Honduran Malady

Hola, mis amigos. Que tal? I was pretty damn sick of the Spanish language by the time my stay in Central America was up. No, that’s not fair to say; it’s wasn’t the language that frustrated me it was simply me not understanding a solid 85% of what was being said around me… and that is a generous estimate. Oh sure, I can speak Spanish just fine because although I don’t have a giant Spanish vocabulary, I know enough to play with words and phrases. For instance, instead of saying, “tomorrow,” I can say, “the day after today.” See, it’s easy. But with a limited vocabulary, understanding fast speech and conversations are a royal ass pain. It fucking sucks to be sitting in the middle of a room like a deaf mute… granted, the best looking deaf mute you’ve ever seen. But, I cannot complain; I saw a new country, a new culture, and cannot wait to go back… only after I’ve honed up on my Spanish skills, though.

There were many highlights, including a visit to some wicked Mayan ruins. While I was there, I must not have paid enough homage to the Mayan gods because two days later, I was praying to the porcelain god… if you know what I mean. It’s not like I am a stranger to puking my guts out and feeling like shit after a fabulous New Years Eve, but this was different. In a 24 hour span, I was awake for probably three hours… and most of that time was spent in the bathroom, hydrating my system, or receiving shots (my friend’s Dad and Mom are doctors).

I'm not sure what made me sick, I mean I eat everything in site, but I think it was the conch soup. You know, when I think about it statistically (as I do everything because I am a nerdy engineer), I’ve been quite lucky. I have traveled all over the world and this is the only time I’ve gotten food poisoning of any kind. Undoubtedly, though, this was the sickest I have ever been in my life... and I’m not exaggerating.