The Evening Spot

SANTA ROSA de COPAN--On the top of Hotel Elvir is one of the world's magic spots. The roof is a patio with a covered bar and a higher deck with tables and a very small pool. To the south are the undulating ridges of the mountains that surround this highland city. Those ridges are topped by perpetually sillouted, strangely shaped pines. There are potted palms that wave in the constant breeze and cast shifting shadows. The bartender stocks up his cooler for the oncoming night while two pretty girls in low-cut tops flirt with him. The tiny pool isn't much for doing laps but it does provide a rippling surface for sunlight to reflect off of. The stereo always plays sentimental music, Mana or the Eagles or Abba, sounds that always produce the feeling that these are moments never to be forgotten, that this moment will never happen this way again and is as incredibly precious as every moment, in truth, is.
From here the sounds of the street are muted and seem far away -- the honking taxi horns and car alarms, the barking dogs and snatches of other music. It is just after 1700 and I just heard the first rooster crow. The light has taken on its golden shade and the smell of woodsmoke fills the air as women light the fires to cook dinner for their men returning from the day's labors.