This is a chain of bakeries throughout Honduras. Very good pastry. Poor Coffee.

Off to Espresso Americano. It's a little early for me. Around 8:00 AM. This time I finally remember to get some pastry A ham and cheese croissant and a cinnamon roll type thing. I'm proud of myself. When I get to the coffee shop Ned's already there. He's a little depressed. Their espresso machine is broken. I'm despondent. Then he explains, they can't make steam so they can't make cappuccino. I investigate further. It seems that they can make espresso. I tell Ned "Tough" and walk inside smiling.

He wants to go somewhere named Santa Lucia. It's a little village just off the road to Valle de Angeles. I want to sit here and watch women. We compromise and head over to the bus terminal around 9:30.

The taxi driver claims to know where the Hospital de San Felipe so we hop in. (Ned has a nasty habit of not coming to an agreement with the Taxi driver. He just jumps in, tells the driver where he wants to go, and settles up after we get there. So far we've never been taken acknowledge of - to my knowledge) At least the driver starts out in the correct direction. He doesn't take the route that I would have taken but then I'm not a professional driver either. Fortunately we know where the hospital is because we drives right past it and keeps going. We wait for him to turn around at an intersection. Nope. Perhaps at a traffic circle? Nope. Ned and I leap into action. Ned attempting to use what Spanish he knows while I point and look agitated. Anyway, he turns around and drops us off in front of the hospital. (close to the cholera signs)

It's a short ride this time. L2 for a one way. (That's about 20¢) After getting dropped off at the highway we decide to walk to the village. It's only about 2.6 Km. It's a nice walk. Sunny, cool weather and postcard views around every turn. What the hell is this - a French restaurant? We vow to return and try it later.

There are a lot of old houses/huts here. A reasonable number of new houses as well as a lot of new home construction. The construction here is pretty much small operators - building houses one-by-one. I believe (from some ads I've seen in the papers) that there are some housing development type operations outside of Tegus but not up here.

We make our own tour of the town. It's a pretty place with cobblestone streets winding up and down the side of a hill. We find city hall, the main church, the city park with petting zoo (Well, there's a goat tied up to a shed) We follow a dirt road up a little hill that kinda overlooks the village. I stumble around in the little hill - it seems that it's more or less fill dirt and broken pieces of concrete. We discuss broken legs and the consequences thereof.

We continue around the village, passing by a local cantina. No cold beer. No cold

I guess Hungarians can live in Honduras if they want to.

anything. We move on. Well, what's this? It's some place (Parrilia Cafe Miluska) that looks like it might have a beer. Kind of a covered pavilion. Nice looking place. I suppose it's some kind of Hungarian place - the menu has goulash, wiener schnitzel as well as the typical selection. Slightly more expensive than I would like but then it does seem to be a little touristy. There are some real-estate ads posted on the wall. In English, Spanish and what I assume is Hungarian.

The waitress comes over. Light brown hair and two of the most beautiful light blue eyes I've seen in a long time. She seems to speak no English. I order a beer despite the fact that here it's L9.5. In Tegus they're L7 and elsewhere in town there're 5.5. (Of course elsewhere in town they either don't exist or are warm). They even have a tip jar here, confirming my suspicion of a touristy place.

We both try the carne asada plate. Rice, refried beans, meat, piece of cheese, and kind of a salsa-type salad. The salad was the best of it's kind that I've had here in Honduras.

Back up the hill some kids with buckets pass us. They're running and giggling as all kids do. It seems that the town water well is ahead of is. It's just a concrete looking thing. I assumed it would either be a horse-trough or a well with a bucket and rope. There seems to be water enough for all as well as enough to splash on each other.

The view from the plaza made me resolve to buy a camera with panoramic capability next time.

We continue the circuit of the town. The church and city hall form a plaza-like area with a panoramic view of the valley. I find several places that would make great bar/restaurants. Have to file this place away for future use.

On the way back to the highway we come upon a couple of guys trying to control a bull. They have him on the end of a rope and aren't having much luck. The bull disappears up a side street/trail with them chasing along. A little further along we come to a large house behind large gates. It looks as if it should either be a high class restaurant or hotel. We walk through the gates and up the sidewalk, expecting to be stopped by the doorman or someone else. Perhaps we can ask for information at the front desk inside. Well, the place is pretty much empty - not even much furniture. We find a brochure that indicates that the place "Casa Blanca" is available for weddings, receptions etc. Sorta like a smaller of the mansion down here (Clear Lake City) that was once the Lunar and Planetary Institute.

