Inauguration of a President...

On Monday, Honduras held the inauguration of its newest president.  Here, the president can be elected to one 4-year term – no reelection to a second term.  And, just like in the US, pre-election campaigning can get pretty dicey, with accusations thrown about from all the parties.

And that, my friends, is about as political as this post is going to be!

I just want to share some of my thoughts and observances of the inauguration ceremony I watched on TV.

Suddenly the screen switched to static.  It was different than when the cable loses signal, and I’ve come to recognize the static as meaning that the government is blacking out all channels except official government channels.  I switched over to Channel 5 and found that it was broadcasting the inauguration of the new president: Juan Orlando Hernandez (often referred to as JOH).

When I switched channels, it was just in time to see the opening prayers.  The first was by a Catholic Monseñor.  His prayer was very regal and I understood every word of it.  The next prayer was by an evangelical pastor.  His prayer was much more emotionally charged.  I also understood all of that prayer.

Then they started the festivities by having a parade inside the national stadium in Tegucigalpa. First up, a school marching band. That definitely got my attention.  Their uniforms were crisp and their marching pretty good.  They had a great “street beat” going and soon started to play Sopa de Caracol.  Well, I actually love that song because the first time I heard it was on Costa a Costa 2013.  Check it out for yourself.  Try this one  or maybe this one.

As the band left the parade area they had another great street beat going.  For those who weren’t band geeks (we used a different name when I was in band, but that word is no longer allowed), a street beat is music just the percussion section plays, which keeps everyone marching in rhythm.  

After the band, we were treated to Los Indios Bonitos (good-looking Indians).  I’m translating it that way, because saying “pretty Indians” for the boys just doesn’t translate well.  But I digress.

Los Indios Bonitos were dressed, or, really, half-dressed, as traditional Lenca Indians.  The boys were dressed in loin cloths, holding bows and arrows, traditional face paint, and barefooted.  They all saluted the president-elect as they passed the reviewing stand.

Following Los Indios, a young girl, about 8 years old or so, dressed in traditional folklore garb presented the president-elect with a plaque and a short, impassioned speech.  But then, she grabbed everyone’s attention by beginning to sing to JOH.  And sing she did!  A capella and with more gusto and expression than singers much older than she.  At one point, JOH reached into his pocket, removed a hankie and wiped his eyes – both of them.  He was visibly touched, as was his wife.  The young girl reached out for JOH’s hand while she was singing to him.  He gave her his hand and used his other hand to reach for his hankie again.  It truly was a sight to behold.

When it was time for JOH to take the oath of office, he placed his hand on the Bible as he made his pledge.  Then  speeches, more speeches,  military band, and then a ‘victory lap’ around the stadium.  By this time, I was bored so I wasn’t paying much attention.  But the vehicle that JOH rode in for his victory lap caught my eye.  It was a greatly modified jeep with an open-air platform.  At first I was comparing it to the Popemobile, but with no bulletproof glass and such, it was really more like the swamp buggies that they use in FL during hunting season to retrieve downed birds.

One of the things that really struck me through the whole inauguration was how accessible the president was to the people, how much interaction he had with people.  That would have never flown in the United States.

And that, my friends, is the inauguration through the eyes of this gringa.

Costa a Costa -- Recap

Now that I'm looking at Costa a Costa in my rear view mirror, I thought I'd share some thoughts on it.

My total mileage for the week was 294 miles.  I probably rode in a vehicle for another 60 miles.  Maybe more, maybe less.  It’s hard to know exactly.

A group shot in El Progreso on Day 2

Costa a Costa is a different kind of bicycle tour than those of us who do tours in the States are used to.  The purpose of Costa a Costa is to promote Transformemos Honduras and the work they are doing to change the nation – especially the education system.  At each day’s event, several top public school students were recognized and awarded with multiple prizes, including scholarships and bicycles.  So the goal each morning is to get on the bike and ride to the end town and get ready for the event.

SAGs (rest stops) are roving:  the buses move along with the group.  When the last person in a certain group is through, the bus continues on and gets ready for more people.  There is always plenty of vehicle support on the road.  The police ride along with us, on motorcycles and in a police truck.  A vehicle is always behind the last riders.  No exceptions.  Those are all things that are very different than what we’re used to in the States.

Because of the nature of the tour, there are no opportunities to stop and swim as you pass the lake (THE lake – we only have one), or jump into a stream to cool off – if the water is even clean enough.  You can stop at a roadside pulpería or restaurant and grab a quick drink, but only if you’re fast and not near the end of the group.  But there’s no lingering around to have a meal or such.

There’s also no opportunity to stop and take in tourist attractions.  Sure, you can grab a quick photo, but you can’t, for instance, stop and visit Las Cuevas de Taulabe (the caves of Taulabe).  Those are the kinds of things I’ve become accustomed to with tours stateside.  The purpose of the tour is not to stop and gawk.

