In coffee country

Honduras now lies behind me, which I am not too sad about. I am happy happy to be in Nicaragua, and using the fastest internet that I´ve had in ages, even if the ´p´on my keyboard isnt working too well. You will forgive the spelling mistakes.

After the rain in La Ceiba, I got on another bus further along the coast to Trujillo. Here is where I will actually start being a better sort of travel writer instead of just a diary keeper, and tell you some things about Trujillo. It was one of the earliest Spanish settlements in Central America, founded in 1525. It has a spectacular location on a wide bay, with jungle covered mountains rising behind the town. Near Trujillo was where Columbus first set foot on the American mainland on his fourth voyage. Trujillo was used as a shipping port for gold and silver, and that means one thing... pirates.

So theres your history. The town itself is kind of OK, the backdrop of mountains and the sea certainly adds a little something special. I stayed out of town, at a place called Casa Kiwi. Owned and run by yes, a New Zealander, called Chaz of all things. It was ridiciously odd. There was Kiwiana on the walls, and chips on the menu, and a semi clean beach out the front. Casa Kiwi did me well for a few days; I made some half hearted attemts at day trips, visited the old fort (relatively unimpressive) and was going to go snorkelling but chickened out due to fear of scary sea creatures lurking in sea grass. I sat on the beach and watched the mountains at sunset, beams filtering through the clouds. And oh yes, I climbed a mountain. Yes, I did, although we didnt actually reach the top. But it was very hard and difficult and I am still sore, although I think I did it for my Mum.

So, Honduras. I had some thoughts about it catching the buses. I wasnt all that keen on the idea of it to start, and I remain unconvinced. I attribute this uninspiring nature to two things that Honduras lacks: civil war, and volcanoes. Both Guatemala and Nicaragua, and El Salvador, have these things in abundance, whereas Honduras has remained unscarred by revolution and violent earthly activity. perhaps civil war is good for the national character, although this is a thesis that I could find difficult to advance in academic circles. The closest thing to a war in Honduras seems to be going on between two cellphone providers, Claro (que tienes mas!) and Tigo. They have carved out their terrority on walls everywhere and will go into battle any day now.

So Im not sad to be out of Honduras. After the gruelling hike, I took a night bus to the caital, Tegucigalpa. Another reason not to trust Lonely planet: in everything they have to say about Teguc, they fail to mention it is an absolute hellhole. Every capital city in Central America seems to be rife with crime, and if they look anything like Teguc, are places to be avoided at all costs. Brown and dirty and full of poverty, climbing up the hills, full of traffic. Even the Coca Cola delivery truck had an armed guard with a gun; there were two outside the service station store. Literally could not get out of there fast enough.

Nicaragua, I like. I do. I expected to like it. I learnt yesterday that in Honduras, 45 out of a thousand are murdered; in Nicaragua, its 15 in a thousand. There isnt even a guard outside the ATM! Although that could actually be a mistake. So after bus after bus, we crossed the border at Las Manos, and starting traveling through Nicaraguan cowboy country. The landscape already seems volcanic, and dry and dusty, with feathery trees and moss growing on power lines. The bus played Kenny Rogers, and the afternoon sun shone through the dirty windows.

The buses in Central America, as well as being old and shuddery, are certainly set up for sound. Normally they play Latin pop as loud as possible. By the time I leave I will be able to sing along to a fair few songs. Every bus, and taxi as well, also comes equipped with messages to God. Dios Es Amor, or Dios Me Guia; often, however, the messages are more like disclaimers. One from yesterday: Solo Dios Sabe Si Volvere (only God knows if I will return, I think). This makes me feel slightly uneasy. Road accidents arent all up to fate, you know. I think dangerous driving accounts for a good part of it.

My sunburn is finally starting to fade. I failed to wear sunblock on a beach jaunt, because I didnt believe that anything other than New Zealand sun could burn me. This was a mistake. I have now invented a new kind of torture for backpackers: sunburnt shoulders.