Dr. Wife and I are on the penultimate day of our cruise, one last day at sea before we get back to Tampa, and then Charlotte, and then South Carolina. It’s been a really enjoyable trip before she starts her “big girl” job post-residency.

We’ve had several stops on this cruise, including two in Mexico and one in Belize City. Our favorite stop, however, was at Roatán, Honduras.

Roatán is an island off the coast of Honduras. It has the feel of both an island and the mountains, as it’s essentially a forty-ish-mile long mountain range with a width of only four-ish miles, so you’re pretty much in the “mountains” when you set foot on shore.

The day we landed in Roatán, the weather was overcast, but quickly turned rainy. The rain then morphed into a torrential downpour mere minutes after got out of our little Hyundai tour bus at a place called “AJ’s Monkeys and Sloths“; it’s the kind of place where I’m pretty sure the owner and his family live on the premises and charge admission for people to see guinea pigs, spider monkeys, and sloths.

It was pretty awesome. The rain was intense, not unlike the sudden downpours we’ll get in South Carolina on a really hot, humid afternoon in late summer. The soaking rain gave the whole visit something of a festive and adventurous feel. At one point, a gust of wind knocked loose a tarp, which fell upon Dr. Wife and me, which was humorous and only hastened our steps into a cage with a large parrot.

The staff was amazing. They spoke the best English of any of our various tour guides on the trip. Apparently, Roatán has a large English-speaking population. Lots of places had English names attached to them, and Dr. Wife and I cracked up to learn that Bojangle’s—yes, the Southern fried chicken franchise—was ubiquitous on the island. I did a little research (talked to AI), and learned that Bojangle’s experimented with international franchises, and the only one that worked was the initial one in Roatán, where the English-speaking population, coupled with the popularity of spicy fried chicken in the Caribbean and Central America, made it an instant hit.

We also visited an iguana farm, but because the rain cooled things down so much (Dr. Wife actually had the heat running in our stateroom when we returned), they largely stayed in the trees. On a hot day, they apparently descend from the trees and bask and feed on the shore. Also, they are a delicacy, and our tour guide told us that, if prepared properly, they taste “better than chicken.” The owners of this particular iguana farm raise them to protect them from the cook’s pot, so it functions as a sanctuary. They also protect tarpan and some other local fish species that are popular with Honduran cooks.

There was one really obnoxious Boomer grandma on the trip with her two young grandchildren. She kept asking annoying questions in that voice that George Costanza’s mom has, but even more irritating. The cruise line indicated the tour was about four hours, but the actual tour was around three-and-a-half. The lady piped up and asked if we were going to lunch. You could almost hear a mental groan from everyone on the bus. I actually said, “no” from the back of the bus. I’d like to think I was something a a hero that day.

Regardless, here’s a little video about all the stuff we saw in Roatán (including the Boomer lady):