traveling in honduras.

This weekend we traveled eight hours in bus to Tela, a beach on Honduras’ north coast. I got pinkeye, and because of my allergy to penicillin, I had to buy drops that are prohibited in the United States because four out of every 1,000,000 that use them die from anemia or something (Thanks for the info, Uncle John.). I hope I don’t die.

Traveling is always an adventure. There’s no telling what will happen. Maybe smelly clowns will want to make you destroy half of your senses so as not to see, hear or smell them anymore. Maybe a handsome stranger will make eyes at you. Maybe the police will stop your bus and demand to see the birth certificates of all the males. Maybe the bus attendant will try to flirt with you. Maybe your bus will break down. Maybe you’ll nearly melt in the heat of the bus when you’re seated by an emergency exit without a window. Maybe you’ll nearly pee your pants. Maybe some lady’s huge butt will knock you in the head. Maybe all these things will happen to you in one trip.