Home Sweet Home

Our backpacks have been emptied and put away.   I've been doing laundry around the clock.  Our house looks as though some type of internal disaster has taken place.  Mouse has been working since we walked through the front door, just trying to get caught up.  I guess our vacation is officially over.

While a part of me wishes I were still traveling, and I'm not totally excited to get back to reality, it's not the end of the world, either.  When I'm on the road, I have fantasies about traveling forever and disappearing into oblivion. I could see myself traveling for months on end, hopping from city to city and country to country.  But when I finally get home, it always feels good to be back.  In it's own way, traveling always seems to remind me what I like most about my home.  I'm happy to be able to sleep in my own bed, watch Top Chef in my PJs, and cook in my own kitchen. (No matter how good the food is, eating out gets old after a while.)

Besides, life in Newport Beach isn't so bad.  The weather is mild.  We have the beach at our front door. We ride our beach cruisers around town, and soak up the sun while dining on outdoor patios.  It's a nice lifestyle.  (If it weren't for work and chores, living here could almost feel like a constant vacation.)  I'm lucky to be able to come home to such a pleasant environment.

So now it's time for me to get settled back in, focus, and tackle all of the projects I was putting off because of the holidays and our impending vacation.  First and foremost will be a full trip report and the posting of pictures.  (After I knock out three nights of work, that is.)

Mission Accomplished

There we were, perched on the back platform of the dive boat, snugly zipped into our wetsuits, with fins and snorkel gear in place.  The haze of the Honduran mainland was barely visible in the distance, as the deep blue ocean stretched out for miles around us in every direction.  The tension was palpable.  No one was talking; we were too busy focussing on the water's surface to engage in any sort of conversation.  Our eyes scanned the expansive sea for any hints of disturbance.  If you didn't know any better, the scene could have passed for a top-secret military drill.  (If you could overlook the fact that no one on board was actually fit enough to be in the military.)

And just when we had settled into a comfortable silence, the Captain and crew shattered it.  "GO! GO! GO!" they yelled.  "TO YOUR LEFT!"

Chaos ensued.  We fumbled with our snorkels.  Not wanting to miss our chance, we slid into the water anyway, adjusting the mouthpieces as we went.  Our faces plunged into the water, our eyes adjusting to the diminished light just below the surface.

And then... HOLY CRAP!  (Which is what I actually yelled through my mouthpiece, although no one could hear me.)  My heart skipped a beat.  Not only was there a thirty foot whale shark in front of me, but there was a thirty foot whale shark so close to me that I could see the gleam of his left eye and the pattern of his spots.  I could have reached out and touched him.  (Which I didn't, because you're not supposed to.)  It was breathtaking.  I was in awe.  This wasn't my first encounter with whale sharks, but to be in such close proximity was amazing.  We all treaded water around him, doing our best not to spook him.  Mouse even snagged a couple of great shots.  (Which I will upload as I get a couple of computer glitches taken care of.)

After a few minutes, he slowly and gracefully swam away, plunging deeper into the sea than we mere mortals will ever go.  It was an incredible beginning to our final day of diving in Utila.  Mission accomplished.

A Pox Upon Us

I am one itchy, scratchy girl right now. You should see me. I'm sure I look like someone afflicted with a weird skin disorder. And it's taking every last bit of self control to keep myself from digging into my flesh. The itching is driving me insane! Even my anti-itch cream isn't doing much good.

And it's not just me. It seriously looks as though a pox has come down upon all of us at the resort, with our exposed skin boasting a myriad of angry, itchy, red welts. We're quite the sight these days! It's nothing serious; just a case of some very persistent and sadistic sandflies. But they have really done a number on us, despite our prolific use of bug spray.

Still, I guess I should consider myself lucky. I hear this isn't even the buggy season. Apparently, it gets much worse once the weather warms up. And when the winds die down, it's a mosquito free-for-all. (Ugh!)

Don't feel too badly for me, though. I'm still living it up in paradise. This has truly been an incredible experience thus far. I guess a few bug bites are a small price to pay.

Another Day, Another Dive

I'm not sure if it's actually possible to smile with a dive regulator in your mouth, but if it is, that's exactly what I was doing this morning.

It's Day 3 of our dive vacation in Utila, Honduras, and we have had another great day of diving. Both Mouse and I are improving our technique by leaps and bounds, plus we're seeing some amazing reef along the way.

We were barely into our second dive of the day, having descended to a depth of fifty feet, when Mouse spotted a medium-sized sea turtle. He danced through the waters, slowing twisting and turning, blissfully unaware (or at least unconcerned) of our presence. He drifted about, eventually making his way to the reef wall, where he set about to have himself a little lunch of coral and sea plant. He munched away, while I hovered, transfixed with amusement. This was definitely an instance where I wish I had a good dive camera, because now my memory will have to suffice. Nevertheless, the experience left me giddy with excitement.

As seems to be the precedent here in Utopia Village, today is shaping up to be another great day.

Holy Whale Shark!

Thank heavens for modern medicine. After a couple doses of antibiotics and several Immodium, my intestinal woes are a thing of the past. So today I am free to frolic, without a care in the world. And today is all about the frolicking...

As seems to be the fashion here on the islands, we were up with the sun, bouncing across the water and toward the reef, hours before I would normally even lift my head from the pillow. But the sun was so brilliant and the ocean so turquoise that I happily ignored my exhaustion.

