Guatamala....I had pasta there once.

I had a much needed vacation this past Thanksgiving Weekend - taking off for the western border of Honduras with the hope of seeing what all the hoopla was about the Mayan Ruins (Copan Ruinas in Spanish). Thursday afternoon found Ashley and I headed west in a car with three other Americans (one who was also Honduran). While the moutains sped by our window and the road became more and more curvy three of us may have taken some gravol which resulted in a quick nap and no motion sickness. We arrived as dusk was settling and found a hotel along the square. We headed out for cheap eats where girls balanced drinks and plates on their heads as they served. (That would do wonders for my posture!) The next morning we headed out to see the ruins - which are by no means under-rated. They are beautiful! (And had I downloaded pictures I might have included some but alas, I have not gotten around to it.) A liesurely few hours spent walking the ruins in the rain and before long it was 4:00. As we drove back into town the idea was hatched that we should make a quick trip to Guatamala - a mere 12 kilometers away. Really we all just wanted a stamp on our passports. John had not brought his passport and so we planned to leave him behind while we ventured into another country. So we pull up to the border and this is NOTHING like Canadian- US border folks. No boths in the road, no dogs, HUGE GUNS, no cameras, half drunk men, etc. We pulled the car over and meandered through numerous barricades with no one stopping us. We decided that maybe it would be a good idea to stop at the immigration office - maybe we could get that coveted stamp perhaps? So Maria (the Honduran - American) talked to the 'officers' (I use this word loosely - they were more like scruffy men in shirts with big guns) and discovered that they no longer did stamping on land crossings. SOMEHOW after a prolonged conversation two things occured:
1) A stamp was pulled out of somewhere, unwrapped, inked, and low and behold a stamp appeared on our passport.
2) John was allowed into Guatamala using his driver's liscense and with us all promising that we would be 'right back' Right.
So we hopped back into the car drove through the pylons and into Guatamala. Yeah! 2 Canadians, 1 American, 1 Honduran- American, and 1 illegal alien = GOOD SITUATION.
20 minutes down that road we discovered a small town. Now we really needed dinner and it didn't look like there was much. We drove on and stumbled across and 'restaurant' where we were served a wonderful dinner of spaghetti and 'bruschetta' - yep we drove all the way into Guatamala to eat....spaghetti. Thus the title of my blog. Upon completing our repast (I know I am totally jazzing up language - more interesting than saying 'after we were done') we promptly drove 20 minutes in the WRONG direction and almost got lost in the dark. In Latin American you do not want to be driving in the dark. People get hijacked alot - and the nice rental was not exactly inconspicuous. We had to head back for the same border crossing because we had John with us and might have got in a lot of trouble elsewhere. Needless to say we arrived back at the same border and drove into Hondras.
Only after we got home did we discover that this is the most dangerous border crossing of Honduras - with many people getting hijacked, robbed, and held up. Oops.
\manda