Honduras is country #51. Today was a marathon bus ride though northern Nicaragua, the Pacific coast region of Honduras and western El Salvador. Unlike a real marathon, the worst part of the journey was the beginning. I waited two hours in the scorching heat next to the exhaust, air brakes, and horn blasts of a highway. I was joined by Gadi and Tal from Israel and Nin and Rich from England. Together we sweated under the ever-decreasing shade of a concrete overhang. Our ride, the TICABUS, had left San Jose, Costa Rica early that morning, and there was no telling how far off schedule it might be by the time it reached Leon. After seeing a dozen chicken buses come and go, finally, our salvation arrived.
TICABUS provides uncommon luxury after a week of perspiring through Nicaragua. Plush seats, movies, two meals, a toilet, help through passport control, and most importantly frigid AC was just what the doctor ordered. We watched "The Godfather" through Nicaragua, "Man on Fire" through Honduras, and "Taken" in El Salvador. Hey, nothing like two movies about being kidnapped, and one on organized crime violence to get you fired up for San Salvador!
Upon entering Honduras, a doctor came out to the bus and looked us all over for potential Swine Flu victims. We all passed. 
The southern part of Honduras is dry, with sparse trees, and small villages. We rolled through one sizeable town, Choluteca. I see lots of cowboy hats here, but not too many cows.
