Honduras--A Dangerous Day

Honduras: A Most Dangerous Day by Amelia Billingsley

The rocks did not seem to be rocks. The volcanic formations were indeed like brain coral but not burned black. They were rather colorless, having centuries of falling water wash away their very souls. Brown algae covered them while pools of water filled the holes of their surface. Everything lay flattened by the cascade of hundreds of gallons of water constantly battering their surface. We walked gingerly, kneeling to touch their surfaces, placing our feet with our eyes.
The mist from the falls was more than expected. With turned heads, the four of us followed Rafael and tried to look into his smiling face between what had now become rain drops. Down into crevices and back up to pinnacles of slick rock just large enough for one foot to land solid leaving a partial purchase for the other. A fifth one came through the mist. We did not know the Belgian girl, dressed totally wrong ... long jeans, full foot coverings, struggling with a plastic headband to keep it from the drenching water.
It had been described as a “walk behind the falls”. It was a reality a walk in the powerful cascade. In single file, we held hands ... except for the stranger who did not seem to comprehend the need to find safety in unity. “You must hold the one behind you.” It was not the language barrier but the experience barrier that broke the chain.
Rafael led us forward, over the rocky slippery terrain, into the water chest high, pointing us to underwater rocks that would lift us to the next soaking downpour. At last a spot behind the draperies of water. We crowded into the tiny space and followed his directions to “breath through the mouth”, rest a minute here. And we mistakenly questioned the $5 we were paying him to lead us.
“Sit down, slide into the water, put your foot here, come to the rock and climb here.” Thought was lost and it became a matter of following his direction. “Watch your head.” “Look up and see the wall of water falling on you.” A second opening appears, smaller than the last and we gasp a little more to fill our lungs and let some calm re-enter our bodies. Huddled in a tiny crevice, we watch hundreds of gallons of water rush before us. Flattened against the moss covered rocks behind us, we can see nothing in front but a vertical river. Rafael's price was not so bad after all.
But, of course, there is a farther place if we want to go on but we must go there in twos. Dumbly we nod “yes” with sparkling eyes. We have reached the temporary insanity of adrenalin junkies, drunk with excitement. Two of us are again plunged into the river up to our chests while the others huddle behind the cascade, wondering if we will really return.
We rise again onto a tiny rock ledge, gasping for breath. Never have I been so clean, scrubbed by a downpour of water that stings and pushed the flesh against ones bones. We laugh as Rafael yells into the mass of water in glee ... or is he signaling to those below the falls that we are safe. There is a cave, a tiny one. Behind the thousands of gallons of water, there is a tiny dry cave. It is enough to stick our heads in to see dark nothingness, not enough room for our entire bodies. At this far end of our journey, I ask “Do we return the same path we came?” He assures me it is so and then asks his burning question, “How old are you?” He responds to my reply with delight. “You are very strong, a very brave woman.” I have a feeling I may be his record antiquity for this adventure.
We step back into the river of water and lose all sense of direction or power of decision in the quest for survival. The water beats on us and our heads search for openings to draw breath into open mouths. It occurs to me that Rafael carries no “throw bag” or rope. We have no helmets. If our hands lose grip, we will be swept into a rocky chasm and carried crashing through the water flow to God knows where. Or, perhaps we will simply be plunged into one of a multitude of powerful hydraulics that surround us where our bodies will be beaten continuously against the submerged boulders that partially block the sun. At last the hand we have trusted pulls us upward to stand on a rock dome and reach for the waiting hand of a fellow idiot. We have passed into semi-dryness again and scream words of delight and awe at one another against the roar of the beating water. We wait for Rafael to take the others to the far place and eventually reunite us.
Danger is so relative. The same rocks we climbed over in terror to get into the water fall seem as nothing as we return. We have been to the place of extreme danger. This is almost safety. Rafael unlocks the gate that keeps the casual tourist away from our path of danger and delivers us to the misty pathway that will take us away from the falls. We have no regret at paying the $5 fee. He had taken us to the brink of death and brought us back safe.

Hilton Head Island

In June Amelia and I went down to Hilton Head Island for a few days. My cousin Jimmie Lou from Texas and her daughter's family were vacationing there. My cousin had gotten us tickets to a cooking class at the Coastal Discovery Museum. Shirley Ann Robinson was the cook. She was raised on Daufuskie Island, near Hilton Head. When in elementary school, her teacher one year was Pat Conroy who wrote The Water is Wide about his experiences there. She taught us how to make smothered shrimp and grits with bread pudding for desert...wonderful food and entertaining teacher.

