Albahaca.  It’s got a mystical sound to it, don’t you think?  It sounds somehow like it belongs on the coast of North Africa.

I’ve been been going through Basil – Albahaca – withdrawal for the three months I’ve been in Honduras, but as of this week, it is no longer something I need to crave.  Super Mario, one of my coworkers, looked at me in disbelief the other night when I told him I have had no luck finding the elusive herb since I moved here.  I thought it strange that in such a warm climate and tropical environment I would have trouble putting my hands on the leafy green and he agreed, telling me that the supermarkets in town definitely carry it.

I didn’t believe him.  I’ve spent my share of time and money in the markets around town — Colonia, Los Andes, Guamilito and have yet to spot the green goodness.  But Mario told me he would find it and bring me some.

Well, not only did he bring me some, but he brought me two bags of the fresh stuff AND a bunch of “long”– ancho cilantro.  This cilantro is amazing.  San Pedro Sula, you’ve redeemed yourself!    It has the same fragrant aroma as “little” or “delicate” cilantro, but it’s a bit stronger.  Warning, if you are one of those that HATE cilantro, this is not the herb for you.

I had to make a decision for dinner, would I use the basil for an Asian dish or for Pesto?  When I got home I headed straight for the kitchen and pulled garlic, ginger, mushrooms, spring onions and a jalapeño pepper.  I had defrosted a chicken breast in the fridge during the day and Thai Chicken with Basil was born.

Then it was time to do something else with the rest of the basil.  I knew it wouldn’t hold up long so last night I turned it into Pesto.  I had a package of pasta, a fair amount of garlic and a big wedge of Grana Padana my friend Bender willed to me before he left for Canada a couple of months ago before leaving for northern climes and pizza he could trust — story for another time.

But wait….that’s not all!  I had a package of mozzarella in the fridge waiting to be made into something.  I’m not sure what.  It wasn’t fresh mozzarella, but how many years did we all survive on the firm ball of cheese before we became sophisticated and learned of fresh packed mozzarella?  And no, there’s no fancy bottle of Balsamico lurking in this kitchen, but my Caprese Salad with good olive oil and red wine vinegar, fresh cracked pepper and salt satisfied the craving.

What’s so sad about all of this is that I have no sense of smell since this affliction of Ebola or TB or SARS or, well, ok, just a rotten sinus infection hit me last week.  But don’t kid yourself, for a brief moment I thought I should have the doc check for Malaria.  I’ve heard from people that have had it that it feels like a horrible case of the flu, so my dramatic self began to worry, but a couple of days of the mega antibiotic Zithromax and I was on the mend.  But a killer sinus infection means I have no sense of smell.  Zip.  Zero.  Zilch.  Nada.  Nunca.  Nyet.  Nine.  Nothing!  I’m talking about not being able to smell even a hint of basil, nor the 4 cloves of garlic I used in the pesto and the olive oil?  Well, I know it’s good because the smell of olives came through loud and clear the last time I was able to smell anything.  I’m not quite sure why I’m eating anything or why I even care, the only flavors I can discern right now are salt, sweet and sour and they are all exaggerated.   But it’s in my nature and I HAD to have something familiar and fresh and GREEN.

One day my sense of smell WILL return, although it could take months, but for now I’m happy to have the memories of what things like Basil smell and taste like and I am pretty good at making do with memories.

And there you have it, Albahaca is back in my life!

And just as fun as the bright and remarkably fresh and brilliant green albahaca has been, a trip to the beach on Sunday with a colleague from Costa Rica was equally as fun.  It was another 6 day work-week, the end of a busy one with a whirlwind job fair on Saturday and we needed to get out of town.  The resort I usually go to was full so we had to find someplace else.  We lucked into Telamar and it turned out to be a great afternoon.  The food was … meh, but the beach was wonderful.

 And the warm water of the Caribbean was welcoming and a great respite from the searing sun.  There was a bit of a rip tide and just staying in one place was a work out, but it felt good to have the sun bearing down on me while I planted my feet in the sand and tried to stay upright.

There was a lot of activity on the beach and while I can handle people and even young boys with drums dancing the Punta (on the tips of their feet), but the 4x4s vrooming up and down the beach was annoying.  The pollution, both noise and otherwise takes a bit of the “peaceful day at the beach” out of the equation, but in the end, it was a relaxing few hours and I can’t get enough of the beach, so it cured my weekly craving.

The good news is that I can come here on a day off without much planning.  It’s just a 90 minute drive north and we’re there and this time we only got stopped at the checkpoint one way.  The officer asked us to roll down the window and check to make sure we were ok and once that was done we were on our way again.  A brief stop along the way.

It still amazes me that when I plug in an address here it finds it and a route is created.  You know what else amazes me?  There is just ONE road to Tela.  There is just one road to most places.  Coming from a place were there are ALWAYS cars on the road and countless routes can be taken to get from point A to point B, the lack of transportation infrastructure always surprises me in countries like this.  I’m not surprised, I just stare at the map in disbelief that there are really no options and my mind wanders thinking about the simplicity of this kind of life — the lack of choices.  I think it would ease the stress of driving a bit, no?