Copan, Honduras Travel Report, June 2008

Tired of all of the “hustle and bustle” of life in the States, two friends and I decided to trade our familiar surroundings for those of Honduras – a country neither of us had been to before. This was only my second trip to Central America, but I’m sure it won’t be my last! Although I had been to Panama and Costa Rica, as well as Guatemala for a short period, Honduras definitely had a vibe that was rather unique. I would even venture to say that it was somehow less “tame” than most areas I had been to in the other Central American countries. I know that some of you may be thinking that what is tame to me may seem less tame to you, or vice versa – and you’re absolutely correct! We all view our experiences differently, and our past experiences in life also play a large role in how we perceive our current surroundings. So, as a disclaimer, any and all experiences in any given country will be different for each of us.

After a long bus drive through the mountains to the border of Guatemala and Honduras, we arrive in a city just northwest of the border crossing. Chiquimula, Guatemala is a small city with plenty of self-proclaimed taxi drivers ready and willing to take you into Honduras for a nominal fee. Upon departing the bus, we are immediately surrounded by a dozen or so men vying for our attention (and Quetzals, or the Honduran currency, Lempira). None of these men were speaking English, except for the numerous expletives that were aimed at us for not choosing their services. For 200 Quetzals (appr. 25 USD), our taxi driver drove us over an hour to the border crossing. We had been advised by our guide books that the crossing would be closed after 1800 hours. As a pleasant surprise, this was not the case. Arriving around 1930, we were met by police from both sides of the border.

After a cursory check of our passports, we were back on the road and soon arrived in Copan. There are a few guest houses in this quiet, quaint little town, and our choice was Don Moises, accross from the more touristy Via Via. This decision turned out to be very rewarding. For about $5 USD we had a comfortable room with a fan and a private bathroom and shower. This is considered luxury in some of the areas I had been to in other countries! Apparently, Don Moises is scheduled to complete some renovations including a rooftop bar and a barbecue pit around December of 2008. Before turning in for the night, we treated ourselves to a full meal and a couple Salva Vida beers at a local establishment. The meal was quite reasonable; chicken, rice, and beans for a mere $3 USD.

Upon waking in the morning, I was greeted by a kind woman, who runs the guest house, along with her husband. She was cooking traditional fried plantains and brewing some stiff coffee which she offered free of charge. We exchanged a few sentences in her language (I am not very fluent in Spanish), and she offered me a small stool outside on the street. ‘People-watching’ seemed to be a hobby in this town, and I was all too willing to follow suit! Aside from a few construction projects and some loud vehicles, Copan was mostly quiet all morning. At about 1300, one of my travel companions and I hired two obviously underfed horses and a guide to take us across the Rio de Copan and up into the mountains. Hector did not have a grasp on any English, so he proceeded to explain our surroundings in Spanish.

This type of language immersion actually helped us to adjust to the local dialect pretty quickly. We ascended into  the mountains slowly, with the help of our guide, who was lightly smacking the flanks of our exhausted horses with a small leather strap. I wouldn’t call myself a horseman, but I have more experience with horses than most, and I have to admit that I didn’t have much confidence in our steeds’ endurance in these conditions! Sharp drop-offs, mud, and a steady incline all made it more difficult for our rides, but definitely added a bit of incentive to reach our destination.  Hector had thus far not found the need to reveal our ultimate destination. About an hour or so into our jaunt in the mountains, the trail leveled off and we found ourselves riding into what seemed to be a small village of mud structures. Hector explained that this was the village of La Pintada, inhabited by Chorti Maya. Upon entering the village center, I noticed that all of the males (armed with machetes) were staring at the two gringos that had just broken the silence of their daily routines. With amazing speed, all of the village women disappeared into the buildings. Hector gestured for us to ride into an open field and we all hopped off and tied our horses to a makeshift wire fence.

Immediately upon taking notice of my sore bum, I heard a raucous behind me. My buddy was being overtaken by the village children, who were aggressively attempting to sell him various homemade wares. I advised the children that I really didn’t have very much money and that my friend might be the best person to speak to on business matters! He gave way to the pressure and bought a small flower made of reeds. This caused a domino effect of violence from the other children, who clearly thought that they deserved the money more than the young girl holding the lempiras. I laughed as my companion expressed his concern and guilt over the incident. I could tell that these children had seen foreigners a few times in the past and clearly related them to money. Hector motioned for us to follow him into the forest, where he took us through some winding paths to a stone structure. He explained that this structure was some sort of old Mayan sacrificial altar, where a baby had been literally sacrificed once it had come out of the mother’s womb! As I said, my Spanish is limited, but we confirmed this story with the local Mayan descendants. We stayed in the area and took a few photos. A building on the south side of the village stuck out like a sore thumb, as it was lavishly painted and constructed (compared to the other structures). Hector took us inside and introduced us to two elderly women that were making cloth with a wooden loom. The coloring and sewing of the cloth was all done with natural means. For a few lempiras, I purchased a small scarf from the women. About fifteen minutes later, we departed the village, with not a single wave from the inhabitants. We may not have effected their lives much during our stop, but the visit had gotten us both thinking about our own lives and our own ‘problems’ back home. We descended through the mountains and traveled across the Rio de Copan, and returned to the city of Copan. The horseback riding trip ended up being one of my most memorable experiences in this part of Honduras.

Later that night, we all had a chance to recount our experiences of the day, and partake in the local ‘nightlife’. We were told that Papa Chango, the Blue Light bar, and Via Via were the most frequented spots by ‘touristas’. The smell of pot and stale beer were pretty typical at Papa Chango, and fellow travelers were few and far between at any bar or eatery this time of year. I personally would suggest a stop at Red Frog, where Dan will be happy to make you one of his infamous Uterus shots. They may not look too appealing, but they get the job done! Just ask a local how to get there and go exploring! One can obtain a grasp of the majority of the town and streets after a couple of days on foot or in a Tuk-Tuk.

The next day brought yet another new and interesting experience for us. Copan is most known for its extensive and beautiful Mayan ruins. The lush, green forest surrounding the ruins really helped one to imagine how this city would have been in the days of their descendants. What struck me most about the ruins of Copan was how much and how well they had been preserved. With barely a single fence or sign restricting movement amongst the massive ruins, it crossed my mind that once ‘civilization’ and tourism really took hold in this community, no one would be able to see these ruins as we did at that time. Although Copan is known by some as a tourist destination, it was obvious to me that it still had a very special atmosphere that didn’t quite yet give way to tourism. And for this I was grateful, as it made our visit so much more rewarding.

We eventually moved on from Copan, but the experience remains one of my favorites in Honduras, and definitely one of the most memorable times I’ve had in Central America as a whole.

This article was submitted by a contributing member. More photos from this trip can be found here!

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Copan, Honduras Travel Report, June 2008, 4.3 out of 5 based on 4 ratings