Nonetheless, I’m always careful and keep a worst case scenario in mind. There are places I rather not walk and times you should avoid hiking alltogether, such as Sunday afternoons when you’re prone to meet a bunch of drunks. Not necessarily dangerous, but not much fun either.
Last Saturday I had no intention to walk anywhere, but I didn’t have much choice. I had finished painting a mural at a school at about 45 minutes walking from Copán, and was waiting for my ride. But my ride, usually very reliable, never showed. Nor did any moto-taxi, which didn’t surprise me, because they’re never there when you need them, that’s a law. I kept on calling my guy, but after thirty minutes or so I gave up and decided to walk home. I wasn’t happy about it. It was late afternoon, but still soaring hot and I was exhausted after a full day of painting. I also carried a heavy bag with me (at least my paint and ladder were locked up at the school) and I wore the wrong shoes. Not that there’s anything amiss with my ancient, paint-splattered favourite Converse All Stars, it’s just that the soles are so thin, I could feel every pebble on the road. So thin, actually, I could even feel the chewing gums stains and tell the flavour. But anyway, I didn’t have a choice. Luca wasn’t happy either. Normally she wouldn’t turn a walk down, but she’d played around all day long with kids and dogs, without a chance to cool off in the river. But off we went.
The rest of the walk was hot, tedious and long, but otherwise uneventful. When I finally walked into town, I passed the house of my driver. He was sitting on the porch, enjoying a beer and the cool breeze the approaching night brought in.