On the other hand, Costa a Costa provides a bus ride to the beginning city (and back to Tegucigalpa at the end).  All three meals a day are included.  The fun and fellowship are outstanding!  Everyone blends together and you’re as likely to hear an impromptu English lesson as you are to hear an impromptu Spanish lesson.  No one lets language be a barrier.

A group shot in Comayagua on Day 5

This year, the initial group was right around 80 riders. There were almost 40 North Americans participating, including the 7 of us who live here.  The rest were from Michigan, New Jersey, Indiana, one guy from Idaho, and Canada.  The three guys from Indiana have been riding their bikes since Paraguay, on their way back to the States, heard about the tour, and decided to join us.  That was cool.  We also had a guy from Holland, who lives in Tegucigalpa.

Mario and his sons are from El Salvador, and Peter lives in Spain.   So, yes, we had quite the international presence.

Just like on trips in the States, the people you meet are fantastic.  It was awesome to reacquaint with people I met last year and deepen those friendships.  And, of course, meeting new people is always a blast.

On our final day, riding from Tegucigalpa to San Lorenzo, we had over 100 cyclists, as people from Tegus joined us.  During the week, we had people who could only ride a few days.  We had probably double the number of riders than last year, with many of them being new Honduran participants.  And that’s the idea:  get more Hondurans out there and riding.

The final group shot in San Lorenzo on Day 7

Dealing with the traffic is not for the faint of heart.  If you’ve read along, you’ve read some of my encounters.  Sadly, those are common occurrences.  Just today, I was passed by a truck with about one foot of clearance.  The strange part is that the truck had an entire lane to his left that he could have used, but chose not to.  Thankfully, his speed was a lot lower than what I experienced on Costa a Costa.

Still, even with the traffic and other concerns, I’m already looking forward to next year.  It’s hard not to be attracted to an event such as this.

¡Costa a Costa 2015, ya vengo!

Day 7 -- Tegucigalpa to San Lorenzo

38  miles.

I woke up to the amazing aroma of fresh-baked bread.  You can’t beat fresh bread for breakfast!

Then on to the bus.  We were all meeting at the Texaco on the edge of Tegucigalpa, on the way to San Lorenzo.  The plan was for the racers to leave from the Texaco, and the rest of us to drive a bit more to the top of the 12km hill.

As we were getting toward the top of the mountain, I saw something I’d never seen in Honduras before: windmills.  Honest-to-goodness windmills – the kind used to harness energy.  Stepping off the bus, it was obvious that it was a wind farm.  Not as big as the ones in western Kansas, but a wind farm.  In Honduras.  I later found out that it is the largest wind farm in Central America.  Pretty cool, indeed!

Who knew?  A wind farm in Honduras.  Not the best picture, but you get the idea.

OK, with our bikes off the truck and given the once over, it was time to get going.  All the climbing that the racers did?  We’d start out at the top of the mountain and have about 7 miles of downhill before beginning a little bit of rolling hills.  The day had lots of downhill as we descended to San Lorenzo and sea level.  The expected high in San Lorenzo was supposed to be 97°.

Starting out on our descent, I just wasn’t as psyched as I should have been.  I mean, it’s great to go downhill right away, isn’t it?  Except that this was very unfamiliar road to me.  Unfamiliar twists and turns, with all-too-familiar Honduran driving habits.  So, I had the bike reigned it pretty tightly, rarely getting about 30 or 35mph.  I could actually feel the temperature rising as the bike descended.

The road eventually flattened out and then began taking a few ups and downs as we continued on.  The scenery changed quite substantially; it was becoming quite dry and desert-like in this part of the country. I pedaled on.  And on.

Finally, I said, “Enough.”  I was done.  My head just wasn’t in it.  My near miss with a semi the day before had wreaked havoc on me.  So I climbed off the bike and waited.  It was kind of a Forrest Gump moment.  I only had to wait a minute or two before a pickup truck pulled over to see what was going on.  It was Mario, from Guatemala.  I told him I was done riding for the day and we put my bike in the back and I got in the cab.  

I had met Mario’s two sons the year before on the tour and it was nice to get to spend some time talking with Mario.  He’s a pastor in Guatemala, so we had a lot of things we could talk about.  It was a very enjoyable time.  Plus, I got to really use my Spanish.

We got to the finish line of the day and I got my bike down.  Then we waited for more of the riders to come in.  It was warm so I walked to a nearby pulpería and bought a bottle of Coca Cola. There was a bit of a party atmosphere at the end.  Someone handed me some watermelon, which I gladly accepted.

Enjoying watermelon at the end of the ride

 After a while, we made our way over to the hotel where lunch was being served.  We were offered a choice of two meals: sopa de mariscos (seafood soup) or pescado frito (fried, whole fish).  I had heard about the sopa at this place and there was no doubt in my mind that was what I was ordering.  I was not disappointed.  Not at all.  It was absolutely incredible!  Even just the fish stock was packed with flavor.

