was nice, easy and fairly comfortable. And yes, I was able to buy a ticket when I arrived.
Just more than two hours after leaving Independence, Belize we arrived in Puerto Cortes, Honduras. It is a small port and where the ferry arrives is a fresh fish market so I'm assuming the fishermen all bring their catch in right there as well.
As soon as I stepped off the ferry I was met by someone wearing a D-express polo shirt who asked me if I wanted to change my Belizean money.
Oh right, money, almost forgot. My plan had been, knowing that nowhere in Honduras would they take Belize dollars, I would go to the bank in Placencia and change my money for US dollars. It was a lovely idea. But it doesn't work that way.
In the bank the first thing they wanted to know is what I wanted to change my money for. Now I know I look like the type to be doing something shady, probably a money launderer. I explained I was going on a weeklong dive trip to Utila. They told me they would only change $500 BZD ($250 USD). Well that wasn't going to work. I asked if I could change the money when I arrived in Honduras. They said that I could change my money when I got to Puerto Cortes BUT that the banks there would not change my Belizean dollars for Honduran Lempiras. Okay, I'd change it in Puerto Cortes.
I told the man who met me at the ferry that yes, I wanted to change my Belizean dollars for Lempiras. He said they were giving an 8 Lempiras to 1 BZD rate. Let's review, the going exchange rate in Belize for BZD to USD is 2 to 1, for every $1 USD I get $2 BZD. So if they are giving me 8 to 1 for my Belize money that equals 16 to one in US dollars. The exchange rate the day I got to Honduras for Lempiras to USD was 21 to 1. I definitely got the short end of that deal. You might wonder why I didn't just go to a bank and use my ATM card to get money out -- a US account I'd get the 21 to 1 rate. The reason I didn't do that was that I had been reading some posts recently of people having some issues with their card being compromised after using an ATM in Honduras.
Okay, water under the bridge, next time I'll do it differently, but I sure could have used that money I lost in the exchange..
The same guy who changed my money also asked where I was going and if I needed a taxi. I explained I had to get to San Pedro Sula. I was then introduced to a lovely Australian couple who were traveling through Central America and they too needed to take a cab to a hotel in San Pedro Sula, we could share and save a bit of money.
We stuffed all our luggage into the trunk of the taxi and off we went towards San Pedro Sula. I had the name of the hotel I had a reservation at and the address and gave both to the driver. You've never really lived until you take a taxi ride in Honduras. Intersections? That is where the driver honks his horn to let others know he's comin' through, never figured out what horn got you the right of way but there wasn't any stopping for cross traffic. The taxi ride is about an hour from Puerto Cortes to San Pedro Sula.
Arriving, there is a sense of entering another world. The pictures in your head of the Caribbean go away when you realize that every single business has an armed guard standing outside of it. There are lots of corners with men with sub machine guns. No they don't all appear to be army, they might be police they might be something else, who knows. Our taxi driver needs to stop for gas. He pulls into a station (it may have been a Texaco station, I don't remember). There seems to be an attendant for every pump, the driver tells the attendant how much gas he wants and they pump it for you. Watching over all of this is a guy patrolling the area with a shotgun at port arms. And here is the reason why:
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The driver seems to know where he's going and I"m happily thinking about meeting Paula, having a nice late lunch early dinner. The ferry had arrived at about 1:15, and after the money exchange and immigration we left Puerto Cortes about 2:00. Should have gotten me into San Pedro Sula about 3:00. It is probably about 3:30 when it becomes apparent the driver doesn't know where my hotel is. I feel fortunate in that the male of the couple I'm in the cab with speaks fluent Spanish and is able to translate the address of where I need to go. We drive around and around, stopping about four times to ask peopleon street corners if they know where the hotel is. It is not inspiring confidence that almost all look like they never heard of the hotel and have no clue about the address either.
I'm beginning to wonder if the universe is conspiring against me getting to my final destination for a week of fun and diving.
