…is apparently also a lie on Utila. I arrived on Roatan’s sister island via Captain Verne’s catamaran ($100 round trip Half Moon Bay, Roatan to Utila Town, Utila) on Tuesday. The plan? Hang out for a two nights, do a little skin diving, and return to the “real world” of Roatan on Thursday. Yeah, so about that plan… It’s Friday afternoon and I’m once again telling the lie, “Seriously guys, I’m leaving tomorrow.” This time, though, I mean it. Honestly. When I get back to Roatan’s blazing fast internet (think year-2000 speeds, as opposed to Utila’s 1994 speeds), expect deliciously debaucherous updates about my time here. I didn’t think an island could be more ridiculously bizarre than Roatan, but this » read more «

My hand twists the tank valve shut. She is visibly nervous. I watch her SPG drop 50 bar with each bubbly breath. The needle pegs at zero. Red zone. Out of air. Slash throat. She grabs her buddy’s alternate air source and tugs. It doesn’t budge. She jerks down again. Nothing. It’s snagged on her buddy’s strap. Her eyes widen with panic. My left hand twists her valve open. I can feel the air pulsing down the tubes to her convulsing lungs. “Okay?” I signal. She breaths deeply, rapidly. I lock my arms on hers and look in her wide eyes. “Breathe… breathe…” The bubbles slow. She’s shaking, but I’m not letting her go anywhere. Not until she’s ready. “Okay,” » read more «

Feces, meet fan. West End police have imposed a curfew and barracaded the intersection in order to promote the public peace during this night of political upheaval. Though grossly inconvenient for West End business, the move is justifiable given the recent turn of events on the Honduran mainland. Police patrols are currently strolling the streets, blaring messages to “stay in your homes” over their crackly loudspeakers. Ousted Honduran President Mel Zelaya’s attempts to land in Tegucigalpa today sparked civil unrest in the nation’s capital, as thousands of pro-Zelaya supported rushed the airport. Zelaya is currently in asylum in El Salvador. Two people have reportedly been killed in Tegucigalpa, drawing the first blood in this otherwise peaceful coup (or Constitutional balance » read more «

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” she says. “And I’m not drinking tonight,” I reply, tipping my half-full glass of rum and pineapple towards her. “To the lies of Roatan!” A clink of glasses and we drink. The soft glow of Christmas lights encircling a palm tree casts her face in a stunning juxtaposition of gold and shadows. My eyes trace the contour of her face, mentally absorbing the image of her delicate features, willing my mind to embalm this moment in the timeless formaldehyde of memory. Our gazes lock. The glimmer of the beachside bonfire dances in her dark eyes. In a glance, we tacitly acknowledge the waning hours. Say ‘goodbye’, I remind myself.