Surreal moments in Copan Ruinas

The center of Copan Ruinas, much like a European predecesor, consists of a town square, replete with non-functional water fountain, Mayan sculptures, the requisite church, a museum, and food hawkers. It is a place to hang out, buy ice cream, sit and enjoy the sun (or shade, depending on how hot it is), and sometimes the entertainment. Since we've been here, we've wandered through the town square every weekend to find some sort of activity going on. From the very well attended church function to the visit from the President who was handing out money (but didn't actually show up) to the telephoneless telethon to raise money for something for children's heart issues, we've wandered through an amazing array of activities. Last night was the one, the amazing, the Coca-Cola Feliz Navidad show.

The show was supposed to start at 4 PM, we heard. Having learned the realities of punctuality in Honduras, we arrived at 4:30 to a stage still being set up. Alex enjoyed the recorded music over the loudspeakers, but I promptly grew restless and wandered the 2 blocks back home to make a rice and cheese dinner. Returning 45 minutes later, I was just in time for the opening act. A little Jose Feliciano, anyone? No? Well, how about Michael Jackson instead? Apparently, MJ is huge in Honduras, a little known fact that I was unaware of. I wonder how impressed my students, to whom I have yet to reveal my true age, would be if they knew that I grew up with Michael Jackson. I was still a kid when the big "Thriller" dance video first hit MTV. I remember the white glove, the moonwalk. So, now we are here in Honduras listening to "Billy Jean." The band moved on to Spanish songs, then the show moved on to events for kids. Santa arrived and threw candy, some girl got a big gift basket, and lots of kids got bottles of Coke. A dance troup came out, highlighting, of all things, Michael Jackson songs. (Just a minute, didn't MJ endorse Pepsi? Was that just a bad memory?) The mime, the real magician (the most magical being that I was actually able to understand a lot of what he said), and I was about to call it quits when the band returned and an excellent gentleman singer came out and started singing real Spanish language Christmas Carols. "Tuki tuki tuki tuki" had a familiar ring to it, as well as "We wish you a Merry Christmas," as we'd just sung those in the Christmas parade (although I admit, I was prone to ignoring the signing during all of the rehearsals as I had my mind on lesson plans and quizzes I was going to squeeze in before the holiday break). The singer sang a little while, involving audience members young and old, once asking if everyone in the audience spoke English ("Yes!" I wanted to shout from the back of the crowd, "I speak English! I know the words to 'We Wish you a Merry Christmas!'"). When he left for a little break, a violinist came out, playing, to Alex's delight, some latin music that eventually sequed into Pink Floyd's "Another Brick in the Wall" and we descended into Surreal Honduras of unknown time, unknown place, where we are somehow still just another brick in the wall. We accomplished a major first here in Copan Ruinas. I have never heard Pink Floyd played on the violin. Mostly Pink Floyd with hints of Charlie Daniel's "The Devil Went Down to Georgia." After that, because who can top that?, the singer came back out to join the violinist and the band, and, finally, sang Jose Feliciano's "Feliz Navidad," which, thanks to last week's caroling, we now know the words to. He then sang a couple of songs we didn't know. Finally, for an encore, the bass player suggested the extremely appropriate and seasonal cheery favorite, the Spanish version of "Oh Where, O Where Can My Baby Be" (aka "Last Kiss"). You know the song, first sung by Dion and The Belmonts, then revived by Pearl Jam, where the singer's girlfriend dies in a car crash and he prays to be good so he can see her again in heaven. Surreal Honduras. That's what it is.

It is worthy to note that Alex and I are quite good at getting ourselves into situations where there are likely to be famous people that we are completely incapable of recognizing, thus leading to things like Amy insulting Vanilla Ice the last time we went to Costa Rica. I'm guessing the singer and the violinist are actually famous in Honduras, but we have no way of knowing if they are.