We get to the area surrounding the National Stadium after dark but plenty early for the 7:30 start time for the championship game of the Honduran professional soccer league. The crowd was already buzzing and had been for several hours as the vendors and police arrived earlier in the day in anticipation of the near sell-out crowd that began pouring in hours before game time.
After parking in the large space that is typically reserved for the local food market, we begin winding our way down the street surrounding the stadium to score some tickets and get inside as quickly as possible. Everyone in the know has warned us that the stadium gets pretty chaotic before any game but this is not only the championship for the season but also pits the biggest rivals - Motagua and Olimpia - versus one another, so is assured to draw not only a rowdy crowd but the usual array of delinquents that come out for any crowd in anticipation of a quick score.
With the stadium directly in front of us and one last lane of traffic to cross, I suddenly find myself standing toe to toe with some young guy who looks like any other 20-something year old milling around the crowded street - shabbily dressed and trying to look tough. He is literally inches away from me and as I try to step to the side to let him pass he steps directly back in front of me, blocking my path once again. At this point, I make sense of the phrase he is repeating to me - something about "dinero" and I instantly realize he is demanding my money. As he has his hands in front of him and he is taking a very aggressive stance, I recognize that he isn't holding a weapon but he is bracing for some kind of altercation. So before he can react, I raise my right arm placing my forearm against his chest and push him backward with all my strength, lifting him up and launching him about six to eight feet across the road and away from us. With a few distinct swear words and a roaring "NO", I remove any doubt on his part that I am not going down without a fight and the smaller man decides it best to back down but not before issuing a few insults at me and the people I am with.
We continue our path into the stadium and the relative safety of thousands of screaming Hondurans. Being a gringo in Latin America is never easy.
Pre-game activities - heavily guarded field.
Lots of activity on the field before the game begins.
The trophies arrive amid ceremony.
Fireworks from the stands before the game
The National Anthem
Game action - Motagua won 1-0 but lost the championship on points.
Our interview with CNN en Espanol during the second half.
Well, we made it to Nicaragua and back over our four-day Thanksgiving break. We took off after school on Wednesday and drove until midnight to reach Leon. Leon is a very historic-feeling city as the city itself dates back to the 1600's and it has maintained much of the colonial architecture (including many old churches) from that period. Tegucigalpa, like most of Honduras, has the colonial buildings but they are not as well taken care of and it is not easy to find the old churches in Honduras. Although Nicaragua has been beaten about pretty bad by earthquakes overe the centuries, they have managed to keep their churches mostly upright. Some are in ruins but still present, unlike Honduras which seems to believe that anything newer is better.
Leon also has murals painted everywhere - mostly testaments to their revolutions and revolutionaries. The party colors for the liberal party are also present nearly where ever you look - especially in the countryside where lightpoles, bridges, medians and just plain rocks are painted in the red and black of the Sandinista party.
The traffic in Nicaragua is much more sane than in Honduras - apparently they enforce laws and therefore, people drive in their own lanes and usually only pass when it is safe to do so. Much easier to drive although I don't recommend doing so at night as the guantlet of cows horses, dogs, people and the occasional opossom make the crater-like pot holes even more difficult to spot. Luckily we have a beast for a vehicle and it has grown accustomed to absorbing the bumps and jolts of driving in Central America.
