An Intellectual Exercise

He had a return ticket.
And with a return ticket,
courage is an intellectual exercise,
like a monk's flagellation.

--Graham Greene

Yeah, I said hey we hit the ground and honey this place is green, baby I mean green and wet. They tell me it's been raining like crazy and everything is flooded. I don't mean to break into your bubble old bud, but back in the Ozarks where I come from we don't say flood, we say lake, and we fish in it, not live under it. No big deal. Here I am at the airport, Continental has sent my luggage to Lake Wobegon, and ain't nobody here to show me how to get to El Progreso.

That's OK. Hey sport, how about a map of the metro area? You know: map? plano? streets? man I'm talking cars and stoplights and northsoutheastwest. No maps? What kind of a country is this that doesn't have street maps? I'm here in the middle of the Amazon delta and all I can see is water and the tops of banana trees and you're telling me there ain't no maps? OK cowboy, calm down a little. Don't think about all that luggage up around the Arctic Circle. Forget that the underwear you're sweating in is going to have to last you four months. Hey it's cool that once you walk the two kilometers to the highway you don't know where the bus stops or which way to take it. Oh man, I miss the Metro in Madrid and its well-lit maps and trains that run smoothly and on time and the bus that goes from the airport almost to my front door. Went. But don't think about that now. You are a long way from sunny Spain. Just find the bus. Yeah.

Right. Got on the bus, guy took my 90 centavos when I said "El Progreso" so I guess I'm headed in the right direction; but hey darlin', what are all these guns doing on this bus? PLEASE-would-you-get-that-OUT-of-my-back-it's-making-me-UNCOMFORTABLE. Hey, no offense Clyde, I just never sat on no bus with two cats in Rambo outfits in the seat behind me. And alright, who's the little eight-year-old there smiling at me? Yeah, that's a guitar I've got, what's the deal little gal, you never seen a guitar before? Hey now, don't take it personal. That smile on your face is a lot more welcome than this howitzer sitting behind me.

And the dust, have you ever seen so much dust, everything that's not water is dust. The only route between the 2nd and 3rd largest cities in the country, you'd think someone could PAVE the damn thing! Alright, slow down cowboy. Let it sink in a second. You're in Honduras. Things just work a little different around here. You can adapt. You can figure things out. But come ON man, will-you-get-that-mortar- away-from-my-neck!

Surprise, got into town. Surprise, found a cab and only got overcharged 50% for the ride to Jack's place. Had dinner (surprise, FRIJOLES). Now I'm sitting in my own room: two desks, two beds, two windows and a view of the soccer field and the rain. Centipedes wriggling across the floor. Let's go, Jack says, we got a show tonight; ain't no time for jet-lag, first-world-boy, let's MOVE. Yeah, and I don't know who's enjoying it more, my head or my backside as they bounce between the ceiling and the seat of this antique Chevy pick-up. Jack opens a pack of cigarettes, pulls one out, pushes in the lighter, lights the cigarette, all the while changing gears every third second, swerving from one side of the road to the other and back to avoid potholes, bicycles, oncoming-cars-veering-into-our-lane, lines of pedestrian refugees from the siege of Moscow.

Adapt, adapt, just roll with things, don't let this get you, calm down, relax, Jack has been here ten years, he knows what he's doing. Ha ha, Jack. Funny. OK Jack, you've achieved the desired effect, you're succeeding in freaking me out. Jack, turn your blinker off, we can't drive down that street, Jack, it's under six feet of water, Jack, my God has ten years of tropical sun addled your brain boy? don't play dumb with me -- AAAHHHH! Oh Lord Jack, we're going to be washed into the Caribbean, what about crocodiles? they live on these kinds of streets, WHY are you endangering my life like this?

Phew! Well we made it to higher ground. Don't worry about the truck, Jack, it should drain by morning. And my shoes. Well, they're leather, they can handle a little swim. OK, adapt, settle down.

Settle down to a nice relaxing game of dodge-'em cars through downtown Progreso.

Jack, do you see that pig? Jack, the pig, Jack, JACK he's as big as an elephant JAAACK! OK, OK, don't worry about me, I'm gonna be alright, I'll be fine, just keep driving, I'm learning all kinds of things. But tell me, how did that pig get behind us without destroying the front end of this car? Magic. I know. He passed through our molecules.

OK, so we get to the teatro without further incident and HEY, this is a real theatre! Got to be the only theatre in the western hemisphere with almond, avocado, mahogany, banana, coconut, lemon and orange trees out front. Whoa, and this building! You guys WORK on this baby. It's GOOD-looking. And Jack is almost calm, I mean these guys are in control: they're selling tickets and cokes, and cleaning the stage, and practicing their juggling. I'm telling you this place works. It even LOOKS like a theatre, and those people filing in are bubbling and seem to know they're in for an evening of rock-'n'-rollin' good fun. It's a kid's theatre festival and I see KIDS. The lights are going down, the crowd hushes and out come the jugglers, and hey little Chito is juggling some rings and his smile reaches to San Pedro Sula. Hey, this is FUN! Wish I could understand what they were saying. But that's OK, I'm cool, I laugh when the audience laughs, I'm hip to these theatre conventions.

Well now, I'm feeling a little cocky. Finished the evening at the teatro reasonably well. My Madrileño Spanish is from another planet. Fat juicy centipedes mating in my guitar case. Sitting in my room 'round midnight, the rain just keeps comin' down like it ain't never gonna stop.

