Today we landed in Honduras. Our port of call was Roatan, and we’d booked a trip on a catamaran to go snorkeling. But first, we enjoyed our usual buffet breakfast, which provides around a thousand calories to start our day. The bacon here is amazing, and each time I return to the buffet to load up more eggs, pancakes, or cinnamon rolls, I grab another few slices of pig.
There’s a group of three crew members who walk around the breakfast area delivering coffee and pastries. I guess if you’re too lazy to get your own muffin, you can sit and wait for them to come over. They sing songs together, all related to coffee and pastries. They’ve rewritten the words to a few well-known songs, like the Earth Wind and Fire classic September. Yes, imagine a song about doughnuts that sounds like September. Anyway, they’re a smashing hit– always garnering applause from whoever’s around– so of course we had to take a picture with them.
After our hearty breakfast, we disembarked and headed for the marina. It involved a ride through town in a small bus, whose driver navigated the narrow, crowded streets with a beautiful combination of skill and recklessness. The traffic was crushing, and there weren’t any stop lights, stop signs, or even road signs in general. You’d just merge when you felt brave enough, and other drivers would stop and grudgingly let you in, giving you a few inches of clearance and honking a few times to let you know they were irritated.
We made it to the marina, though, and boarded a sixty-foot catamaran. I’d call it more of a “party boat” because the captain– a huge dark muscled Honduran with a thick accent– would steer with a loose half-hearted grip on the wheel while blasting American party rock on the stereo. We listened to everything from Sweet Home Alabama to YMCA to Firework. We got some instruction about the snorkel equipment (nothing complicated) and jumped into the water. It wasn’t as warm as Harvest Caye yesterday, mainly because the skies were grey and stormy and threatened rain. Brandon and I headed out while Pepper and Kricket figured out how to jump off the ship.
There were big schools of fish rushing around, many within just a few feet of me.
As I followed another school, I headed over to a drop-off where the coral suddenly ended in a rock cliff that descended into the dark depths.
Beyond that, it was impossible to see what was below. Suddenly a mass of bubbles floated up, and a guy wearing scuba gear ascended from the deep. Pretty cool! I’m not particularly interested in scuba, but snorkeling was fun. We spent about an hour wandering the area, and then climbed back aboard the party boat.
The captain opened the bar, and there were free drinks for everyone. As songs like American Pie and Gangnam Style blasted, several of the passengers who’d had a bit more to drink than most were dancing on the deck. Well, staggering might be a better description. An hour later, as we returned to the marina, one had to be helped off the boat because he was so sloshed. Sigh.
That night we enjoyed another Caribbean sunset.
Looking for something to do other than a raunchy comedy show, we went up to the racetrack and inquired about the cars. It turned out the rules require close-toed shoes, and I was wearing sandals (of course). I went back to our room and donned my Keens, which are absolutely close-toed, but was told they weren’t good enough because they still had open air vents. Apparently the shoes have to be entirely closed, “for safety reasons”. So I wasn’t allowed to race the cars. Brandon, who had regular old tennies, took to the track.
It looks like he’s zipping past, but in fact he’s going at about the speed of a brisk jog. The cars were horribly slow. I can understand the concern about shoes… you’d hate to somehow run over your own foot at such a glacial speed! We cheered him on nonetheless– only he and one other guy were “racing” at the time. Every time the other guy came meandering past, we shouted for him as well. He seemed confused, but hey, no one else was cheering for him. After a few laps Brandon was directed back into the pit by a crewman. He took to the victors’ podium to celebrate his decisive victory in the two-man race.
Even though the racetrack turned out to be a bust, we had more fun playing games and chatting on deck in the cool evening air. We also decided to get some deviled eggs.