Feeling charged by my visit to Tela, I bid my hosts farewell (hasta la proxima) and begin my voyage by bus to Masca. Suzanne was careful to advise me (many times) about the possibility of getting jacked and to kindly let the potential assailant have all my things. I’m a world traveler from the Lou and already know what’s up, plus momma didn’t raise no fool. HOWEVER, for about 6.8 seconds, I was scared out of my mind as an image of me having to relinquish the little that I possess to some delinquent. Well, after those 6.8 seconds passed, I reminded myself that I always travel as an Envoy from God and would say my traveling prayer and be good to go. (Hey, don’t mock me! It’s what I know and believe and it hasn’t failed me yet!)
The bus ride was uneventful, thank the Lord, but I will offer a little commentary. I don’t like Greyhound or Peter Pan and I detest the Chinatown bus. They’re always full and smell of some mixture of funky toes and two-day old bologna sandwiches. I don’t like to be crowded, nor do I like the smell of food trapped in a vehicle. (Don’t judge, I’m not being a diva, just stating my idiosyncrasies.) My first bus is like a hot Chinatown bus, but minus the smell. Not too bad. I did manage, however, to pick the ONLY seat on the bus that received direct sunlight and had a broken window. Problem: it’s hot as Hades here!! I’m sweating profusely sitting still. We arrive at San Pedro Sula. I meet some Garifuna friends, Naul and Vanessa, who help me with my transfer. The next mini directo bus to Puerto Cortes is nice…it’s air-conditioned and small and uncrowded…YIPPEE!!! Random note: why has the bus driver picked a radio station that plays bad US 80’s music? Haven’t heard MC Hammer’s “Have you seen her?” in 15 years! 
There was a big bus terminal in San Pedro Sula. So I assumed the same would be true in Puerto Cortes and I’d be able to more or less find my way with or without my new friends. And the survey says…..NOOO!! Thankfully Vanessa advises me to deboard with her and just wait a minute. Ummm, ok. She leaves around the corner and comes back and tells me to wait with this guy who will tell me which bus to take to Masca. She leaves in her taxi and I sit down on the curb next to a friendly stranger and wait for the signal. It’s a lovely day, so I just roll with it. I engage my new friend in some conversation and enjoy my wait. It really is a nice day and I feel myself taking on the calm of the pace of life here…and I like it. I also like that I look like I’m from here. I could be Garifuna…well until I open my mouth and my accent (I accept that I speak Spanish well but do not sound like a native) falls out. So, it’s been nice traveling with my Afro-Honduran family. 
Oh, wait…here’s my bus. YES!! I’ve been waiting to ride one of these…the super long yellow school bus. Also, it’s totally normal for select people to get on and off this bus through the emergency exit. Oh and the guy who takes the money, sometimes needs to get off and sprint across the highway to get change at a pulperia (little store). Yup, just roll with it. Gosh, this scenery is gorgeous. Sometimes, I forget that trees SHOULD occur naturally. How refreshing to see beautiful green trees, mountains and the beach front on this short voyage. I’ve had an adventure today, but to take this in is so worth it. About 45 minutes later, I see something familiar. There it is -- the little sign on the side of the road that lets me know I’m home. Masca…I’m back!!
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