Heard about some sort of "Craft Fair" down at the bridge close to the congressional building. Maybe there's something there that's worth buying.

Down at the congressional buildings things are happening. They've got the entire street from the congressional building to the Presidential Palace (The museum I visited earlier) blocked off. The street is lined with troops in dress uniforms. They look a lot like Marines: young, short, and with a vacant stare. (Not as vacant as Marines but you get the idea) They don't let anyone cross the street. Even little old ladies with children get blocked off and forced to go back. They have an interesting routine someone tries. The soldier directly opposite where the intruder enters the street will tap his rifle butt on the ground, take one big "goose step", then move in a normal pace to block their path with rife at the ready. He will point with gloved hand in a very polite manner that they should go back from whence they came. If the person tries to go around them then other soldiers will follow the same procedure and come to his aid. Sometimes it takes two or three of the guys to escort someone back off the street. Only once did someone really push their luck and get emphatic about crossing the street. Then one of the commandos in fatigues and the "COBRA" caps quietly moved up behind the guys in the pretty uniforms. End of discussion.

I'm not sure from which direction things will be coming so I try to position myself in the best position to see things from both directions.. Then, suddenly, the soldiers guarding the street start to march off away from the congressional building. It's over. Whatever was going to happen had already happened. I missed it. So did you.

There's a guy on the street with old coins. I decide to see if he has some one centavo coins to go with the rest of my collection. He has a couple plus a couple of two centavo pieces (Which I didn't even know existed). They are in such poor condition and are not really in current circulation that I decide that I don't really need them in my collection.

On to the "Craft fair". Over this bridge nothing, over that bridge nothing, over the other bridge nothing. It's possible I just didn't recognize it since there's always booths along both sides of the street and the bridges.

On the way back I see a clever way to keep flies off of watermelon. The vendors fill a plastic bag with water, suspend it by an elastic cord above the sliced watermelon and then set it swinging. Seems to work very well. (That reminds me of another little trick that they use over here that could improve life in the US of A: In the banks, each teller has a little bell. When they are finished with a client, they just ring the bell and the next person in line goes over to that teller. Much better than our credit union's system where the next person in line is usually brain dead and has to be revived with a cattle prod to go to the available teller) (More on my theory of why Hondurans are superior to Americans in the appendix)

I go to lunch at the Picadelli Cafeteria early. I know that they'll have a good special and I want to be there before the line and before they run out. The special is fillet de something scampi. My mouth waters. There's no line. I'm early. They don't have it. I don't know why. I have a good old traditional Honduran dish: lasagna. With some of the barley(?) stuff and zucchini with melon juice. Pretty good. (L23=$2.50)

I'm trying to manage my money. I'm not sure about the airport tomorrow. My ticket says I have already paid the exit/airport tax but I suspect I'll have to pay again. I don't want to wind up with too much of the local currency nor do I want to have to cash one of my travelers cheques.

Back to the parque centeral for a while and then back to the hotel. I decide I can't return from Honduras without some of the coffee liquor. My friends would make fun of me if I didn't return with some alcohol. (They're mostly recovering alcoholics - some not so recovered). So off to the pedestrian mall, there's a supermarket there that I know has a liquor section. They don't have it. They're out. They had it yesterday. They're out now. I buy some dark rum instead. Back to the hotel.

Money's getting a little low. I take my last $20 US and change it. (Actually, I have two one dollar bills left in US currency) This will be my last meal in Honduras and I want it to be nice. (Plus I want a cushion at the airport)

Where to eat? Where to eat? Where to eat? There's some really good looking tamales on the corner. They're in ziplock bags though. If I had a microwave or something I might go ahead and get them. If I had room in my bags I might try to import them. I guess I'll just have to pass this trip.

Off to "Al Natural". I could use some of their Papaya con leche and I'm sure their spaghetti is interesting. Well, perhaps so but their service is way too slow. I leave.

Wait, hold those horses, I remember a place from a few days ago. It had something in the window about "Pina Colada". Now there's a local custom/dish I'm sure I need to experience. I find the place without a problem. The first pina colada I have is the thing of memories. The second was only fair. I order spaghetti in something. I don't know what it is, I just know it's different from what I had at the Pizza Hut. The spaghetti comes. It looks considerably thinker than the spaghetti that I've seen before. It's great! The sauce has a lot of garlic in it and who knows what else. I order a beer. Eating slow, savoring the meal, garlic bread reminds me of Frenchies. Oops, what's that? My friend Denise walks by. I try to become invisible (Bulletproof is later) I apparently succeed. There is a God. The meal was L72 = $7.90 of which L40 was for the two Pina Coladas. I decide there's only one way to finish the meal.

Back at the espresso place I order a double espresso. Waddle over to the parque centeral to soak in the atmosphere.

I avoid "Charlys" on the way back - no reason to push my luck.

Back at the hotel I start talking to the guy from Canada. He's a lawyer with a small firm in Montreal (I think). He likes to travel but doesn't like to work. (Personal injury, etc.) He works a couple of years, saves up his money, and then travels for a couple of years. Not a bad plan.

Hope to get an early start to the airport tomorrow. Still not sure how I'm going to get there: taxi, bus, or walk.