Honduran customs didn't stamp my passport. What a waste.

So after waking up at 4 a.m. yesterday, waiting at the gas station until 6 for the bus, crossing the border to Honduras, not getting my passport stamped, changing buses in the middle of nowhere, getting stopped by the Honduran police and having all my belongings searched for drugs and weapons, changing buses in Tegucigalpa and finally in San Pedro Sula... I have arrived in Copan Ruinas. There's an accent in that name, but this keyboard won't do accents or parenthesis, for whatever reason. And the guy running the cybercafe is really surly. And probably 15 years old. Awesome. I think I am kind of grouchy right now as well.

This morning I went to the nearby Mayan ruins with 3 other girls I met, one from my hostel and 2 who we ran into while getting coffee. The 4 of us, along with 2 other travelers, split the price of a guide for the ruins, which was totally worth it. I got some cool pictures and had a good time laughing with our guide Mauricio and with my group. These were my first real ruins, other than the ones I sketchily visited while in Argentina, so I just tried to absorb as much as I could.

I am still up in the air as to whether I will stay here tomorrow or head to Tela, on the Caribbean coast. Part of me hates the thought of getting on another bus, even if it is just for 5 hours, whereas part of me has no desire to stay in this town. It's a cute place, but not at all Honduran. The town was built so people could visit the nearby ruins; hence, it feels a little like Disneyworld. Also, I think I have hit my full capacity for new experiences, and I sort of just want to run back to Nicaragua and enjoy that country for the next 5 days. I should give Honduras a chance, though. Thus far I've found the people to be incredibly kind. But really, I miss Nicaragua.

Also, being on the bus gave me some serious time to reflect on my time here, and I came to the stunning conclusion that I really strongly dislike Granada. The Nicaraguan Granada, I mean. I have nothing against the Spanish version. Anyhow, the whole time I was there I couldn't help but feel this separation from the city, almost like the place was drowning and I was standing on the sidelines watching. I thought that was how I felt about Nicaragua in general, but after travelling for a couple of weeks I've realized that, for all its poverty, the country itself is really beautiful and the people are just normal people once you get away from the tourist hubs. The problem with Granada, in my opinion, is that it's almost entirely a city of foreigners. Nearly all the businesses and hotels are owned by foreigners, and even those that are owned by locals cater to tourists because we have the money. This creates a huge gap between the Nicas and the visitors and it leaves the city feeling half dead, in my opinion. I honestly feel so strongly about this that I'm dreading going back there to pick up the stuff I left on Wednesday, and I wish I could just skip it and head straight to the airport in Managua. But that's impossible and irresponsible, so I will just suck it up and spend one final night in a hostel in Granada. And who knows? Maybe distance is just making my heart grow less fond.