“Honduras is part of me, just like my eyes are. I see Honduras every time I look in a mirror.” -Belkis, 19
Flying in over Honduras, the first thing that strikes you is the beauty of the country; the ungroomed woods, the proud and untamed mountains, and the bursting wildlife everywhere underneath you. The shade and humidity from trees making the hillsides ideal for coffee farming. Walking through the village in the afternoon the coffee production is everywhere from the numerous pick up trucks stuffed with workers driving home from the mountains to the ubiquitous smell of fermenting coffee berries, and the coffee beans drying in the sun in front of every other house.
Meanwhile the village kids are playing around and taking care of the small fires by the roadside burning the day’s trash, the emaciated dogs are scavenging for edible leftovers amongst it, and the women are making their way to the nearest pulperia (corner store) to buy a few eggs or a packet of shampoo, and of course to make sure they get the latest neighborhood news. All of this reminding you, that Honduras has no way of saying “No hurry!”, because when would they ever need to.
A trip to the city makes the stark contrasts of the country apparent though; honking cars, exhaust fumes from antique taxis, fancy malls, street acrobats, gang graffiti, business men in SUVs, begging children and the homeless, pimps picking up small girls and boys from the street, venders walking between the cars with everything from sliced mangoes and sweet cookies to wiper blades, armchairs and toys.
No matter where you look, there is life; vegetation, animals or human beings. While Honduras might be known for being the murder capital of the world, there is hardly a place more alive than here, and we are lucky to be in the midst of it!