a bus trip

We boarded a bus to honduras this morning. A tad intimidating to have your bags searched and go thru a metal detector before you can actually get on. Then off the 6 hour trip to copan. The one thing I will never understand about Latin America is why there are so many paint and tire stores along the roads into and out of towns. The repair shops I understand: these are very poor countries but does everybody really paint things all the time?

off through winding highways that go through village after village of impoverished mayans.

The children and families working or sitting at the roadside wave as they get nasty warning or more often cheerful hello honks from the driver.

Shortly before the border to honduras we are met with an onslaught of probably well over a thousand motorcycles doing some rally up the winding mountain roads.  Not only a show it had the added benefit of forcing our driver to actually slow down instead of showing his usual disregard of the many signs stating: velociDade maximum 40.

Many of the motorcyclists wore face paint of strange skulls and added feathered adornments to the helmets. Not sure if it was a Mad Max inspiration or Mayan gods. Perhaps both.

When we finally cleared the rally our driver resumed the suicidal driving driving style by which he liked to accelerate into the blind hairpin curves.

That must have made it more fun.

into copan a relaxed Mayan town with virtually no turistas.  Mountainous like guatemala the way to get around is by blasting up and down the sheer cobblestone hills by tuK tuks: these nifty open air three wheelers that rule the town.

best signs e spied today: mini-disco bombastic: a small music shop complete with tiny disco ball hanging outside while traditional campensino men stood outside dressed in cowboy boots and their sandino fedoras.

Next just outside of copan: sign advertising for Dr. Jesus Nuevos Chinchilla.