Awesome sopa de mariscos

With lunch finished, we headed to the park for the day’s event.  By this time, it seemed like most people just wanted to get on the buses and head back to Tegucigalpa.  Before long, we were doing just that.

It had been an awesome week.  One filled with fun and frustration.  Good times and bad.  But, thankfully, the good GREATLY outweighed the bad.

In the words of Arnold:  “I’ll be back.”

Day 6 -- Comayagua to Tegucigalpa

44 miles

When I had left the park the day before, I talked to JoAnn and we planned on having the furiosos leave at 6:30am since there was a lot of climbing on the day.  I got up at 5:30, with no problem to get ready and have my bag outside in an hour.

JoAnn called me at 5:50am, to let me know that there would be THREE separate leaving times that morning: the very slow furiosos were leaving at 6:00, the furiosos at 7:00 and the racers at 8:00.  I would have preferred to leave with the 6:00am group but just didn’t have enough time to get ready, so I was in with the 7:00am group. 

I waited outside Enlaces, in front of Pizza Hut with my bike and my bag.  The 7:00 group was coming up, and Don Esteban saw me.  He pulled over and told me to put my bag in his car, which was following right behind this little peloton.  So I did.

I joined the group, looking around, sizing it up.  Oops, I was definitely in the wrong group – lots of really strong riders here – and no doubt should have left earlier, but it was all water under the bridge at this point.

We were all riding together, leaving Comayagua.  Many were commenting about the crummy road we were on.  Actually, this stretch of road would be some of our worst all week.  We had about two or three miles of dodging pot holes then we hit the bypass to the main highway – and the beautifully paved road.  

Entering the highway, outside of Comayagua

 Once on the highway, though, the pace picked up and the group mostly fell apart. I soldiered on.  We quickly passed the base, Soto Cano Airforce Base, and kept going.  Before long, though, we hit Los Mangos and then Flores, where the road is once again crappy.  Actually, maybe it did get worse than the road in Comayagua.

It did for me, anyway.  I was riding with Michael, from New Jersey, and we had been talking for a bit but had to single up for this stretch of road.  The road narrows, is rough and pothole-laden, and has no shoulder – just a drop off to gravel.  One minute I’m riding, the next I’m being passed, with SIX INCHES of clearance, by a semi.

SIX INCHES.  That’s all that separated me from certain death.  The semi was traveling at high speed and it happened so fast there was nothing for me to do, nowhere to go, but hunker down for the usual ‘backdraft’  a truck causes, hoping it wouldn’t suck me sideways.  Once that was over and my heart started beating again, I could think about my next course of action: get off the bike!!

The racers leaving Comayagua

I was pretty badly shaken up by that truck. Yes, I’ve had other trucks pass me at pretty much the same speed – but never with only 6 inches of clearance.  So much for a 3 feet law, right?  Anyway, as soon as I could find a way to do it, I unclipped and pulled over and off the bike.  Thankfully, there was a pickup truck with the group that was following not too far behind and within a few minutes I was in the passenger’s seat and my bike was in the back.

After a bit of riding in the truck, the road had changed back to the “good highway” – well paved, and lots of good shoulder.  My pulse had returned to normal and I was ready to venture on some more.  We stopped the truck and I and my bike got out and started riding again.

Of course, at this point, the road was pointing upward – and would be for many miles.  Low and slow.  Low and slow.  That’s about the only way to climb the mountains.  I stopped occasionally, just for a minute or so, but it was always enough to refresh me.  And then back to it.

At some point, I reached one of the support buses.  I grabbed a little Gatorade and then asked if there was room on the bus for my bike.  There was.  And just like that, my day was mostly over.  I got on the bus and we started going.  Before long, I realized that I had stopped not too far from the top of the last big climb.  It was mostly downhill after that.  Silly me.

The bus stopped at the finish line for the day, right at the big cemetery on the outskirts of Tegucigalpa.  I got out, got my bike out, and we all waited for everyone to finish.  It took a while.  Yeah, maybe I should have just gutted it out.

After the whole group arrived, we still had plenty of time before we had to be at the park for the day’s event, so it was decided that we’d all go to the Mall for a while.  We rode as a group, of course.  Here’s the part where I was definitely calling “no joy”.  It’s all downhill from there and we had to ride our brakes pretty much the whole way.  Before long, my hands were numb.  I mean, really numb.  More numb than they've ever been on the bike. So were so many other people’s.  There was no way around it.  It was the first time I’ve considered disc brakes for a road bike – but the conversion would be cost prohibitive.

We began the final descent into Tegucigalpa

We were at the mall for a while, so I decided to get some ice cream.  It was my first one of the whole trip.  Last year, I had ice cream almost every day, but last year it was hot.  This year, not so much.

After the mall, it was another short ride to the park, escorted the whole way.  The event was well attended and we even had a surprise guest:  the US Ambassador to Honduras.  I’ve met her before and I really like her.  It was cool that she and her husband took time out of their busy schedule to stop by.

At night, I stayed with Kurt and JoAnn at their house.