Before we even had time to settle into our boat ride, someone yelled, "Dolphins!" Sure enough, there they were, an entire pod headed directly for our boat, zipping in and out of the water so playfully. Luckily, I had already squeezed into my wetsuit, so I slipped on my flippers, secured my mask, and leapt into the water with them.

And just like that, I was swimming with the dolphins! And not some cheesy, commercialized, swimming pool version of doing so, either. I was really swimming with them; in their home turf! They zipped away as quickly as they had come upon us, but for a brief moment, I was right there with them.

But wait, this day just keeps getting better...

As soon as I got back on the boat, the Captain announced he had seen an ever-elusive whale shark up ahead, so we should all be prepared to get back in the water. He circled the boat, and instructed the first group to dive in. I hung back, thinking it was only fair to give the others a shot. Unfortunately for them, the whale shark got spooked by the movement and swam off. The Captain circled again, announcing that it was the next group's turn. I didn't have to be told twice, and immediately slipped into the water. And there he was - all thirty majestic feet of him, gracefully making his way through the deep blue sea. He didn't stick around for long, but I was able to get a really good view of him as he meandered back into the depths of the ocean.

I couldn't have hoped for a better morning. All of this before 9:00am! And we still have one more dive left today, so who knows what may be in store...

A Hiccup in Paradise

Uh oh. It's happening again. I'm coming down with the dreaded travel tummy. No matter what I do, or how careful I am, my bowels never fail to rebel at day seven. And it looks like this trip will not be the exception. No bueno.

Here I am, in Caribbean paradise, and I'm spending more time in the bathroom than on the beach. Yuck! So, I've started a course of antibiotics and am popping Immodium like candy, just hoping to get my body back on track. Because, let's be honest, paradise is much better appreciated in person.

Heaven on Roatan

For three days, we've been in paradise.

We left La Ceiba (a city of questionable safety) and landed in Roatan on Wednesday morning, where we met up with Mike of Camp Bay Beach Adventure Resort. From there, he took us to his laid-back, remote resort, overlooking the Caribbean Ocean, which is where we've been ever since.

We've spent our days relaxing, kayaking, snorkeling, and eating more coconut than I'd ever thought possible (thanks to Mouse's newfound hobby). It's been absolutely idealistic.

But, of course, this isn't the real Honduras. This is the Honduras designed for gringo travelers. It's perfect, and I'm loving every moment of it, but I also realize this isn't reality. (At least, from a natural-born Honduran's point of view.)

Real Honduras is poverty-stricken. Real Honduras is polluted, with garbage lining the streets. Real Honduras necessitates militia armed with automatic rifles to provide an acceptable level of safety. Real Honduras isn't for the average tourist.

That being said, I'm glad we traveled the mainland before coming to Roatan. I'm glad we were able to see the reality of Honduran life before being whisked away to Caribbean paradise. Despite the poverty, there is a beauty in their culture and their way of life. I'm glad I had the opportunity to see it and live it, even if only for a few days.

Tomorrow we're off to Utila, another secluded island. I've been told it's even more relaxed and granola than where we've been, so I'm excited.

Not-So-Calculated Risk

OK. I'll admit it. In hindsight, trusting my life to a bunch of Honduran teenagers, and their lax approach to safety, might have not been the smartest decision I've ever made. There I was, whizzing atop the rainforest canopy at top speed, the only things between me and complete catastrophe their harness and handiwork. Come to think of it, it really was a recipe for disaster. That being said, I would do it again in a heartbeat because it was so darned fun. Call me an adrenaline junky, but there is something to be said for careening through the forest like a howler monkey, with the wind in your hair and the forest floor so far below. It's no descent into a slot canyon, but it's still a rush. And, lets be honest, it's probably still safer than your average car ride here in Honduras, which is like playing chicken with the Grim Reaper at any given moment. I'll take my chances with the zip-lines any day of the week, thank you very much.

FYI - I wont be able to post any video or pics from this outing until we get back to the states, but I will be sure to get them up as soon as I can. In the meanwhile, I'm going to continue enjoying our brief break from reality.

Our Wild Honduran Taxi Ride

Today was one sopping wet adventure of a day.

As predicted by the travel guides, we left San Pedro Sula as quickly as humanly possible. The city just didn't sit well with us, so we caught a taxi to the bus station, and high-tailed it out of there as fast as we could. (Which isn't really that fast, thanks to the Honduran perception of time.) We landed in Tela, a small coastal town, which is where we've been for the past two days.

So today we took a day trip out to Punta Sal, a protected beach only a boat's ride from our shores. And that is where our wild ride began. The waters are notoriously rough, but today exceptionally so. We made it out there this morning without much ado, but as we played on the beach in this National Park, we saw the swells get bigger and bigger. And we took a beating coming back to the mainland. Our video footage is truly YouTube worthy. We got tossed and churned like no other boat ride I've ever been on. But we made it back safe and sound, albeit drenched, to the shores of Tela.

Tomorrow we're off to Le Ceiba and the adventure continues...

Honduras at Last

It's kind of funny. We flew all the way to San Pedro Sula, Honduras only to eat our first dinner at Uno Chicago Grill, listening to a band cover American rock. Sad, but true. The irony of it, though, is that this place is hopping, not with tourists either. Everyone here is local. We are, by far, the palest people in the restaurant. But, after very little sleep and 10+ hours flying, we are ready for a cold beer and some food. Tomorrow the real adventure begins.