La Ceiba, Honduras (from a bad hotel to whitewater rafting)
This is coming direct from a non-direct local bus to San Pedro Sula. The last 24 hours have been insane. This time yesterday we were on the Galaxy Wave ferry from Roatan to La Ceiba.
A spot called Hotel Italia had been the destination of choice. When I said I wanted a taxi to it, all I heard was "cerrado, cerrado." Some overly fast Spanish followed by a few nods and "si, si" preceded my being dropped off at Hotel Ejuctivo Diana... which should more aptly be known as a dump with a nice lobby.
Hotel Diana's pool... questionable.
Dump is a kind way to put it. More truthfully, the room was dingy, had questionable fluid drips on the wall, was lacking good lighting (telltale sign they are hiding something) and it had not even been cleaned yet. "Diez minutos," the woman clarified with some room cleaning hand motions. If my Spanish were better I would have told her how nothing that wretched gets made right in "diez minutos," but my Spanish is not so bueno and I had already paid. Instead I muttered, unconvincingly, "si."
As imagined, diez minutos weren't nearly enough. The bed was made and the floor was mopped. Cinnamon air freshener had been sprayed to the point of causing a reaction similar to being pepper sprayed. Still not trusting the cleanliness of the floors, I told Pat to put his bags on shelves and I did the same.
We're not in Kansas anymore, was all I could think. We had left the hotel and were sitting in a Pollolandia restaurant with plates of fried chicken and plantains in front of us. From the depiction, I had actually ordered grilled chicken with a salad and a few plantains. In Pollolandia, pictures lie.
On the left: Local clowns. On the right: Not grilled chicken. 
Roadside hideout in the rain
You know a room is bad when your whole being refuses to return to it. Instead we walked in the opposite direction towards nothingness. The grey looming sky unleashed a torrential rain so we had to make a break for cover. We discussed buying our own towels and tarps to cover the questionable sleeping areas. It was at this time that I realized I did not have to be sitting under cover at a tiny food stand in a rain storm. I could be in a fantastic room, gloriously laid out on my bed reading my book and catching glimpses of the rain through the window. "We need to call Pete, see if he has room for us, grab our bags and get the hell out of that shit hole," I said to Pat.
Pete is the owner of Hotel Estadio. Which is incredible and where people should stay in La Ceiba. Plus, Pete is a hardworking, really good guy. The kind of guy you want to see in these situations.
Funny array of images from Hotel Estadio
We asked for refunds from Hotel Shitlandia but were unapologetically denied. 350 Lempiras come to about 15 bucks. The cost of three good beers back home. I could swing it. We left for Estadio.
Pete not only had space for us but he also called to see if we wanted to go rafting with a trio of Irish guys. "Hell yeah!" Funny how things change. One minute I was trying to come up with a way to not contract an illness from a room, the next I was sitting in a bright yellow rally Jeep with five other people. We were headed up the Rio Cangrejal to do a day stretch through narrow, boulder laden waters. I'll let the photos speak for themselves, but I will say that our guides Santo and Dennis (two brothers) were top notch, fun, and made it clear that they loved their jobs. Dennis was our raft guide. He grew up in a village up river from the resort and still lives there, now with his own family. There is something endearing about a boat guide that goes through drops and hollers, "alright, arriba!"
We were transported back to Hotel Estadio the same way we left: two up front and four of us crammed in the back of the jeep, bumping around while getting rained on. Happily enough the rest of the night was tame.
Tips for La Ceiba:
1. Be pushy with the taxi drivers.
2. Don't say si just to be agreeable, you'll end up in a gross hotel.
3. If you're blonde, expect people to stare.
4. If everyone in your group is white, really expect people to stare.
5. Stay in Hotel Estadio and trust Pete's suggestions.
6. Eat at Parrillada.
7. Go rafting.
8. Don't go out at night alone.
9. Get the hell out. It's not a friendly place.
A spot called Hotel Italia had been the destination of choice. When I said I wanted a taxi to it, all I heard was "cerrado, cerrado." Some overly fast Spanish followed by a few nods and "si, si" preceded my being dropped off at Hotel Ejuctivo Diana... which should more aptly be known as a dump with a nice lobby.
Dump is a kind way to put it. More truthfully, the room was dingy, had questionable fluid drips on the wall, was lacking good lighting (telltale sign they are hiding something) and it had not even been cleaned yet. "Diez minutos," the woman clarified with some room cleaning hand motions. If my Spanish were better I would have told her how nothing that wretched gets made right in "diez minutos," but my Spanish is not so bueno and I had already paid. Instead I muttered, unconvincingly, "si."
As imagined, diez minutos weren't nearly enough. The bed was made and the floor was mopped. Cinnamon air freshener had been sprayed to the point of causing a reaction similar to being pepper sprayed. Still not trusting the cleanliness of the floors, I told Pat to put his bags on shelves and I did the same.
We're not in Kansas anymore, was all I could think. We had left the hotel and were sitting in a Pollolandia restaurant with plates of fried chicken and plantains in front of us. From the depiction, I had actually ordered grilled chicken with a salad and a few plantains. In Pollolandia, pictures lie.
You know a room is bad when your whole being refuses to return to it. Instead we walked in the opposite direction towards nothingness. The grey looming sky unleashed a torrential rain so we had to make a break for cover. We discussed buying our own towels and tarps to cover the questionable sleeping areas. It was at this time that I realized I did not have to be sitting under cover at a tiny food stand in a rain storm. I could be in a fantastic room, gloriously laid out on my bed reading my book and catching glimpses of the rain through the window. "We need to call Pete, see if he has room for us, grab our bags and get the hell out of that shit hole," I said to Pat.
Pete is the owner of Hotel Estadio. Which is incredible and where people should stay in La Ceiba. Plus, Pete is a hardworking, really good guy. The kind of guy you want to see in these situations.
We asked for refunds from Hotel Shitlandia but were unapologetically denied. 350 Lempiras come to about 15 bucks. The cost of three good beers back home. I could swing it. We left for Estadio.
Pete not only had space for us but he also called to see if we wanted to go rafting with a trio of Irish guys. "Hell yeah!" Funny how things change. One minute I was trying to come up with a way to not contract an illness from a room, the next I was sitting in a bright yellow rally Jeep with five other people. We were headed up the Rio Cangrejal to do a day stretch through narrow, boulder laden waters. I'll let the photos speak for themselves, but I will say that our guides Santo and Dennis (two brothers) were top notch, fun, and made it clear that they loved their jobs. Dennis was our raft guide. He grew up in a village up river from the resort and still lives there, now with his own family. There is something endearing about a boat guide that goes through drops and hollers, "alright, arriba!"
We were transported back to Hotel Estadio the same way we left: two up front and four of us crammed in the back of the jeep, bumping around while getting rained on. Happily enough the rest of the night was tame.
Tips for La Ceiba:
1. Be pushy with the taxi drivers.
2. Don't say si just to be agreeable, you'll end up in a gross hotel.
3. If you're blonde, expect people to stare.
4. If everyone in your group is white, really expect people to stare.
5. Stay in Hotel Estadio and trust Pete's suggestions.
6. Eat at Parrillada.
7. Go rafting.
8. Don't go out at night alone.
9. Get the hell out. It's not a friendly place.
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