Our first ciudad in Honduras was Copán…where it must be said, I lost my shitenhausen. Between absolutely amazing Mayan ruins frequented by macaws – that magnificent parrot in all the colours of the best things in the world – horse riding to charming villages up steep hillsides on little-more-than-ponies with dashing cowboys called Walter and deliriously beautiful hot springs, Copán is a mesmorising wonder of beauty that is best left for a time when you don’t hear about a death back home or lose your gear and require a several hour round trip to collect. That said, it’s a beautiful locality with honest, lovely people.
Darwin, our local rep set us up with a walking tour of the Copán ruins with Cesar, our excellent guide. About 25 percent of the ruins are uncovered and have been described as the Paris of the Mayan world. Tikal is the New York by comparison, full of tall temples, like ancient sky scrapers. Copán’s charm lies in its decoration. Thousands of carved glyphs survive, along with sections of stucco, some paint remains on statues and the magnificent hieroglyphic staircase honouring seven of the 16 rulers with over 2000 carvings on the blocks is awe-inspiring.
And then there’s the macaws. As you enter the plaza a dozen or so red macaws perched in the trees screech and squawk while eating from the feeders and watching the tourists. The city used to be abundant in colonies of this gorgeous parrot as evidenced in the carvings, including the rings in the ball court fashioned into macaw heads. A program is underway to increase the numbers of breeding pairs from the current three to one day repopulate Copán ruins to its obvious former colourful, screeching glory.
To make things a little different, upon leaving the ruins, Anna, Andy, Jason, John, Peta and I were picked up on horseback…or rather, ponyback, by Reuben and Walter to enjoy a trek up the mountainside to visit a tiny local village to see weaving in action, look down on the ruins, try unsuccessfully to not but tusa dolls – I tried to just give them a tip but somehow ended up with three very brightly coloured dolls that appear to be created through a complicated form of corn husk origami. As we arrived back at the horses the pitiful cry of four tiny, perhaps week-old, puppies held us up as we took more photos of them with their eyes closed and piled on top of each other than we did of the village. Suckers for cute baby animals all of us.
Back down the mountainside and the herd, including my horse Gualiño, or as I renamed him, Mr Likes-to-Fight because he kept lunging at John’s horse if he tried overtaking, did an excellent job conveying us home, despite our initial misgivings at their short nuggety stature. They breed them hardy in Honduras.
Stocking up on drinks and jumping in the tour bus, or in the back of a ute for some of us lucky ones, we ventured off to the hot springs about 90 mins drive out of town, most of which is over gravel road with the obligatory ruts and gaps that make “back of a ute travel” so much fun you could just puke.
Several pools are fed by springs and nestled amongst cosy lush vegetation. We paddled between cool and hot water pools, smeared mineral mud over faces and crinkled our noses at the sulphurous smell hanging in the air. We had gone prepared and enjoyed several adult beverages in between climbing rocky steps and swanning about in bathers trying all the pools. As dusk darkened the already dim jungle, Darwin placed candles around the edges of pools and the overall effect was beautifully serene.
I had found out about a death back home earlier in the day and it was about this time in the candlelit quiet that I got an overwhelming urge to go home. I haven’t felt homesick before, nor since, and when we returned to the hotel and I found my bag was missing despite reassurances that someone else had collected it, I really lost my shite. I paid over $100 for a round trip back to the springs where I’m lucky to say my bag was found, intact. At least I didn’t have to ride in the back of a ute this time but I didn’t get back to town until after midnight. It wasn’t pretty, I’m not proud and I’ve learned to always check I’ve got my bag with me instead of trusting others. Live and learn huh?