Woke up at 5AM this morning. That's good since in a day or so I've got to leave here around 5:30 AM to get to the airport. Promptly (more or less) went back to sleep. Got up at 8.

Off for espresso at Espresso Americano. I need my usual shot of caffeine and want to buy some coffee and one of their shirts. They're closed. I notice a lot of places are closed. I guess I'll have to stop in at the pastry place and drink some of their ordinary coffee.

The paper that I want isn't published on Sunday. I guess I'll have to read (or try to read) the one from San Pedro Sula. It's an OK paper but the want-ads are pretty irrelevant since I'm always looking for real estate or a job around Tegus.

I decide to see what else is closed. Things must be a lot better off financially over here since last time. I don't remember many things being closed over here on Sunday last time. I head over to the Shakespeare Bookstore. I plan on leaving him a few copies of Honduras '94. It's closed. There's a little fire engine parked in the middle of the street. There's about 20 guys standing around in fire uniforms. They seem to be trying to turn off a fire hydrant that's gushing water into the street. A few of them are rolling up a hose. I look around for any indication of a fire. None. There's no smell or smoke either.

Heading back to the firestation.

They seem like the typical bunch of people. There's an officer, trying to keep water off of his shoes while looking like he's in charge. There's an old sergeant trying to keep things going while teaching the recruits. There's a young sergeant (Who's been promoted very fast?) trying to keep the water off of the officers shoes. The only female in the group is walking around with a clipboard. The typical two or three having a smoke behind the engine while the others try to work/learn/earn their salary.

While I'm looking around I run into JTC. He's out for a walk and feeling much better. So much so that he decides to explain his theories of ethnic cleansing. I'm a little concerned about this since JTC seems to be a little hard of hearing and apparently thinks the same of everyone else.

The glue-sniffing kid from the other night comes up while we're sitting down. He tries to talk to me but I have no idea what he's trying to say. (For real this time - I usually am pretending). He goes over to JTC. No better luck there - away he goes.

For no good reason we head toward the Manuel Bonilla Theater. JTC goes with me. Apparently there's a police station down here somewhere. There's also a store here where you can buy all sorts of firearms. I've been down here previously but had never noticed the sign with a picture of an AK-47 hanging out front. From what JTC says, first you buy the gun, then you go get the permit, then you stop back by and pick up your purchase. Too bad they're closed, I've got some friends back home who would appreciate a thoughtful gift or two. Perhaps an anti-tank weapon for duck-hunting or hand-grenades to eradicate roaches. (And then there's my "Bazooka" theory of traffic control - but that's a different story)

JTC stops at the police station. There's a sweetie out front with some kinda weapon with a banana clip. She's wearing fatigues and black pumps. Very stylish. JTC walks up to the front window - kind of a half door thing. I have no idea what he's saying or how it's being taken. I try to move out of the field of fire - there's no reason to be hit by stray bullets.

Finally, JTC moves away from the police barracks. He claims that this is an all female police station. There's 50 women stationed here and he was looking for one that he dated for a while. The voice from inside the window yells something at us as we walk away. JTC responds to whatever she said. "What did she want?" I ask. "She wanted to know how much for your camera?" he says. "What did you say?" I want to know. "It's free for his girlfriend" responds JTC. That's my boy, always trying to be helpful.

As it turned out, JTC was not a very good photographer. That's me on the far right.

On the next corner we find several female officers (Municipal police/meter maids/highway patrol - I'm not sure) Anyway, JTC makes small talk and decides I need a picture of me with these officers. They seem agreeable.

Next we encounter a couple of JTC's friends on their way to La Officina. I'm hungry so I head off alone to find the Mediterranean restaurant that I found last trip. It's closed. I try a couple of other places. They're closed. (Religion is a good thing but this is a little much)

I abandon my pride and try a Whopper Burger with French fries (Pappas Fritas). The burger is a little dry but still pretty good.

Back at La Officina JTC's sitting with 4 other guys. One of them is my benefactor from the other day. The guy who warned me about the cars on the hill. I recognize him partially by his purple socks. They're in a deep discussion about something. I sit at a table across the aisle. The discussion continues, disrupted only when one of the guys breaks away from the group and runs outside to chase down a couple of Swedish girls. I've never seen a guy using a walker move that fast. He returns downcast. (OK - so he wasn't using a walker)

Somehow I've gotten a headache. I return to the hotel, take an aspirin and fall asleep in one of the rocking chairs in the lobby. I wake up for a while and talk to the book importer from Mexico. He has somewhat grandiose plans to import used books from the US. All of this is based on some projections he's made of the English literacy rate in Mexico. I ask him where he got the basis for these estimates. He admits that they're just guesses on his part but he needed something for his business plan. I recognize the method. I offer him a job.

I've forgotten the conversion rate. But this was a mighty good meal.

I wake up in time to go out for food. How fortunate. I just wander around, willing to take anything that looks interesting and is open. Here's a familiar place. La Terrazzo de Don Pepe. It was pretty good the last time I visited - let's try again. I'll just order something different. Ah - this looks a lot different. Upon further review, this is la Terrazzo De Don Pepe #5. I suppose Don Pepe has a chain of these and this is one of the smaller ones. Anyway, the service is pretty friendly. The guy waiting on me seems to really care if I get something and the girl who's also waiting on me has a beautiful smile.

I get "Chicken something". It's great. Probably the best cooked piece of meat that I've had on the trip. I try a papaya con leche. This time I get to watch it being made. Now I know why some of these taste so good and some don't. I see her put 3 tablespoons of sugar into the blender. I'm sure all the other ingredients are natural as well.

Back to the hotel. The book importer wants to go get dinner. I don't mention that I've just had dinner. He's interesting to talk to and we'll probably eat somewhere interesting since he speaks reasonable Spanish. He wants to try some Chinese food. From the place I ate yesterday. Happily, it's closed.

At Pizza Hut in Honduras they consider tomato sauce a topping and charge for it. Otherwise it was an OK experience. Gave away our last piece of pizza to some kid who came up and tapped on the window. It's dark outside but there's plenty of people walking around.

When we return to the hotel there's a sweetie sitting on the couch reading "Honduras '94". I smoothly move in and ask her how she likes my Book! She likes it! Good looking and excellent taste in literature! What more could I ask for? Well - for her to be single for one thing! She and her husband are driving through Central America celebrating graduation. She's got a degree in biology - his is in literature. He wants to open a small bookstore in Michigan. On the other hand they may decide to spend some time in the Peace Corps.