HONDURAS
Working from a closely held list of
17 Latin American "paradises" to retire to, I found myself in SAN PEDRO SULA, Houduras' second largest city, the reining
Murder Capital of the World, as my entry point into the Central American country of
Honduras. My principle objectives were the island of ROATAN, and the beach town of TELA, on the Caribbean coast.
First, though, I had to literally walk through a hail of bullets in San Pedro Sula. No, nobody was shooting at me. I was walking alone at night near
Hotel Monteolivos searching for any bar to grab a drink when gunfire, firecrackers, and car horns exploded in celebration for Honduras' upset victory over Mexico 2 to 1 in a
World Cup qualifying match. (It was a rare defeat for Mexico on Mexican soil, at
Azteca Stadium).
That night Honduras was the happiest place on earth.
To escape the gunfire I sought refuge in Club Pink Pussycat, a name with signage I would think appropriate for Bangkok, not Latin America. The club was conveniently located across the street from my hotel. I wish to make it clear that my purpose for entering such a club was firstly for my physical safety, and not because I was some kind of sex monger or sex tourist. I am not. Like most mature Americans I travel for the culture. But, in all candor, there was a secondary reason for visiting a club like this: health. Don't laugh. For us older individuals it's important to keep our private parts functioning, even if we don't do the deed. This is pretty much proven medically.
I've started a new regime, based on the advice of this
guy, to take a handful of pills with every bottle of beer or glass of wine.
