Honduras, the other Central America

Gladys Nolasco is the closest thing to a tourism minister in tiny rural San Juan, Honduras (pop. 1,000). Sitting at a cluttered desk in her stationery store downtown (if you can even call it a downtown), next to a display case containing batteries and other sundries, she greets visitors and directs them to the main sights. These include her mother’s house, where you can catch a coffee-roasting demonstration, and a park with a statue of a Mayan woman who has the face of Sacagawea and the body of J.Lo.

San Juan is probably the sleepiest town in one of the sleepiest parts of this small Central American country. But I found it more exciting than San Pedro Sula, the second-largest city in Honduras and our entry point into the country. San Juan’s dirt roads evoke America’s Wild West — sans saloons and plus comedores, or small eateries that double as people’s living rooms and back patios. As my friends and I strolled past clothing stores, bodegas and concrete houses, we never knew who might invite us in for a chat — or a nap.

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• Honduras, the other Central America
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Stuff like that happens along the 80-mile Ruta Lenca, or Lenca Trail, in the western highlands of Honduras. The trail — named for the native people of the region, the largest indigenous group in Honduras — takes you through a series of small colonial villages, from Santa Rosa de Copan near the country’s Mayan ruins to La Esperanza, not far from the border with El Salvador. Along the way, you stumble upon beautiful colonial homes, churches, historic forts, museums, art workshops and even a cloud forest surrounding the highest point in the country.

“San Juan is a beautiful place,” Gladys said as we stood on a street corner with the afternoon sun beating down upon us. “We have unspoiled mountains, charming people, no crime. You go to the big city, and no one says hi. Here we hug you, we offer you coffee.”

Whereupon she gave me a hug before sending us off to explore. And half a block down, just as she’d predicted, we got our first invitation for a cup of coffee.

Island days

For a time in the early 2000s, Honduras was emerging as Central America’s more affordable alternative to trendy Belize and Costa Rica. Then in 2009, a coup overthrew the president, the U.S. State Department slapped a travel alert on the country, and tourism screeched to a halt. The political crisis is over now (the former president made a peaceful return last week), and the United States has deemed Honduras safer. I wanted to see it before it becomes overrun.

The second-largest country in Central America has a lot to offer: beaches, mountains, jungles, diverse plant and animal species, Mayan ruins and islands.

We started with the last, specifically Utila, one of three largish islands off the Honduran coast. (The best known is Roatan, where all the cruise ships dock.) I’d expected to exercise my Spanish all over Honduras, but hardly anybody spoke the language on Utila, a former British colony. We encountered Israelis, Australians, Brits and Garifunas, the descendants of slaves, but it was rare for anyone to describe themselves as Honduran.