Honduras 08: Archives

CHRISTINE BEDENIS writes:
One thing that I find very important to who I am and who I've become in my short 19.75 years of life is the amount of time that I have spent in foreign countries. In 2002 I spent three weeks in England, France, Italy, and Greece. I was fortunate enough to travel to Europe again in 2004 and to set foot in France, Germany, Switzerland, and Spain. From going on cruises with my family I also got to spend time in the Bahamas, Haiti, Grand Cayman, Jamaica, and Mexico. Not to mention that growing up in Metro Detroit, Michigan, trips to Canada were frequent. In the fall of 2006 I decided to delay my attendance to an institute of higher education for a semester and I spent three months in Fiji, New Zealand, and Australia.

After these experiences, I find that it is safe to say that I no longer fret over what to pack and what not to pack. I had invested in a large internal-frame backpack when I discovered how much I enjoy camping and roughing it, and living out of that while in the South Pacific makes the idea of a 10-day trip to Honduras seem like a luxury as far as the number of clothes that I can bring.

And when I look at the list of things to bring and I go through my stuff, I realize that I may be more prepared than I think. I have a number of items that are great for travel (like quick-dry underwear and pants that zip off into shorts). I've had some experience when it comes to kayaking, white-water rafting, and hiking here in the U.S.

However, when I go over each point that I've made and each experience that I've had, and as prepared as I think I am, I begin to realize how I am really not ready for this. I think I am because I am so burnt out at work; but really, traveling is just as draining, if not more so. But I am always up for a decent adventure. Especially beyond the walls of Macy's on State Street.

CHRISTINE BEDENIS writes:
I used to think that I was pretty good at keep track of things. Sure, on the occasional overnight to a friend's house I would leave something, like my mittens, but the important things, I always know exactly where they are. I thought this of myself until I lost my passport just over a year ago.

Not exactly my favorite experience while in New Zealand. A trip to the U.S. Embassy certainly cannot compare to caving by candlelight. But one thing that I did gain from the experience is, well, the experience of losing your passport in a foreign country, with no address to have it sent to and a plane ticket out that is set for less than a week. Now I know what one needs to do in order to get an emergency replacement, which includes a police report, new pictures, and a trip to your friendly neighborhood U.S. Embassy. I'm still kicking myself for such a crucial mistake, because on top of losing my passport, I didn't bring any extra pictures, like I have on every other international excursion, to make the process that much speedier. That was a time that knowing the centimeter-to-inch conversion came in handy (2.54 cm = 1 in).

However, at the same time I still get a kick out of my emergency passport, because it looked like a complete fake. It was a normal U.S. passport booklet, but rather than having my photo printed on the page and overlaid with those nifty holograms, the picture that I got at the one-hour place was basically laminated into place with all of my information typed on by a typewriter. How embarrassing it was to present that thing at customs, it would never go through when it was swiped and it always made me seem like a security risk.

I just got my replacement for my emergency passport. It has a special message for anyone who is lucky enough to hold it that reads "This is a replacement for a lost passport." A reminder for the next 10 years of how irresponsible I was and to keep track of my belongings.

I only hope that no one else has tried to leave New Zealand as Christine Bedenis.

CHRISTINE BEDENIS writes:
When I was in New Zealand I stayed on Quail Island for a week, and the guy that was in charge of our volunteer project showed us this hidden little plastic box that was stowed underneath some rocks. Inside the box were a couple of small token items, some coins, and piece of paper. On the paper it had the exact latitude and longitude of where the box was hidden and it explained why it was there. This box was a part of what is known as Geocaching, basically a worldwide scavenger hunt.

If you visit the home site for geocaching you can get a list of all the hidden geocaches in the world, with some possibly right in your hometown. Or you can place a box, and register it on the site for other travelers and fun seekers to find.

With the impending trip to Honduras and thoughts of story ideas to pitch to publications, I remembered how exciting it was to find that little box, with a tiny army man and some foreign coins. And I thought, I wonder if I can find one while I'm down there. What a story that would be.