Next there's this loudspeaker truck blaring some sort of political propaganda against imperialist yanqui pigs. I’m a little concerned about a rebellion starting and here we are out in the hills. Ned explains that it's the local grocery store on wheels selling bread, butter, etc. Makes me think about back when I lived on the farm outside of Buna. There we had a woman who came around every Thursday in a truck. She had shelves built into the back of the truck and it was just like a little "Stop-n-Go". Except that it actually did.

Here comes a little kid. Probably another beggar. Didn't expect to encounter them out in this area but then the whole country is poor. He hands me a flower and walks away.

We return to the French restaurant. Yep, they're from France. Been here about 6 years.

It's a little outdoors place with tables under palm trees and a view of the valley. I have a beer and, dare I say it, strawberry crepes. Ahhh, that's what I like - traveling to third world countries and roughing it.

Then the bus ride back into Tegus. Breathtaking views all along the way. I fell asleep while sitting up.

We walk back from the terminal. I need to confirm my reservations for Monday and Ned, impressed by my thoroughness, decides to confirm his for tomorrow. We spot the Taca Airlines symbol on a sign at a travel agency. Perhaps someone there speaks English. I'm told that I need to be at the airport at 5:30 AM for my 7:30 AM flight. T make a face. Attempting to placate me she says "Well, 6:00 AM would be O.K."

Back on the road again. I change money at a "Casa de Cambrio". (We're on the same street as the American embassy again so there's a lot of touristy stuff in the area). Ned wants to know if I want to take a taxi from here since we've completed our business. I explain that I'm thirsty again and I think that there's this Texaco just up the road that might be able to help. Ned's impressed.

She shared the Cajeta-like stuff with me.

The sweeties are there again. One from yesterday and a one we haven't met. The one from yesterday tries to make conversation but with limited success. She opens a can of something. I think it's made of condensed milk. Cajeta (or something like that - first introduced to me by Alphonso Ibanez, my second college roommate), kind of a caramelized milk/sugar combo. She and I take turns dipping our fingers into it and licking them. Ned's not interested. We establish the fact that she'll be back here tomorrow and move off toward the hotel.

We pass a bus that has broken down. It's actually the first bus I've ever seen here in that condition. It's empty. In the middle of the street. A narrow street. On a hill. The other busses are having a hard time getting around. We return through the plaza - keeping an eye out for JTC . He's not here. The Visa credit card ladies are here but not the ones that took Ned's application.

Back at the hotel. I drop off some of my new money. Then we revisit Espresso Americano. Well, well - here's JTC, standing around in the park. He's trying to decide when to leave the country and head home. He says that it's a little early for him to be heading back but most of the people that he knows are leaving Honduras so he may head back. After that, the discussion turns to a tall guy from Houston who, six years ago, got his family jewels shot off. I decide that I've heard enough and have a caffeine attack. JTC comes along with us, bringing Ned up to date on things. On the way we run into a friend of JTC's. Ned and I continue to the espresso bar. We get our coffee and stroll across the street back into the parque centeral.

Oops! There's a angry crowd heading toward us. They're yelling, jumping around, and

waving machetes. They see us and start running. Actually I'm relatively calm. I don't have to outrun them. I only need to outrun Ned. They blow right past us, waving their picket signs and run around the corner. Feeling a little slighted we follow around the corner. They're bunched on the steps of city hall, protesting something. The shoeshine boys, who've been waving their shoeshine kits, lose interest and wander away. So do we.

We check out Marbellas (the Pina Colada place) for Italian food. It's full, not an empty seat in the place. Seems to be a good indication of the quality of the food. There's a place on the pedestrian mall that Ned wants to try. We go in and sit down. Somehow Ned seems to get on the wrong side of the waitress. (Of course service in Honduras is a little more low key than in most places back in Houston). We can't have the "plata del dia" it's too late in the dia. He gets a fried rice dish and I order two enchiladas and two tacos. I'm not sure which is which when they arrive. I ordered 2 + 2 because I'm not sure how much comes along with the meal. The menu didn't say anything about the usual side dishes of rice, beans, etc. Or at least if it did I didn't see it.

Our food arrives. Ned's looks pretty good - shrimp fried rice. Both of my dishes look like miniature haystacks of multicolored straw. They've got a strange thing that they do with cabbage (I think) here. They cut it into long strands and pile it on top of a lot of stuff. I dive into one of my dishes, (I think it's the enchiladas) with no rice or beans, pretty good even if it is not as I expected. I try the other dish - I assume it's the tacos since that's all that's left. It's more like what I'd call a chalupa. Except for a little gristle it's tasty as well.

Ned heads for the casino. I'm tempted to check out the parque again but opt for the hotel.

The owner is at the front desk. We talk about truck driving and gambling.