So for those of you not familiar with Murphy´s Law, it basically states that "Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong". This seemed to be the theme for the first bit of our vacation, the vacation that was going to be the time of our lives, all fun with no problems, right??? Oh, if only things were that easy.

I met Lyndi at the Miami International Airport around 1pm on Tuesday afternoon, so that we could check our bags in for our flight to La Ceiba, Honduras . As we approached the TACA Airlines counter with a year´s worth of anticipation and excitement about our trip, our ticket agent got a confused look on his face, wrinkled his eyebrows, as he looked over our travel reservations (that we had made 2 months in advance), and said "hold on one second, i´ll be back". As Lyndi and i waited at the counter....... for 25 minutes........watching, waiting, noticing our flight was fast approaching, we started to get worried. Are we even getting out of the country? We asked each other, as our ticket agent was no where to be found. Finally, after about a half-hour, he came back, apologized, and gave us our tickets. After sprinting to our plane, and flying for about 2 1/2 hours, we arrived at the airport of all airports, the San Pedro Sula Airport. 

Now i´ve been to small airports before. I´m pretty sure Lyndi has as well. But when we got off at the one gate to the one terminal structure that was to be our home for the next 5 hours (yes, we had a 5 hour layover), we were suprised, and full of wonder as to how we were going to occupy ourselves over the next quarter day . Luckily, there was a tv showing soccer, so I was set, and there were plenty of metal chairs for Lyndi to sleep on, so she was set, so as we watched the time tick slowly by on the clock, we slept, read, watched sports, and waited for the flight that would take us to la ceiba. 

We arrived in La Ceiba around 10:00pm, central time, only to find out that our bags, or as I like to put it, all of our worldly possessions for the next year, had not come on the tiny 2 prop plane from WWII that we had come on. As luck would have it, in an empty airport, we found not only a TACA airline worker, but an english speaking TACA airline worker, who was extremely helpful, and after a few phone calls, found out that our bags had come in on an earlier flight, and were just in the back. Once we got outside, apparently the taxi´s had called it quits for the day- not good when you are about 20 minutes from your destination, in a not so good part of La Ceiba, at night. We were warned not to stray too far from the airport, and get a taxi, but in our present situation, we didn´t really know what to do . Once again, we were able to witness true Honduran hospitality, as one of the Honduran police was getting off work, and offered to give us a ride (or "armed escort" as i like to refer to it) to our hotel, the Coco Pando, for the same price as a taxi. We graciously accepted. 

After being dropped off at the Coco Pando by our armed friend, we met Miguel, the owner of the hotel, who gave us our keys, and bid us goodnight. After an all day excursion to different airports, we decided to call it a night. Next morning, we were instructed by Miguel, that if we wanted to get into the city, which was about 15 minutes away, to just start walking down the dirt road of the little rural neighborhood we were in, until a taxi honked and picked us up. We grabbed a taxi into the heart, or "el centro" of La Ceiba for about 40 lempiras, or $2US. For the rest of the day, we exchanged money at the bank, watched a school marching band tromp through the city, dancing and playing, ate at a local cafeteria, and walked along the beach . Our final stop was at the local supermarket, where we picked up some food (and a bottle of rum for $4US) and headed back to the hotel. The Coco Pando is in a very small, rural town outside of La Ceiba- mostly small clay homes with either a dog, or a horse in the front yard. No, it´s not the nicest part of town, but the best feature about this neighborhood- is that it´s RIGHT on the beach. For the rest of that day (Wednesday), and half of Thursday, we sat on the beach, laid in hammocks and read, and sat in the upstairs bar on the patio, and drank beers and watched the waves come in. I know I started out calling this blog entry "murphy´s law", taking into consideration the ticket counter problem, the 5 hour layover in a sardine can of an airport, the lost luggage; but as it always does, everything all worked out, and Lyndi and I are having a blast on the small island of Utila, which Lyndi will tell you all about after we´ve been here a little longer.