MEGAN FERRINGER writes:
You haven’t truly seen Honduras unless some form of motion sickness has been developed along the way. True enough, only the greatest destinations can be reached by pothole-ridden dirt roads that forever wind and turn, or nauseating ferry rides across the turbulent sea.
Beginning my own six-hour voyage from Copan Ruinas to La Ceiba, I took on such a trek optimistically. Focusing on the pristine scenery of green mountainsides rushing past my window, I’m abruptly forced to the left side of the van as the driver maniacally takes on the curving mountain roads with no fear of the 100-foot drop dangerously awaiting the slightest of errors. Suddenly, the next five hours and 45 minutes to La Ceiba became more of a glass-half-empty sort of deal, as I realized the driver had some sort of inferiority complex that was expressed in miles-per-hour.
About three hundred swerved potholes and two pills of Dramamine later, the green sign welcoming me to La Ceiba shone like a beacon of hope, signaling the end of my excruciating journey. But as the van neared the mountains outlining the city, breathtaking scenery of palm trees and pineapple fields made me realize just why I had taken on this six-hour journey in the first place. Motion sickness is never enjoyable, but in the case of exploring the jungles up the mountainside, the occasional episodes of vomit just may be worth it.
Megan Ferringer is an undergraduate journalism student.