¨We Will Say 'We Have Arrived!'¨¨

¨And who are you?¨
¨We are Rosencrantz and Guildenster.¨
¨Well, which is which?¨
--Tom Stoppard Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead
I would have to say that I am Rosencrantz, the know it all who knows nothing. But we HAVE arrived. La Ceiba is beautiful. Okay, La Ceiba is dirty, but nice in its own way. What was beautiful was the trip out here. Between the airport and San Pedro Sula there was just this lushness. Everything was overgrown and green. I thought nothing of the armed guards walking up and down the side of the highway... we have border patrol in San Diego that does the same thing at places, nor did I flinch at the horse-drawn carraige that my cab driver almost mauled, I see plenty of those in Tennessee when I go to visit my family. I was not afraid as I was carted through the filthy, crowded streets of San Pedro Sula towards el transporto Diana, but the thought did cross my mind that I had no idea where I was... nor would I have any idea where to go if this man just dumped me somewhere. My dad told me to trust noone, but there has to be some element, faith maybe, faith in the general kindness of human nature.
The bus ride from San Pedro Sula to La Ceiba was comfortable, Apparently, I was on the not-so-nice bus that only locals take (Thank you Lonely Planet), no a´c, but the wind in my face brought the smells of the land. The four hour trip was filled with sights of mostly green with patches of controlled fires burning along the road. There were groves of mango trees (never seen a mango tree before) and hills and mountains and houses of all shapes, sizes, and qualitites. The bus stopped every once in a while and let people off or picked people up, and every time there were these women and children selling mangos con chile or sodas or water through the bus windows. I can´t believe that I have failed thus far to mention that it was HOT this entire time. I am talking Texas in August, am I still breathing, holy hannah it is HOT. So it was of no surprise to me that every waterway we passed over was teeming with people just swimming (except the one that smelled like raw sewage-- that one had no people in it, but a GIANT Pepsi advertisement... yum).
After line after line waiting for my ticket, waiting for security, waiting for my flight, waiting for the bus... I landed in La Ceiba, and waited again. It seems that my sweet Guildenstern failed to discover that there are five bus stations at which I could have arrived in La Ceiba and, therefore, was not at the aforementioned rendezvous point. So after an hour or so of reading yoga magazines and telling every taxi driver within a three kilometer radius that, no, I do not need a taxi, I am waiting for my friend, I sucked it up and drove to the Cafe Iberia to check my e-mail. Et voila... Et maintenant, nous avons arriver.
Today we strolled through the markets and had a lovely lunch (not up in time for breakfast, sleep was niiiiiiiiiiicccccceeeee), and are on our way to check out the Spanish school and the butterfly museum. There may be rafting in the forseeable future, I will keep you posted. Until then, mi amigos, gracias por leer, y asta manana.

Rosencrantz (You can call me Rosie)

¨Wherever you go, go will all your heart.¨
--Confuscius