After spending the night at the hotel Las Cascadas, having a whimsical dream and early hearty breakfast, I have resumed my journey through Honduras, moving closer to my final destination of Copan Ruinas.
With my little Spanish, I was able to tell the taxi driver to take me to the local bus station that offers rides across the country. The taxi driver, a man with a thick build and a low voice, told me in broken English “Okay” and we continued our car ride. There were no seatbelts in the car and with the way people drive in the country, I was flying all over the back seat. We passed the city square that was full of iconic American enterprises such as Applebee’s, McDonlands, and Hilton. We passed the poorer parts of town, where half-dressed children run barefoot on the streets, chasing the passing flow of cars. When we arrived at the Hedman Alas bus station, I gave the thick taxi driver a tip of four dollars over the fare. He looked at me with a glow in his eyes, said “Gracias senor”, got in the car and left the parking lot, jumping in his seat like a little kid.
I got my ticket and proceeded to sit in the waiting are – sipping on my plastic bottle of water for it was hot- until my bus boarded. While trying to collect my mind on the road ahead and looking around, I hear “You speak English right?” coming from a side. A white woman in her early 50’s looked at me with a perplexed face. The wrinkles around her blue eyes formed into a pleasant portrait of ____________. “You are an American?” she asked me, to which I replied “Yes. And you are too?” All of a sudden the lady’s eyes lighted up and the wrinkles around her eyes took a different shape. “This is wonderful, she said. I’ve been looking for someone to talk to in days!” I smiled. I was overtaken by joy of seeing someone from home. At the moment we were united in being two strangers in a foreign land. In life moments like that bring people close together. We tend to stick together to survive. At this point our minor differences, about which we bicker non-stop back home, cease to be meaningful. She wanted to know if I was going to Guatemala, and whether I knew how to get there by commuting. I was going to Copan Honduras, which is a stop or two earlier than Guatemala. I told her I was sorry but I did not know anything about the bus changes since I was in the country for only a couple of days. She said okay and we began chatting, and one thing led to another, until she told me the story of her son.
Her son, whose name I will not identify due to woman’s request, has been an avid backpacker and a photographer all his life. Being currently 37, he has traveled the winding spine of the world, seen many cultures and met many people. The woman spoke proudly of her sons adventures. How we traversed India and traveled in Europe. “Everything seemed to have started when he was out of college and decided to go backpacking through Europe. After that he was never to be seen at home” she said with a smile. But not all of her son’s adventures were as successful. She told that that one time, while traveling on a missionary trip through Central America, he was assaulted and kidnapped by a group of local criminals. He was beaten, humiliated and held captive as a prisoner. His captives made numerous demands to his relatives, who had to contact the FBI. “But what would FBI do in this situation? What could they do?” she asked. Invade a country for one person? Sent a task team to rescue him? Everything seemed to be going against her and his odds. The woman told me through how much pain she had to go during this whole period. I can’t even imagine it. The situation escalated to the point where the abductors would have killed him if he did not find a way to comply with their demands. Then the woman smiled and looked at me. “He escaped” she said. “What?” I said “How”. She turned toward me “One night when their leader left, he was left only with the girl and the other guy who had to watch him. I don’t know how, being in the emaciated and exhausted state that he was, he managed to fall back from a chair, tie loose, and engage in a fight with his captors. He told me “Ma. I fought with all my strength. My life dependent on it” and think about it. The adrenaline must have saved him.” “So what happened next?” I asked. “He, again somehow, ran outside, screamed in the face of the traffic and got rescued” “Oh my God. I bet he is done backpacking now” I said. “No.” she answered curtly and with least effort. “What do you mean no? After that how would he be able to go?” the woman looked at me and said “He loves people, he loves what he does. He said, he would not be able to do anything else. This was his life”