Finally the taxi driver pulls over and calls the hotel. They give him directions from where he says he is. He is repeating them outloud as they tell him. Off we go again, he gets to an intersection where the female of the couple says, I think you'r supposed to turn right here. Taxi driver turns left. Around and around for another 10 minutes, a couple stops to ask pedestrians and then call the hotel again. The hotel staff keeps trying to tell him that he is only two blocks away. Finally the driver listens to my female taxi buddy and turns right when she tells him to and voila there is the hotel. Funny, it doesn't look anything like the picture when I booked the room. My two friends from Australia have now spent a good extra hour to an hour and a half in the cab trying to get me to my hotel. I apologize and the guy laughs and says it's okay, the driver likely won't be able to find their hotel either. He says the driver is from Puerto Cortes and doesn't know his way around San Pedro Sula at all. That has become painfully obvious. In addition the driver speaks absolutely no english and I speak almost no Spanish.
The driver wrestles my huge bag out of the trunk and is more than happy to leave me there. I get into the hotel go to the desk and happily say, "hi, I have a reservation." The desk clerk is a lovely young man who speaks outstanding english. But he looks rather forlorn when he says, "did we speak to you this morning?" "No", I tell him, " but you may have talked to Paula, my friend who I'm sharing the room with". His frown becomes more pronounced and he says, "I was afraid you'd say that. You're at the wrong hotel."
Turns out the hotel has two properties, with the same name but in different parts of the city. After a short discussion he assures me he'll get me another cab to take me to the correct hotel and in addition gives me one of their brochures that has addresses and maps of both their locations so I can show the driver if necessary. After waiting about 15 minutes he is a little flustered that the taxi has not arrived and gotten this lost American out of his lobby. Finally the taxi gets there, and off we go again.
This driver seems much more certain of where he's going, well until we get where he thinks is close and he also pulls over and asks a pedestrian for further instruction. Honduras has not gotten the memo about GPS. Finally we arrive and Paula breathes a huge sigh of relief, having convinced herself I had been kidnapped by pirates or been murdered on my way to the hotel.
The desk clerks at this property do not speak any English and so it takes some time to pantomime what information they want me to provide on one of their check in forms. But finally we are in our room with air conditioning. We decide to head for dinner and head down to the front desk again. Luckily we get a staff member who speaks limited English and in answer to our question is very adamant we cannot walk anywhere to go eat, we must take a cab, it is far too dangerous to walk. They help us choose a restaurant once they realize we really don't want Applebees or TGIFridays and would prefer Honduran food, and they call a cab.
The taxi driver, a very nice young man, takes us to the restaurant and gives us his phone number and tells us to call or have the restaurant call about a half an hour before we're ready to leave and he'll come back and return us to our hotel. It works out very well.
Following morning, after breakfast provided by the hotel, we're back in a taxi on our way to the airport. We check in for our flight and wait for Sandra and Greg to arrive from Atlanta. Getting ready to head up to the security screening area and we are stopped and told we have to go over to the bank and pay our fees. We do and then it is on to a 12 seater plane for the 1/2 hour flight to Utila.
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| Our plane from San Pedro Sula to Utila |
Upon arriving on the island we collect our bags and find two taxis, which are basically three wheeled motorized rickshaws and we clamber in for the 10 minute ride to the hotel. There isn't a lot of cars on Utila but there are lots of bikes, scooters, pedestrians, golf carts, other taxis, and none of them feel the need to slow down for anyone else. If the vehicle, of whatever type, in front of you is not going fast enough then go around and honk plenty so the oncoming vehicle at least knows you're in their lane.
We arrrived at Pirate's Bay Inn Dive Resort Resort, David there checked us in and set us up for our diving. We got our rooms then met at the bar where we met staff, visitors, dive masters in training, and the lovely ladies who cook and work the bar. A very cold beer that only cost 30 lempiras ($1.50 USD) and we are settling in nicely.
Next Post: Utila; diving, underwater photography .... or not, house hunting, volunteering for Sea Shepherd and forgetting all about whatever happened on the mainland.
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