CHRISTINE BEDENIS writes:
I've always been a really good last-minute packer. When I went to Louisiana for spring break last year, I remember I packed about an hour before I left for the airport. True, I did buy some things at Wal-Mart but I didn't really need them, I would have been fine with what I brought.

Tonight, I went through the list and checked everything off that I was planning on bringing. Then I came to toiletries, not on the list, but personal hygiene is a good thing. And this was the item that gave me the most difficulty; yet it isn't because of the TSA guidelines, because I knew I was going to check my bag (one quart-size bag was not going to hold all of my liquids/gels).

You see, I work for a company called Lush. I sell fresh, handmade vegetarian soap, skin care, and hair care and it is safe to say that my bathroom could very well be a corner of the store. We have an online forum—community if you will—of people who are all addicted to our products, and I'll admit that I am one of them. I have four options of morning shower gel/jelly/wash and four choices for a nighttime gel/soap. I have three different kinds of facial cleanser that I keep in rotation and for the past week I have been using a mask that is required to be refrigerated. I have three kinds of shampoo and two kinds of face moisturizers, not to mention four hand and body cremes and a foot lotion. Oh, and two different deodorants. Plus a number of items that aren't in my daily rotation.

Choosing the essentials of my stash to travel with was the most difficult part of my packing. I settled on a set of items that are of my all-time favorite scent, a cherry-blossom/mimosa/light floral. I know they will suffice, and keep me happy. I'm just imagining the morning that I am in desperate need of my mint and fennel shower jelly though, and praying that it won't come in the next 10 days.

CHRISTINE BEDENIS writes:
The flight out of Miami to San Pedro Sula was delayed. Just over an hour, so really it was a good thing. I was able to eat and chit chat with the others about sports, and who we thought would win the Giants/Cowboys game that was on.

The woman at the counter announced that everyone was going to be allowed one carry-on bag and that if we desired, we could check the second one. I thought to myself, "It's a good thing that I checked my big backpack in the first place, because I would have had to check it now anyway."

I didn't get to sleep the whole flight, the drink cart hit my arm and I was awake for the rest of the flight. You see, because of the cabin being pressurized, I always fall asleep from just before take off to just after landing. I really like that, but I'm sure my row-mates are less than thrilled.

Luckily I made it through customs, in spite of not knowing where I was going to be staying, and I made my way over to baggage carousel number one. I watched duffel bags and large rolling suitcases push their way through the plastic-covered hole in the wall that separated us from the people unloading the bags. Two Gateway desktop computers also made it through. After watching all of the bags glide past me, some a couple of times, I began to wonder when my backpack would appear.

The conveyor ground to a stop, without producing my bag. I have no idea where it is, but more than likely it is in Miami. All I know is that I am here in Honduras, and it is not with me. But easy go, easy come. I'm honestly not all that worried about my bag, I still have the important things. Like my passport.

CHRISTINE BEDENIS writes:
I had forgotten the feeling of switchback roads while crammed in a van with 11 other people. Today, I was thrown back into that world rather unwillingly.

We continued our travel today with a nearly four-hour ride from San Pedro Sula to Copan Ruinas, but not before we were presented with San Pedro Sula's welcome video and barraged with photos. The local press corps was out at Hotel Maya Copan in full force this morning to document our journey of documentation.

First thing to do tomorrow: buy a copy of La Prensa to read about ourselves.

With an adios to San Pedro Sula and un viaje to Copan Ruinas, I really began to see the way that people really live. It is rare to see a shanty with a concrete slab. Generally they have a dirt floor and corrugated plastic or weathered wood for walls. Rows of shacks are lined up along the main road with livestock grazing on the little grass that grows on the shoulder. Faces peer out at the travelers that zip past these homes, and I can only wonder at what things look like from there.

The animals appear to be emaciated, but more than likely they are healthy eating a non-American diet. Dogs roam around the streets without tags and without names, looking for some kinship and a bit to eat. But it is not the animals' stories that I am interested in. I want to know what stories the wrinkled and tanned face on the street corner has to tell, and how her life compares to mine.

Walking the cobblestoned streets is a welcome relief as a mode of transportation and adventure. We'll see what tomorrow brings.