Copan

After a lazy day of Mom's trip-planning and Charlie's web-conferencing we finally had a meeting of the minds as to how to spend Mom's remaining time in the country. I think Mom felt a little more at ease once she had a plan.

The next morning we were up at the crack of dawn and off for the eye-rattling seat-gripping three-and-a-half our bus to Antigua. Once there, we were churned out of the bus's human conveyor belt, luggage and all on the edge of Antigua. We hauled all our luggage to the corner of town and worked tour-booker lane until we had secured a ride to Copan Ruinas, Honduras for sixty quetzales apiece or about eighteen bucks total.

I don't know how we managed the five-ish brutal hours between Antigua and Copan, but somehow we found ourselves sipping cocktails near a room we rented in a family-run place preparing ourselves for the ancient adventure to come.