Christmas Eve

24th December

It’s almost 6pm, dusk, in Honduras which means it is nearly midnight Christmas Eve in England. From a hammock, and with a beer, I am watching the fire flies are lazily flying over the lawn of the hostel, twinkle of natural fairy lights to welcome in Buenos Noche. In Central America, as in many parts of Europe, people celebrate on the 24th – Buenos noche meaning Good Night – with family gatherings to exchange presents, eat large meals featuring tamales, cakes, rum and coffee. Chicos are setting of firecrackers. Georgia is on the lawn amongst the fire flies, I’m in a hammock, chilling out before the night ahead for which we have bought panetone and champagne from the Italian bakery.

We need to relax after an active day. We took the two hostel kayaks out to sea just after 10.00am and paddled around the headland to the next beach. The sea had got up in the night so it was fun bobbing up and down on the waves for about half an hour until we reached the beach. This was the quiet beach the guide recommended in favour of the town beach but the amount of flotsam and oily grey sand were a big disappointment. We swam and sunbathe before kayaking back, returning about 2.30pm to have lunch – at last!

We followed the fireflies with another beer and avocado salad alongside the other hostel guests – Mexican, German, British, French, French Canadian, Spanish and Nicaraguan. About 10pm we went outside to promenade with the locals, many of whom were on their ways in large family groups to family dinners and parties, some with pinyatas for the children. Lots of children were out setting off firecrackers, except for one delightful boy who had pretty and more tranquil flying horizontal Catherine wheels. Gangs of teenagers huddled together around bikes, adults outside of bars. After walking the whole length of the street as far as the main road we picked up our champagne and panetone and sat on the end of the dock, under the near-full Full Moon, watching fishes in the water and listening to the party along the beach. The extra dry champagne was delicious yet sweet, the panetone beautifully baked to perfection.

Half the panetone, the whole of the champagne and an hour later and we were on our way to the party. A dark beach dancehall was packed with Hondurans, all couples gyrating to the hot Latin tunes of the enthusiastic DJ. A few slick moves British style showed the locals how to keep their hips still and showing them up we departed for bed.