Charbroiled in Choluteca on

One of my goals for 2011 is to write more – different things, not just more words – and so in keeping with this I’m going to do some pieces for, a community for women travelers who also like to write. Most if not all of these will be from my backpacking adventures in Central America, starting with ‘Charbroiled in Choluteca‘ – an account of a most unpleasant night I spent in the hottest place in Honduras.

“In the Honduran border town of Choluteca, the time is almost midnight and the temperature is approximately a million trillion degrees. My friend and I lie on thin foam mattresses in a room that could be mistaken for a cave in a hotel that belongs in a horror movie – three low buildings around a courtyard decorated with discarded lawn furniture, rusty kitchen appliances and even an old car up on cinderblocks. It was dark when we arrived here, the last town before the border crossing into Nicaragua, and we took a taxi straight to the best looking option in our trusty Lonely Planet which – I quickly learned on this trip – isn’t illustrated for a reason. But as we handed the equivalent of $5 to the woman behind the reception counter while eyeing the gigantic picture of Jesus Christ that sat behind her, we consoled ourselves with two facts: it was cheap, and it was only for tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll continue on to beautiful Granada.”

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