Sometimes, doing nothing is exhausting.  I’m talking about the kind of tired where nothing will interrupt a sudden nap.  The kind if tired where nothing will interfere with the lazy thoughts that come creeping in from nowhere when what you need is silence.  And the kind of tired where there is nothing to blemish the lack of stressful thoughts that usually clutter the wheels spinning in the mind.

Some of this may have been the Dramamine needed to keep the motion sickness at bay during the ride down to Copán.  But most of it was the tranquility, the peace and quiet of a very special place in the verdant Copán river valley — Hacienda San Lucas.  Yes, this brief interlude from the hectic scene of life was the perfect antidote to the stresses of daily life.

It was time for a weekend getaway, so I buckled myself in and hunkered down for the long ride to Copán Ruinas and a piece of paradise in western Honduras..  It’s a 3 hour drive and there are not only a countless number of speed bumps in varying sizes as we ply our way through towns and villages, but traversing the Sierra del Espíritu Santo mountain range on the way is a challenge, especially when I’m in the backseat being a diligent passenger, never squealing or uttering a word as we wind our way around hairpin turns up and down the mountain range and zip past cars and trucks, busses and horse carts to a little piece of paradise in western Honduras, near the border of Guatemala.

As soon as we arrived in town, the most gracious of weekend hosts, Flavia, came out to greet me. With a warm smile and a kind welcome, I immediately felt the stresses of the past weeks float right off my shoulders.  But with that, I felt her stress and although I’d only known Flavia for a few minutes, I wanted to help her and hoped my brief stay would offer comfort in some small way.

“Times are tough with this crisis,” Flavia said, with sadness in her eyes, and, “I am so happy you have come to stay with us.  My assistant, Argi will take care of you.  You have no worries, you are safe here.”

I spend my days in the world of customer service delivery and in one brief moment the perfect example of extraordinary service was showered upon me.

“Our house is your house and after a light lunch, you’ll be able to relax and explore and just do whatever makes you comfortable for the next day and a half,” was basically what I heard.  “I’m sorry our yoga instructor and masseuse is away, but I understand you would like to see a coffee plantation.  We’ll try to arrange a tour for you for tomorrow, but there are not many people coming now, so it may not be possible, especially if it’s only you.”

I understood completely, and there will be more opportunities during my time in Honduras, it’s just a shame there is such trouble in this small, beautiful country these days.

But all of these problems feel far removed from here.  I feel safe and secure in the hands of the San Lucas team and sent Jorge on his way with that look he gives me when I attempt to shoo him off.  It’s a look of independent indignation I don’t mean to throw his way.  I’ve gotten used to having Jorge around and watching out for me, for all of us, but my need to be alone and to be able to just go and do and see and not be cooped without any concerns for security overcomes me at times and admittedly, that look just comes out.  I need to work on it.

Off he goes back on the long drive north to the “big city” of San Pedro Sula while I slowly wind my way up the cobblestone path with Flavia’s trusted assistant ,to the most charming hideaway among the trees.

There are only 8 rooms here in white stucco buildings with curved tile roofs and narrow wooden doors at the entrance to the rooms.  The floors are red tile and the bathroom surrounds are stone.  This is an ecolodge and as such, has limited electricity.  There is just enough for me to keep my digital lifeline(s) charged and candle holders are everywhere to softly light  the rooms at night.  There are two small solar powered LED lamps by the beds.  There is a ceiling fan and a bathroom light, but that’s it for drawing power off the grid.  It’s just so quaint and charming.

What welcome quiet it is here.  It’s magical.

A thunderstorm rolled in after lunch and it continued for hours, but the rain cooled things off and I quickly realized I forgot two important items;

• A sweater
• Bug repellant

I survived.  The former neighbors of the land this Hacienda sits on, the ancient Maya, didn’t have Deet to keep the monster mosquitoes away and they managed to get by for almost 2000 years without it.  Of course, the average lifespan was probably a bit shorter and I’m not sure Dengue Fever or Malaria were written in the hieroglyphs on the wall around these parts, but I’m not worried.

I enjoyed the sound of rain that was all around me here on the terrace and that little nap in the hammock with thunder and a few flashes of daytime lightening were a welcome respite from the hot sun after lunch.

During my day and a half at the hacienda I could hear cows and birds, rooster crows and dogs and other strange sounds from animals I can’t identify.  Sometimes there was the sound of rushing water from the river below and always, in the background, is the chatter of Spanish that I try to make out, but the strain of the confusing words is too much of a burden to understand and I let the words roll over me without understanding.  And in the morning, as I devour my breakfast, I hear a distant drumbeat.  Perhaps it’s a ghostly ritual of millennia gone by, or more likely, an event going on in town in the valley this Sunday morning.

Whatever it is, there is nothing disturbing about it or annoying.  It is just the sounds of daily life in a place so far removed from my daily life that I welcome it all.

It’s incredibly, beautifully, romantically dark here.  The soot of the candles is a reminder that while this feels like my home, many have enjoyed the wonders of Hacienda San Lucas.

I loved that when I got back to my room after dinner, the only thing lighting the way in my room were these candles.  It

In the way to lunch, I am intrigued by this guy looking over the main house along with vintage-looking saddles that I know are not just for show.

The fire is always burning in the old kitchen and when I walk in to see what might be in store for the afternoon meal, the aroma of a wood burning stove is  welcome and I hear the familiar patting of hands against corn flour and know small corn tortillas are in my future.

The years of cooking that the fire-stone has imprinted on the wall makes me eager to sit down to lunch and even more curious about what’s in store.  I spend a lot of time sitting near that kitchen, wishing I could run in and help and know that the planning of my next trip will include a spending time, hands-on, in that space.

Although almost every meal here in Honduras has included beans, these “cowboy beans” (how American of me) were the best I’ve had.  Simple.  Beans, Tomatoes, Onions, Peppers … but the rustic, smoky, vibrantly fresh flavor set these beans apart from the ordinary.

I ate like a queen, not just because I was treated like one, but the food was just that good.

There were only three guests this weekend.  The other room was booked by a mother daughter team from Chicago and seeing me seated alone at dinner, they quickly invited me to join them.  Monica and her mom were visiting Honduras for a couple of weeks and we spent the evening chatting about our travels in Honduras and elsewhere.  Strangers with a common bond — seeing the world, experiencing a beautiful little corner of the Honduras and sharing a great meal.

One thing that appeared at all 3 meals I enjoyed at San Lucas was the Adobo sauce.  Argi explained to us that in Mexico they have Mole.  In Guatemala, Pepian.  And in Honduras, Adobo.  They are all similar, but the Mole has chocolate while their Adobo does not.

It’s made with pumpkin and sesame seeds and … well, that’s the problem.  I can’t find a recipe for this delicious sauce that went perfectly with the tamales I had at lunch, the fire roasted chicken we made our way through at dinner and these beautifully cooked eggs at Desayuno (breakfast).

I’ve spent a few hours searching for a recipe, but it looks like I’ll be recreating it from the memory of those three dreamy meals.  When I get back to Hacienda San Lucas you can bet I am going to ask to spend a little time in the kitchen learning exactly how to recreate this thick and complex sauce, layered with flavors.

I’m no coffee expert, but yes, the coffee really is that smooth.  Something to be experienced here.

And finally, Flavia, Argi and team … thank you all for your hospitality.  I’ll be back.  Probably very soon — with the big wooden room key that accidentally made it home with me.  Sorry!!