Houston-El Salvador-Tegucigalpa, Leg 2

What I saw of Houston didn't exactly leave me burning with desire to come back. But then, what I saw of Houston was a bad motel, a formidable, never ending highway system built to support bumper to bumper morning traffic from a plague of SUVs and people carriers, and a depressing collection of plastic, neon light, fast food outlets.

I would't ever live in suberbian North America where every house looks the same and there's a church and a mall and a McDonalds every ten blocks. After all the flying hours we've put in, my poor travelling partner has more than earned himself a cold beer, on his 31 hour birthday, but the best we can do is a bad burger and unlimited refills of fanta, or something equally unsatisfying.

No one walks anywhere here and we received one of those "are you out of your minds?" looks when we asked about returing to the motel on foot. We soon realized why, as the pedestrian pavement gave way to course, tall, wreathes of prickly grass and swampy weeds underfoot. The mile and a half walk turned into quite a nature trail as the dense undergrouth beagn to plant a sense of trepidation in us as to what exactly might be lurking beneath. The mosquitos began to bite and a spider web danced across my face and shoulders causing me to shriek and spasm like a woman possessed.

Hot. Steamy. Swampy. Remote. And certainly not pedestrian friendly; that was my overwhelming impression of Houston. Although I have to acknowledge that this is perhaps an unfair one. One of my best friends in the world lives here (or somewhere round here) and I trust her judgement. It may be true that we want different things from life, but it's also true that she has exceptional taste. I am willing to come back and see a differnt side to this curious place, which has to offer a more exhilerating culineray experience than Denny's.

I don't know if this is technically correct to say these days, but if I say that we didn't see a single "white" person here, would that cause offence? It's not meant to. It just goes to reinforce what a 'meltingpot' this great land is. I think that everyone from the moment we arrived was of Latin origin, Black, Asian or some palce else. I always thought that Europe was multi-cultual.

From Houston we made a small detour to El Salvador. Despite the absurdly indirect flight path to Honduras, I have to say, both our airport waits coincided perfectly with the world cup fixtures and we were able to watch Spain beat Germany, to the delight of all in the airport bar in San Salvador.

We tried pupusas (corn tortillas filled with cheese, chicharron and frijoles) and local cerveza, both served with a contagious, genuine, ear to ear smile, accompanied with the phrase "a la orden"; something like, "here to serve you".

Our flight was announced and we we sped towards the departure lounge, aware that we had lingered a little too long to see the close of the game. "Ahh" I said to Anko, relieved, "the plane's not even here yet", not realizing that the tin can with wings on the side outside the window was to be our transportation to Tegucigalpa. I exaggerate. I have that tendency. But Anko and I exchanged nervous glances as the engines spluttered into life (one disturbingly later that the other). We sat on the tarmac for a considerable amount of time, fuelling our worst imaginations, before were given the all clear and we taxied towards the runway.

I think the whole plane held its breath as we raced along the surface, gathering speed. "It was nice knowing you" joked Anko, as the little plane lurched into the air and we began to climb, piercing through the air and leaving the lushous green fields and inviting stretches of sandy beaches behind. It was stickily hot as the sun penetrated the window and into my eyes, yet, I couldn't bring myself to pull down the blind, tired and uncomfortable as I was. I was lost in tought. Such a beautiful and rich terrain lay beneath us. How can a country with such fiendly and hard working people, tropical climate, abundance or natural resources and tourist destinations be in such a mess of street gangs, drug cartels and desperate vagabunds whose regard for hunman life has fallen so low that they will kill over a cell phone.

What is El Salvador famous for? Poverty? Crime? A heart-stopping divide between the rich and the poor? I don't know at what time we crossed airspace, but we must have been in Honduran skies as we began to make our descent and my ears started to pop. I have so much to discover here, but I expect that the same troubles that hamper El Salvador's progress also plague Honduras. With an approximate 65% extreme poverty rate, this is not exactly on Conde Naste's top see destinations.

As we circle the capital, it is a sprwaling mass of ramshakle, barely held-together dwellings saturating the various mountain peaks. Tegucigalpa sits in a bowl with shanty towns stretching out over the hills as far as the eye can see. What a stark contrast from touching down in Houston where every house had its own garden or swimming pool, or, at the very least, its own defined space; here it seemed as if the houses were built on top of each other, some with thick plastic tarps serving as rooves.

We were almost at ground level and I still couldn't make out an airport. Feeling as if we were about to collide into a row of houses, I closed my seyes for a second and we thumped down onto the tarmac. I had heard just before I left, that every one out of ten planes that lands here has to sharply pull its nose up and circle round to land again, so short and narrow is the runway.

Well. Here I am. Honduras. This is going to be my home for the next few months, unless I am inept at my job and they send me home sooner. Time will tell. How curious it is to be in a constant internal battle with two sides of yourself. I always say I would be equally happy with a beer and a choripan, a football game and seedy bar, as I am with fine champagne and sushi. But I do like to have access to both. And that's a luxury I can afford.

I feel a little uneasy about staying in a 5 star hotel, while the majority of the people live with constant power cuts, the ongoing menace of street crime and a rising epidemic of Dengue. The people I will meet here move about in armoured cars with stained black windows. If anyone can transcend the worlds of this chaotic place it's me. It will be intersting seeing how.