The second day we went out on a 42' sail boat. Dick, the skipper was a member of the Power Squadron, my cousin was the National Commander of the Sea Scouts a few years back and mutual friends set it up for Dick to take us out on his boat. We had a nice trip out to Daufuskie Island but there wasn't any wind for the sails. We anchored and had lunch, Jimmie Lou had made a old family recipe, Mexican Salad that really tasted good on the boat. Nice day out on the water.

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AMELIA’S Tips for Italy!

LEARN to cross the street in Naples, Italy, so it will never ever get any harder to do. It takes guts to practice the “step out in front of the cars and they will stop for you” system. Our guide in Rome said it was best to “never make eye contact with the drivers” as they would know they could bluff you into stopping. Best ideas -- find an Italian to cross with because they know how to do it … or step in front of scooters. They can dodge you better.

DO -- Take a paid tour of Sistine Chapel & Vatican and of Michelangelo’s David in Florence. In fact, don’t go to Italy if you can’t see David in Florence. It’s that great. And to both of these the lines are hours long so the early paid tour is by far the best way to do it. Lines are unreal also at the Uffizi Gallery in Florence but you can call on a Skype phone and make reservations there (and only pay for it if you get there!).

-- Go to Venice NOW before all the locals leave. Insist on staying on the island. DO NOT settle for staying in Mestre and touring into the city. The evening walks through alleys and winding streets is the best of Italy. DO ride the “vaparetto” (water bus) with the locals … a 24 hours pass will get you everywhere, including nearby islands.

-- Wander up a side street and stop in a local deli. Buy cheese and meat for a picnic. A fun pantomime with non-English speaking, friendly Italians will give you a 5E lunch and a 25E memory plus a photo.

-- Try public transportation – buses in Rome (buy tickets at Tobacco Stores and search for a bus stop. Get the bus going the wrong way and go the whole loop … you’ll see something new at any rate.)

-- Stop at the Autogrill – an upscale truck stop. Good food … especially the risotto!!!

DO NOT -- Buy all those other tours. You can easily do the Pantheon, Trevi Fountain, etc. on your own in Rome. You can do Venice, Pompeii, and the Uffizi in Florence with a little courage.

-- Get upset when Italians ignore your line or don’t get to you when you think they should. There is a word for people like that and it is “Italian”. It’s their country; don’t expect them to be “Americans.”

-- Buy into the idea that everyone is a “pickpocket”. Be reasonably cautious – “day wallet” with only basic moneys and ID, big money in money belt or in your right shoe (my favorite place / pry up the inner sole and stick in a couple of big bills). Watch out for one anther.

-- Wait. Tourism is down by 40% or more in Italy which means smaller crowds.

IPOD – Great for travel. Download an audio book or two for the plane, and Italian lessons to make you think you will be able to speak Italian, and travel guides. We had 2 or more pod casts on every town and wonderful guided tours of Uffizi and of Venice by Rick Steves. Free downloads and lots of information.

Insights – Naples is the dirtiest city I’ve ever been in (and that includes all of Central America.) The museum is filled with great things but poorly captioned. Probably a better stay would have been Sorrento and train back up to Pompeii on the “Circumvesuviana” train.

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Montreal & Quebec Winter Carnival

In February we took a trip to NYC to see our new granddaughter, Zemi. During that time we also took a trip to Montreal and Quebec.
We left out of Penn Station on Amtrak and took the 11 hour trip to Montreal. Ride on the left side going North to Albany to see the Hudson River, then on the right side to see Lake Placid. We only spent one day in Montreal, walking around to see some of the buildings in the old city and the Notre Dame Cathedral. Then a three hour train trip to Quebec.

In Quebec they were having the Winter Carnival, with ice castles, snow sculptures and other activities. We stayed in a B&B in the old city, near the Carnival sites. After a day and half in Quebec, we returned to Montreal for a night, then back to NYC on the train (a long ride since the scenery was not new.) If you do the train ride, be sure to take food since they only have pre-made sandwiches in the cafe car. In Albany, there is a 20 minute brake but not a whole lot of food in that station either.

Go to the link on the left side of the page for pictures.