There once was a time when every trip I took became something to have expectations about. Good things. All the hopes for a pleasant vacation and fabulous stories that . Then a series of questions would follow. How will the country/place/attraction be different? What will I get from the experience? Will the women dig me? Will the food be too spicy? Will I be stranded somewhere? There are millions of questions that have crossed my mind. Yes, I think a lot.
However, things have changed, which is a good. I have loosened my hold on what a destination is supposed to be like and what I might get from it. I now allow the place to wash over me, something not to be judged or concerned with what and how things will happen.
In the brief time I have been in Honduras, no place feels more appropriate to not be judged or colored by expectation. Honduras is just the kind of place that should wash over me. On my first evening in Honduras, I had meandered the streets of Copán Ruinas lost to everything I knew about Central America. I let the music that blasted in this normally quiet town — I arrived during the festival — move me as it did to the other folks meandering in the street. There were few tourists as locals danced and ate from local sidewalk vendors. I joined in and no one minded. It was only then did I realize that I was in the middle of exactly what I had always dreamed an traditional Central American country was supposed to be. Then I pushed the thought out of my mind to make space for more experiences in Honduras.
The festival, which dates from March 15-21 every year in Copán, is in honor of San Jose Obrero. At the moment I cannot find out who that is. Still the event is fun and all are welcome in Copán Ruinas’ square as young and old dance together to traditional and house music.
Bad night time photography by Devin Galaudet