Uh! Oooh?! Say what? CHURCH? But Jack, bro, it's quarter-past-eight man, don't you know the baby Jesus NEVER got up before Sesame Street at 10:30? OK, OK, yeah, a cup of coffee (I said COFFEE) and we're bouncin' down the same moonscape as last night only now I'm blinded by the light. I can't see! Jack, I'm lost man I can't SEE NOTHIN'. Deal with it, man, you're liberal. Oooo, it's cool and shady in here, THAT'S why these folks are here, man the place is full of kids, they're laughing at Jack's jokes, now they're MOBBING him, the handshake of peace? yeah, let's TOUCH the funny priest. You can take Jack out of the theatre. . . .

Time to break away, to prove my mettle (or find it). Wander around a little, what's that crowd all about? Man it must be something good, they're all WILLINGLY standing in the sun. What's in the bag, bud? A what? A thirty-foot cobra? Geez, you're right! He's what? Oh c'mon be for real. He's hawking a remedy for snake-bite? He's gonna what? LET THE SNAKE BITE HIM? It must have been the bus, man the bus was magic and slid me into a García Márquez and any second now someone's gonna just float up into the sky and never be heard from again.

Grab an anchor, gotta get back in touch. Ah, the market, it's cool and shady like the church. OK, let's find some of those clever native crafty things everyone will go ga-ga over back home. Come on you guys, quit messing with me, where have you hidden the mahogany and the leathers and the weavings? All I see is polyester shirts, polyester pants, polyester UNDERWEAR! And plastic! Plates, cups, Lord, plastic HAMMOCKS! I've surfaced at Wal-Mart's jungle outlet. And expensive! Don't you folks understand that everything down here is supposed to be almost free?

Football game? Sure Edy, let's go to a football game, nothin' like a football game on Sunday afternoon. Tickets say we're sitting in the "sol" and ain't no lie, I'm like to fry here on the concrete. Edy, why's the chain-link fence around the field got six feet of barbed wire on top? Edy, the ball's round, and they're kicking it, I thought you said a football game. Oh, fútbol. OK. But Edy are those eight-year-olds selling beer? Gussie Busch wouldn't go for THAT. And Edy, where are all the gals?

OK, I'll stop asking questions. Watch the game. It's alright actually, lotta action, not too much blood, but I still don't get how they come off callin' it football. Hey look nice play HE SCORES wow great play huh Edy? Edy, here comes the ref, man they've got him trapped up against the chain-link/barbed-wire fence right in front of us and he's surrounded by eleven cats in shorts and knee socks and they are YELLIN' some stuff at that boy and hey baby what the folks in the stands are screamin' would get you locked up in jail in New Orleans and now they're pelting that poor ref with every cup of beer in the stadium Edy why are you so calm WE'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF A THIRD-WORLD-RIOT I DON'T THINK IT'S CUTE!

And what? The ref's disallowed the goal? But Edy look, man now the OTHER team is attacking the ref and they've got him cornered inside the goal and HEY LOOK man they're swingin'! Look Edy it's some little runt beatin' down on the ref. The batboy? He's upset you say? Nothing like getting emotionally involved in your job

I guess. Edy why are three guys with Uzzis draggin' the kid off the field? No big deal? Maybe, but who's that chain-link/barbed-wire supposed to protect from who?

Just tread water man, don't get pulled under. Gotta get back to my cocoon, sit in my room, coddle my guitar, kiss my return ticket, squish a few centipedes.

The BEACH! Yeah, I can deal with this. I can only see a few million miles of shoreline, about a thousand pelicans (now THAT is a cool-looking bird) LOOK, how quaint, Carib children swimming in the ocean as if they were raised here, and there's a dude pushing out a hand-carved canoe, and over there those houses all have bamboo walls and palm-leaf roofs, I'm dreaming, I've landed in a Gauguin. But WAIT, here's my anchor, my pole-star, my rock of ages. Over there, you see it? The Coca-Cola sign! Fine, fine sir, a rum and coke, squeeze of lime over here, yessir, need a little bit of civilization. I sure am glad you actors worked so hard the last couple of months to deserve all this.

Cruising back now, sitting in the front seat tryin' to roll with the bumps and keep the bruises to a minimum. Jack, does the verb "to spaghetti" exist cuz that's what that tanker truck's doing down the highway directly towards us and Jack now he's closer and he's a damn lot bigger than us and Jack if he's playing chicken man I 'fess up I'M CHICKEN, Jack he's really close I ain't lyin' Jack he's REALLY close, oh you're playing with my brain again, here he comes TELL MA I LOVE HER!!

The molecule-passing trick. If I can get this knee out of my mouth I'll be alright. ACH! OUCH! UEGH! POTHOLES!! Jack they're big GURGH! Jack I saw a Corolla at the bottom of that last one, shouldn't we stop to help? Every man for himself, huh?

Nighttime, back at camp. Boogie off for a little while, see the sights, let's find out what shakes in this place. We can cut across the soccer field toward the road and AAHHH the lights! This is another trick, right Honduras? My God, it's a Contra attack! an air raid! No, wait, it's a blackout, a BLACKout, I'm talkin' dark darker darkest, I can't see NOTHIN', I mean it's finally happened, they've sucked me into a black hole and I'll never escape.

What's happening? A million different sparkles, uncountable individual glows everywhere (but where?) the moment I see one it vanishes, eyes and brain stop working as a unit, no focus, no depth, lights blazing and floating and fluttering and blinking. I swing my arm and a dozen appear, disappear, no choreography, no method, just the madness of magical lights, lights I can't see, just the absence of darkness and it's fireflies FIREFLIES all the way to the sea, an ocean of rolling light crashing and breaking over the water and the dusty road and the sun and the snake-oil salesman and the mating centipedes and we're here in the enchanted forest and MAGIC IS REALITY!

--Mike Warner

P.S.: Luggage last reported in Karachi.