It rains really heavily in Honduras, my old Guatemalan home-stay neighbour Kelly messaged me from Copan Ruinas a fortnight ago whilst I was still in Guatemala. Pah, I recall snorting with derision. It might be heavy rain for someone from Portland, Oregon - but it certainly won´t be heavy rain for someone from Glasgow, Scotland. Plus I always have my pac-a-mac in my rucksack if it starts to chuck it down, I remember thinking, before promptly thinking no more about it.
Today I found out that it does actually rain heavily in Honduras, and indeed much heavier than I ever remember it ever doing in Scotland. I first noticed the sky getting dark just after I left Sepultura archaeological ruins to walk the country road out to where I had seen a 75% Coke 25% Copan Ruinas signpost the previous day, whilst passing on my bus from San Salvador. That´s funny, I thought to myself as I looked down at my watch. It didn´t normally get dark until about 18:30 in Guatemala or El Salvador. It was only 16:00.
A few minutes later, the heavens opened. And I mean fully opened. Shall I keep going? I asked myself, as I threw my plastic macintosh over myself in a pitiful attempt to keep myself dry. Pitiful, because the rain was already coming in horizontally, vertically and pretty much every other degree angle in between. I kept going. I really wanted a photograph of that Coca Cola Copan Ruinas signpost, even if I did get a bit wet in the process.
By the time I got to the Coke sign and took my photo, my trainers were making a noise as I walked, the noise of water between my toes. My plastic pac-a-mac whipped in the wind, as rain-water streamed down the back of my neck, and large articulated lorries and buses sped past me at alarming speeds.
After I had taken my photo and started walking the 4km back down towards my hotel in Copan Ruinas, the rain had already started to form a fushing river flowing parallel to the side of the road. The irony of an empty plastic bottle of Coca Cola flowing past me towards Copan Ruinas was not lost on me.
A
Honduran good Samaritan in a 4X4 truck with tinted windows stopped
not long afterwards to see if I wanted a ride back into town. Unfortunately
for both him and me, he had greased back hair and a moustache and generally looked like one of
the Mexican drug gang members I have seen far too often in the news
since I started travelling, normally being paraded in a pair of handcuffs at a police
press conference as the latest arrested member that will shortly stand trial in the Mexican courts,
accused of killing rival gang members and stupid extranjeros caught out
in heavy rain.
-
'Ya estoy mojado.' I smiled and politely shook my head, not looking him
directly in the eyes in case he really was prone to violence and thought
I was trying to stare him out. I am already wet.
On the positive side, at least I got my photo.
