Our final day in Honduras arrived much to our chagrin. Per my Saturday tradition I slept in and relaxed, which for a trip to Honduras means sleeping until 8am. By 10:30 my parents were off buying my tio/a air conditioners for their home and EJ and I were in the cafe eating breakfast with Mariette and James. Well they had already eaten but kept us company. It was the same waitress that we had the last two mornings so she guessed our order before we even tried.
Well fed we ventured to the bakery around the corner. I had never left the hotel on my own without one of my uncles or my dad to accompany me and for good reason - San Pedro Sula is one of the most dangerous cities in the world. So when we decided to go on our own I made sure to keep both eyes open and use my best “leave me alone” face. If you’ve ever ridden a subway in New York City you’ll know the one. James thought I was crazy but I know it’s better to be careful then be sorry. We made it the 100 feet to the bakery without trouble. It is one of my favorite places to go when I am here. I think it’s because when I was little my dad brought me there and bought me a giant donut while telling me the story of how the bakery started and how it was so popular they have them all over the city. So on this occasion I picked out the giant donut for my brother, a sweet empanada and a cinnamon roll for myself. James also got a donut and Mariette the sweet empanada. Our bag of goodies in hand we made the perilous journey back to the safety of the hotel and sat by the pool to enjoy our bounty. I had never had the little sweet empanada before but I am sure glad I picked it out. The crust was crunchy and chewy and buttery with giant sugar crystals sprinkled on top. The filling was a sweet apple pie slash jelly and together they were amazing. As I was starting to tear into the cinnamon roll I suddenly saw my dad standing over my shoulder. They had returned from the shopping excursion quite a bit poorer but with arms full of snacks for us to bring home. Including lots of my favorite from the time I was six - Gorditos! They are the best cheez doodles ever created on this great earth.
With our snacks safely stored away in the hotel we headed off to our new adventure - shopping in the marketplace. We piled into the van and drove to another part of town where the artisanal marketplace was. We always go shopping here and it’s where we purchased all of the artwork and decorative pieces we collected and showcase in the house. I call it the classic mountains and some lady art. Almost everything has the same signature scene of some small homes, pretty mountains, a pink/red/blue sky, and some small person painted in all black ink with white clothing. It is the art of Honduras. The marketplace used to be very dark and densely populated but it’s had quite the upgrade since then. There are bright compact fluorescent lightbulbs everywhere, some of the stands took credit cards, everyone spoke English, and a number of stalls had been removed to make the eating area larger. My cousin Nestor said that he dated a girl there for a while and it was his favorite place to eat, which seemed to be a popular opinion based on the number of people crowding the food stands. They still had the rows of women making tortillas by hand though. It is fascinating to watch them make such quick work of the dough.
We started out slowly making our way from seller to seller. Each stand sells mostly the same stuff but each has their own signature item or type of good as well. We had never been to the market with so many people before and soon our mass of nine people split up into different groups. When I looked up from browsing the different machetes I noticed it was just me and my brother. I got a bit anxious being separated from the group but at least I was with my brother. We started a hybrid shopping slash looking for everyone else approach but came up empty. The next people we found were Mariette and James who were also doing the same thing. We got some gifts together at another stand then I realized that if we didn’t find the other group in our circle then they must be in the opposite corner. Sure enough they were and my mom had so many packages that Dad had to carry them for her. I couldn’t figure out how she managed to get so much and later found out she had all the interpreters in the family helping her out.
From the marketplace we went to the cigar shop. I remember going there ten years ago to pick up some gifts for my bosses who at the time were smokers and finding it to be a little hole in the wall with a very helpful old man. This time when we walked in the old man was gone and a middle aged woman was running the shop with her two college aged children. They also expanded the space significantly and sold their own branded artisanal Honduran chocolate. My mom and Mariette went straight for the chocolate along with Nestor while EJ, James, and I shopped cigars. They took so long looking at chocolate that I too headed to the back and immediately started getting fed samples, including one which was a homemade chocolate liqueur. It was amazing. I picked up a ton of chocolate bars for more gifts and some cigars to give as gifts as well. Now we all were a bit poorer and hopped up on chocolate heading back to the hotel.
We got back with a few minutes to spare before everyone headed off to the soccer game. James had spent all of his vacation planning on figuring out when he could go to a match while we were here. It also requires going with some body guards so Toño and Nestor had to accompany him which meant my dad and brother would go as well. I opted to skip it since I don’t find soccer games to be all that fun to begin with and would rather not risk getting pelted with tear gas or a stray battery or stream of urine as it’s thrown into the field. I stayed behind in the hotel with my mom and Mariette. It was great being able to relax and watch some YouTube and finish packing my things.
When everyone got back the plan was to go out to dinner. They all arrived back at the hotel and the three of us that stayed behind were eager to get some food. James and Nestor decided to eat huge steak plates of food at the game so they weren’t as eager. Then it began to pour rain as well. It took a few moments to get everyone rallied and ready to go but we finally got there when the rain briefly went from downpour to drizzle. Toño grabbed the car and brought it out front for us to jump in before we got too wet in the rain. Nestor helped us pick the restaurant which was near the hospital that he works in. He said the food was very good and, knowing how much he likes good food, I was more than willing to follow his lead.
We got to the restaurant just as the downpour started again. Some of the parking lot attendants met us with umbrellas to help us get to the front door unscathed. The restaurant itself was really cool. It was like a sports bar steak house that looked a little bit like a tree house. We had planned on just sitting on the ground floor but Tia didn’t want to sit near people drinking so we went upstairs where, unsurpringly, there were even more large groups drinking. We ended up sitting right next to one too which seemed to defeat the purpose of moving upstairs. The food was served family style and was churrasco (steak), chuleta (pork chop), chicken, baked potato, a giant bowl of refried beans, tortillas, and salsa. James and Nestor didn’t plan on eating since they just ate but ended up joining in on the food anyway because it looked (and tasted) so good. The steak was the best part in my opinion which made it extra disappointing when I noticed the spare steak from our side of the tables plate was eaten before I got to it. The chicken and pork was amazing too but I kind of regretted not just ordering a plate or just steak for me. Still I didn’t mind filling up on refried beans. We asked Nestor, who spent time in Mexico as a Mormon missionary, why they taste so much better then the Mexican ones we find at home. He said a lot of it has to do with the type of bean used - the one in Honduras food is much smaller then the one in Mexico. Later Tia shared her recipe to make them and it was basically just like how you make mashed potatoes except with beans.
After we ate we stayed at the table talking and joking around and sharing stories and especially talking about food. Then my uncle decided he wanted to say a few words about how happy he was to be able to see all of us again and some of us (my aunt Mariette and James) for the first time. After he spoke, and Nestor translated, Tia Mini spoke and then Nestor then my mom and so on until everyone at the table said something about the trip and how they loved everyone else. After that we went back to the regular conversation for a long while until Dad finally called it quits. The drive back to the hotel was still jovial and full of questions about everything you can think of. Another round of goodbyes and we were on our own again.
Mariette had been craving a banana split the whole day so we went to the cafe and ordered three. It was of course amazingly delicious. Back when I was six, on my first visit to Honduras, I had ordered a grilled cheese for lunch in the hotel cafe. When it arrived there was Russian dressing in the middle of it and I was so upset that my mom offered to get me whatever I wanted and so I said a banana split. To this day I have never eaten any ice cream dessert better then the one they make here. We all sat around enjoying our final Honduran dessert and when we finally left the cafe I thought I can’t believe that this trip is over already, that I’m leaving my other home. And that I’m so glad that I packed earlier.
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