A Thanksgiving to remember
We woke up rather early, and I worked on the blog while Nathan worked out on the dock. He’s so weird.
When he came back to our room from his exercise escapades, we fixed breakfast, ate quickly and brought our coffee up to the deck. We relaxed and drank our coffee in the sunshine, reading and trying to trouble shoot this silly blog. I can’t explain why, if it’s the internet or IP address, but I have been struggling with it most righteously. Consider yourself so special that I’m putting in this effort for you! 😉
While I was fighting with my tablet, phone, blog and internet combo, Paul, our hotelier, came to talk to me. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m ridiculous for spending my time this way. He asked me if we were drinkers (not sure what he was implying about my blog) and said there’s a Honduran law that the whole country goes dry, with NO booze sales, from Saturday morning to Monday night. For the election. Because they don’t want drunk people voting.
What!? Now, if any country had such a ridiculous law, you’d think it would be ours. I can honestly say, I’ve never even worried about drunk people voting before.
Certainly, they’d still serve the tourists cocktails and beers at restaurants. No, they shouldn’t, but if someone does it on the sly it will be expensive. Great.
The plans we had for Thanksgiving were to dive at 1:30, pick up a loaf of multigrain bread from the bakery in the afternoon, and have a homemade dinner with Rosa in the communal kitchen. Now, since diving takes about an hour and a half, and the bakery closes at 3, it’s plainly obvious that we double booked ourselves. Whoops.
First thing this morning, I went to Sandy Buns Facebook page, and saw that they posted that they were closed on Thanksgiving and I figured we miscommunicated and we were off the hook for that errand, at least for today.
I should take a moment to explain today’s title. Yesterday, Rosa took my too-big swim bottoms so she could take in the sides. When she came back with it fixed today, she proclaimed that she had my panty. Again, have yourself a childish chuckle.
So, when our coffee was done, we gathered our books and swim stuff and headed to the palapa, me in my newly repaired suit. We enjoyed several hours relaxing and reading, sunbathing, paddleboarding and snorkeling. At noon we had our sandwiches, and this was about the time I WhatsApp’d the bakery to ask about our bread, given what I assumed was a miscommunication.
No miscommunication. The shop is closed, but ‘the girls’ are still there making bread. Our bread is ready, and could we be there in 15 minutes, because they are ready to leave?
Crap. So I ran up to our room, found Nathan (making coffee, duh), communicated our dilemma, grabbed a bag, swim skirt, water shoes, a confounded 500 Lempira bank note, and took off running.
I ran all the way to West End, hustling over the rocks, and running on the sandy stretches. I figure I broke two rules. Never go to West End alone being rule #1. The second being don’t do stupid shit that could get you hurt. I’m less concerned about going to West End alone, but between my surgeon, physical therapist and I, I’m pretty sure all three of us would have decided my hustle over the rocks was foolish and potentially dangerous. Mea culpa.
I got to the bakery, received our bread, and wouldn’t you know, they had no change for my stupid 500 Lempira bill. Remember, it’s the equivalent of $20. So, the girl gave me back my money, with the understanding that we’ll come back and pay later.
I ran back to Turtle Beach, quickly got changed, and walked to the dive shop huffing and puffing the whole way.
Today, Denzel had a student doing a refresher course and another guy with our group. It’s been 15 or so years since Rafa last dove, and thankfully he did not need to hold Denzel’s hand. I did briefly at the beginning and then again at the end when the current was getting to me.
We saw some huge channel clinging crabs, a Lionfish, the little crab that puts coral on its body for camouflage, and huge groupers and snappers.
Once done with the dive, we went back to Turtle Beach, showered, and went up to the communal kitchen to enjoy coffee and fight with the blog. At 4, Rosa arrived to start cooking our dinner, and when it started to rain, Rafa and Jodi brought their cocktails and joined us. Rafa, who’s originally from Colombia, and Jodi are from Raleigh, and all five of us chatted travel, cooking, and life experiences.
When our food was ready, Rosa sat down and enjoyed her delicious creation with us. We had stewed chicken made with coconut milk, coconut rice and red beans, and fried plantains. Depending on where you are in Latin America they are called either tostones or patacones, and I think Rosa had another name for them too. Whatever you call them, fried plantains are so good. Rafa made steaks for him and Jodi, and we all had a very nice Thanksgiving indeed.
