And then I spent pretty much the rest of my Honduras vacation on the beach. Between beaches, I ate a lot of baleadas* and drank a lot of rum and coke by the $1.50 tumbler.
The End.
* Baleadas are tortillas filled with beans, cheese, and mantequilla, a horrible white sauce that most people like because they, unlike me, do not despise all sour cream/yogurt/cream cheese variations. I got the baleadas with just beans, because I adore beans and I do not adore the salty cheese in Honduras.
Oh, who am I kidding? That's not the end.
We spent a day dodging a big primary-colored bird, who came waddling over every time we opened anything plastic resembling, in his birdie little mind, a bag of chips. He was accompanied, kind of, by a postmodern pirate, who sat in a beach chair with his bushy beard and occasionally called out, "Chico!" to which the bird unfailingly failed to respond. Eventually I tried to pet said bird, and he bit me with his big yellow beak, and it hurt, a lot, and the postmodern pirate came and retrieved the bird and walked off with him.
When A. and I first got to that beach, there was a camera crew meandering about, and eventually it began to appear that they were filming, well, us. Gorgeous we may be, but the idea of being filmed by random guys on a beach in Honduras did not please us. I finally threw on A.'s long once-white skirt and marched over there. "Why are you filming us?" I asked.
"It is for tourism," the guy said, a little scared of me, "pero si no quiere..."
"No queremos," I said, and walked off again. He disappeared quite rapidly after that.
We snorkeled along the edge of a deep drop-off. It scares me a little, always, and yet it is so eerily beautiful down there in the blue. The predominant fish excitement that day was huge schools of round purple fish, bigger than my hand, with an occasional parrot fish thrown in. Whenever I scared myself looking into the deep, I popped my head back out of the water to see the other two bobbing snorkels across the top of the water, and the shore beyond them.
From the top, the sea looks so calm and innocuous. It's hard to reconcile that with the moving, changing, mysterious world underneath, and yet, it's so beautiful down there that I always want to ignore the sunburn on the backs of my legs and keep flippering about, forever.
The End.
* Baleadas are tortillas filled with beans, cheese, and mantequilla, a horrible white sauce that most people like because they, unlike me, do not despise all sour cream/yogurt/cream cheese variations. I got the baleadas with just beans, because I adore beans and I do not adore the salty cheese in Honduras.
Oh, who am I kidding? That's not the end.
We spent a day dodging a big primary-colored bird, who came waddling over every time we opened anything plastic resembling, in his birdie little mind, a bag of chips. He was accompanied, kind of, by a postmodern pirate, who sat in a beach chair with his bushy beard and occasionally called out, "Chico!" to which the bird unfailingly failed to respond. Eventually I tried to pet said bird, and he bit me with his big yellow beak, and it hurt, a lot, and the postmodern pirate came and retrieved the bird and walked off with him.
When A. and I first got to that beach, there was a camera crew meandering about, and eventually it began to appear that they were filming, well, us. Gorgeous we may be, but the idea of being filmed by random guys on a beach in Honduras did not please us. I finally threw on A.'s long once-white skirt and marched over there. "Why are you filming us?" I asked.
"It is for tourism," the guy said, a little scared of me, "pero si no quiere..."
"No queremos," I said, and walked off again. He disappeared quite rapidly after that.
We snorkeled along the edge of a deep drop-off. It scares me a little, always, and yet it is so eerily beautiful down there in the blue. The predominant fish excitement that day was huge schools of round purple fish, bigger than my hand, with an occasional parrot fish thrown in. Whenever I scared myself looking into the deep, I popped my head back out of the water to see the other two bobbing snorkels across the top of the water, and the shore beyond them.
From the top, the sea looks so calm and innocuous. It's hard to reconcile that with the moving, changing, mysterious world underneath, and yet, it's so beautiful down there that I always want to ignore the sunburn on the backs of my legs and keep flippering about, forever.
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