Sara and I caught the ferry from Placiencia at 9:30 am. The Gods of travel must have been bored that day, and decided to play with we mere mortals. It began simply enough: the travel office didn't tell any of the operators we had bought online tickets. It took some convincing and an iPad, but eventually we worked it out easily. We were on our way for a fun filled boat adventure! Or so I thought.
After just a few minutes we stopped at Mango Creek for immigration (Belize has notably honest border guards) and to pick up a few passengers. All of the tourists left from Placiencia and all the Belizians/Hondurans left from Mango Creek. You would think this stop would only take 45 minutes. You would be wrong. You would assume the tourists would have more luggage. You would be wrong again. I watched them load a mountain of luggage that morning into places I didn't realize existed on a boat. It included a bicycle, and my personal favorite, a 32" television in a very large plastic Disney bag that featured Eore in a magenta color palette.
As piles of luggage kept coming into the boat, I met the celebrity of this trip. Sara and I would refer to her as Honduran Grandma. She was very concerned that her assorted boxes and bobbles would not be loaded into the boat, and stood in the middle of the aisle to get her things in through the window. This bothered the porter/ second mate, who asked her very nicely to sit down and let him handle the luggage. Honduran grandma gave zero fucks. They exchanged words, and eventually the porter gave up.
Around noon, we finally left the port. I thought at this point, I paid the travel gods all the tribute they would require that day. I should have known better when the second mate went around dispensing Dramamine. I was told the rest of the journey takes just under two hours. Not today, friends.
The sea was very, very rough. The boat tossed and turned. The Captain had to drive at half speed. Honduran Grandma clearly thought the boat was going down and took the necessary measures:
She was the only one in a life jacket.
In this photo you can also see a mother, her daughter to the right of her and a baby. Honduran grandma's daughter is in the middle and already suffering at this point. Shortly after this photo was taken, the boat ride gets much worse. The little girl furthest right in the photo starts puking. She pukes in the loudest, most violent manner you could possibly imagine. At the same time, she seemed to be surprised that vomit was issuing forth from her mouth, and paused briefly to look about with the expression of a confused puppy (head tilt and all). The second mate rushed to get her a bag, but the damage was done.
A chorus of pukes followed. Ever hear puking in hi-fi stereo? Sara and I have.
The mom in the photo tried to clean up her little girl and hold her baby simultaneously, the woman to her left (Honduran grandma's daughter) took the baby, but was in a bad way herself. Soon the baby was passed down the line to Honduran grandma. Since Honduran grandma gave zero fucks, she was also unaffected by rough seas. But soon, her daughter was barely staying conscious. As next in line, I took the baby. That is how I came to hold a Belizian baby for a few hours in international waters.
As the ride continued, there were maybe only 5% who didn't puke. The second mate did an admirable job dispensing bags and paper towels to folks. He was also attentive to the two women who lost consciousness.
We arrived in Puerto Cortes at 4:30. The plan had been to take a bus to San Pedro de La Sula, and hop a second bus to la Cieba that day. No possible way we would make our bus from San Pedro Sula to La Cieba. Since San Pedro Sula has the highest per capita murder rate of any city in the world, I had no interest in overnighting there and wasting a day of travel. So I negotiated a direct cab to la cieba. Smartest travel decision I have made on this trip.
A few hours later, the driver was stopped by police just outside of la cieba. He got a ticket rather than paying the police off. It bothered him deeply. We arrived in la cieba at 9:30. Our driver had no idea where anything was located, and had to stop two other cabbies for directions. We crashed in the city just because we couldn't imagine going any further that day.
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