Three nights in Tegucigalpa

It was quickly approaching nighttime when my bus pulled in to the bus terminal in Tegucigalpa.  I was starved, so I stopped at a neighboring outdoor pupusa restaurant.  When I sat down to eat, I took notice of all that immediately surrounded me.  A reasonably maintained restaurant; a noisy main thoroughfare; chatting teenagers as they walked up a center walkway of the a major road.  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary for an average Central America city.  

Street in Tegucigalpa

Shop in Barrio Abajo

Reporter on Calle Peatonal

After I finished my bite to eat, I hopped in a cab that was waiting at the bus terminal.  All of the hotel options given in my ebook, "The Rough Guide to Central America," were in Barrio La Hoya or Colonia Palmira, both about a mile away from where I was.  The sun was just setting as we sped along the winding and often confusing roads in central Tegucigalpa.  The taxi driver was in his mid-50s; had long, black hair; and had a debonaire sophistication about him.  As we began chatting about the city where he had lived for decades, I began to realize that perhaps the danger in Tegucigalpa was actually lurking out in the open.  It was within the cracks and fissures of everyday life.  

I pressed the taxi driver on the issues of gang payments.  I had listened to an NPR story just a couple weeks before about how cab and bus drivers in Tegucigalpa were forced to make weekly payments to various gangs.  He said that he had to payoff four gangs the following morning.  His response was very manner-of-fact.  When he was describing the payments, he didn't seem to show any emotion.  

A couple days later, another one of my cab drivers told me about his payments to various gangs.  He probably in his mid-40s but looked a lot older.  He had jagged and protruding teeth; whenever I looked directly at him I couldn't help but focus my gaze on his repulsive but all-the-while entrancing mouth.  He was extremely chatty and spoke with his hands.  With a teasing smile on his face, he imitated a knife slicing open his neck with his pointer finger, showing what would happen if he didn't pay the gangs each week. 

I could tell that both of my taxi drivers knew that this wasn't a regular occurrence in cities around the world.  However they used the word "impuestos," or taxes, to describe these payments.  The tax would keep them and their families reasonably safe from being killed by fellow gang members.  But the fine for not paying is torture or death?  In the United States, if you don't pay your taxes you might get a small fine or maybe six months in jail!  And the taxes in Honduras to gangs were not even restricted to just taxi and bus drivers.  Depending on the neighborhood, people also had to pay taxes to various gangs to run their street stalls or brick-and-mortar stores.

Young police officers in Barrio Abajo

Two police officers guarding a Burger King in Barrio Abajo

I stayed at the Granada II hotel in Barrio La Hoya for three nights.  I felt very safe inside of the hotel.  I frequently worked on my iPad in the lobby which was easily seen from the street.  The hotel was reasonably cheap, about $25 or so per night.  The receptionists and maids were very helpful and responsive.  The guests at the hotel tended to be higher socioeconomically than the general population of Tegucigalpa.  Many of them had come to Tegucigalpa for business or to visit family.

View from my hotel window

I wore very unassuming garb when traveling and my trip Tegucigalpa was no exception.  No jewelry, no cameras, no fancy clothes.  The two things of value that I always carry with me are my wallet (in Tegucigalpa, I only carried around enough money to get me through the day, usually only a few hundred limpiras) and my iPhone.  (For me, my iPhone is an all-in-one device.  It provides me with maps, cellphone service, Facebook, email, notes, and a better-than-you-would expect camera.  In fact, all of the pictures you currently see on my blog were taken with my iPhone 5!)  Even though I regularly took my wallet and iPhone out of my pocket on the street, I did not have any issues with potential thieves in Tegucigalpa.

I ventured into the mercado in Barrio El Centavo.  This neighborhood, over the Choluteca River from Barrio La Hoya, sees even fewer tourists than others areas and has even fewer police officers.  I walked through the large and crowded streets of the marketplace and occasionally dipped into the thin walkways with stalls lining each side.  I went the the museums, government buildings, and monuments in Barrio Abajo.  Like many centers of cities around the world, Barrio Abajo was somewhat seedy but charming nonetheless.  I walked down Bulevar Morazán in Colonia Palmira.  I saw most of the nicest hotels in Tegucigalpa: Hotel Honduras Maya, Hotel Plaza San Martin.

Plaza Morazan  

Calle Peatonal in Barrio Abajo

Barrio El Centavo

Barrio El Centavo

Barrio El Centavo

Congreso Nacional in Barrio Abajo

Barrio Abajo

Just south of Barrio El Centavo

Fruit market just south of Barrio El Centavo

I had a long chat with a Taiwanese woman, Wendy, who had just moved to Tegucigalpa two years ago to be with her new Honduras husband.  She was the only other foreigner I met in Tegucigalpa not from Central America.  She ran a Thai Restaurant that she and her husband has opened on Bulevar Morazán.  She told me that she was initially enamored with the city.  Compared to the Taiwanese, she had found Hondurans to be very friendly, greeting everyone with a hug and kiss.  However, after she had moved here, she realized the city's faults and dangers.  She rarely left the house at night and all of her employees had stories about being robbed.

One afternoon, I took a chickenbus bus to El Picacho, a great vista point where you can see most of Tegucigapla.  I had been told by multiple people and internet sites not to ride the buses in Tegucigalpa.  However, the two buses that I took seemed to be completely safe.  The bus that I caught from right outside of my hotel was brimming with people.  I had to grab on to a railing as the bus snaked up the side of the mountain.  Most of the fellow passengers were young, probably school age.  I hopped out when the bus approached the entrance to El Picacho.  As I walked along the lonely and desolate road on my way to the vista point, I chuckled to myself.  My parents had not approved of me traveling to Honduras, and I was lucky that my parents did not know where I was at that moment!  

View from El Picacho

I had been scared into thinking that Tegucigalpa was the Wild West of Central America.   I read about dead human bodies that people had seen on the streets.  A girl in Nicaragua told me that her friend had witnessed an actual murder in Tegucigalpa.  I heard tons of stories about being robbed or extorted.  However, I found a completely different city than the one portrayed on the news, print media, and by fellow travelers.  Tegucigalpa is not without its faults and dangers.  There is plenty of corruption, extortion, and violence.  However, this is mainly between gangs or over drugs or local "impuestos."  Tourists are generally bypassed in Honduras when it comes to violence or kidnapping.  My short trip to Tegucigalpa was very informative and interesting.  I would suggest it to anyone looking for a different, exciting, and culturally relevant type of tourism.