Love and Hate: Tegucigalpa

Slowly but surely I am beginning to feel more and more love for Tegucigalpa, something I did not believe possible until...well my last visit. Its huge, the pollution is bad and the traffic is worse, everyone is honking and blasting sirens, its not safe, and taxis are dangerous to take alone, and there are people everywhere, tons of people. But, there are tons of people everywhere so instead of standing out…I blend in, hiding between the waves of people. I don’t get yelled at or harassed constantly, its not dusty, and unlike El Salvador (which has a pretty homogeneous population) Honduras has a truly cosmopolitan vibe with people resembling many different ancestries, and it’s beautiful.

I had to go to Tegucigalpa to extend my Visa because I will be here for longer than 90 days, and this was the first trip I had taken to Tegucigalpa with it being the destination rather than an annoyance while trying to get somewhere else. I took the bus from Juticalpa (~3 hours), buying my ticket from two guys who made me repeat L (L-eh) after spelling my name, roughly 12 times because it was “so beautiful”. I think I was extra nasally. When we got to Teguic. I got a taxi (rather than calling one of my trusted numbers) and managed to describe where I needed to go AND I got a cheaper price rather than (like usual) getting ripped off. Sandra and I decided that it would be best for me to head to the Office of Migration the next day rather than rush so I worked in the office until Sandra was done and we went back to the house she shares with a friend where she let me crash so I didn’t have to spend money on a hotel, and for which I was very grateful for. I headed to the Office of Migration the next day and spent an hour confused, walking from line to line, and getting cut at every possible opportunity( I might need to work on being more assertive) but eventually managed to get everything sorted out, so in three days I can go back to pick up my passport and should be able to stay in the country for the rest of my internship ☺

I found another taxi (which doesn’t seem like a lot, but is HUGE, because of how dangerous it is, because I (sometimes) still have trouble articulating where I need to go, and because I always pay a gringo price) which took me to my next destination, La Colonia Mega, the grocery store of all Honduran grocery stores, with one thing on my mind…Christmas. I have wanted to cook a ‘Christmas’ dinner for my family since I got here, so I decided that this Saturday would be the day and was very excited to pick up some supplies that are not available in the city I live in. I totally got caught up in the festivities with decorations everywhere and Christmas tunes playing over the intercom wandered around mindlessly and lost track of time, but I am pretty impressed with my haul and confident/happy to report that my Christmas dinner will be 98% complete (only missing perogies due to unavailability…I’m not sure how many Ukrainians there are in Honduras, haha).

I headed back to the office to check in with Sandra, and as I was zipping in and out of traffic dodging motobikes, pedestrians and other cars while talking with Juan Carlos (my newest taxi find) in a taxi that more resembled Fred Flinstones car (I could see the ground as we shimmied between tall buildings and narrow streets) than Cinderella’s carriage I realized—I felt like a princess.

Don’t get me wrong Tegucigalpa in no way parallels Camelot, and life here couldn’t be further from a Fairytale, but there was something special in the air that day. In Winnipeg I never take taxis, and in the rare occasion that I do, I am usually intoxicated and crammed in the back seat with 4 friends either singing off tune, or trying to come up with ‘insightful’ questions to ‘entertain’ the first poor sucker we managed flagged down to take us home in return for money, and here I was in Tegucigalpa, flitting in and out of traffic, up and down steep winding roads with the sun on my cheeks and the reggaton pumping, still in a post La Colonia Christmas high, and this, this was my Fairytale. Now where’s my night in shining armor? Hola me amor…..eerrrr no gracias. Which, because I am full of inner dialogue these days, made me think of the fairy tales (and the princesses) I used to admire when I was little…back in the day.

I remember going to see Mulan in the theaters for my friend Jordan Vincent’s tenth birthday, and at the end of the movie I stood up and clapped—a standing ovation—which could very well have been for the very reason that I was (and still am) a total goof, but I’d like to think it had something to do with the fact that instead of being a damsel in distress, she was totally a bad ass.

I mean, she was noble and brave and full of honour (she pretended to be a boy so her father would not be send to war), she was tough, determined, and perseverance (she worked her ass off to become as good as and even better than all of the boys in training), she was smart, witty and clever (she used her intelligence to outsmart the rest of the army, figured out how to use her brains rather than brawn to beat the bad guys, and her jokes were top notch), she knew what she wanted and she went for it, and she saved China a second time even after she was kicked out for being a women and all of her friends abandoned her and told her she was worthless. If that’s not an inspirational role model, then maybe I should call up Paris Hilton or something.

I also liked Belle (as in Belle from Beauty and the Beast). She was beautiful, loved to read, was friendly to everyone and knew that she needed to expect more from herself and for her life. She wasn’t a bimbo like the blond barmaids looking to marry the creepshow Gaston, who was quite possibly on steroids and couldn’t have had an IQ higher than a lampshade, and like Mulan she was noble and brave, taking her fathers place in the dungeon. She was patient and compassionate becoming friends with the beast even though he was a huge asshole at the beginning and was keeping her prisoner. She was caring and compassionate, teaching the beast how to be kind, patient, and caring, even though he was after all…a beast. And even though the Beast had to come and rescue here in the end because she was bad with directions and got attacked by wolves in the forest, she’s still up there in the spectrum of bad ass Disney princesses.

My day might not have met the criteria for a fairytale, but it was a magical day nonetheless and I’d like to think that slowly but surely I’m beginning to acquire some of the attributes that I so admired in some of my earliest idols…and I’m even becoming a little bit more bad ass…getting some street cred?

The more time I spend (especially on my own) in Tegicigalpa, the more confident I become (with my Spanish, with my ability to keep myself safe), and the more positive experiences I have, the more a little bit of my heart warms up to the Honduran capital. I’ve come a LONG way since my first night in Teguic. (when I refused to do wander out of sight of the hotel I was staying at) and dare I say…I am looking forward to my next visit and the adventure(s) that will accompany it.

With love,
Delaney C.