chapter 27: new chapter energy (aka, i moved to honduras!)
first impressions of life on a small island with limited electricity and unlimited diving
Some people get excited about the night before Christmas. I get excited about the night before moving somewhere new.
New names to assign to familiar faces, new grocery stores to explore, new streets that I’ll get to walk down hundreds of times as part of my new routine, new societal systems and cultural norms to assimilate. I get all sorts of giddy about the unknowns that await.
The definition of “moving” somewhere is often debated, but I say, if you’re in a place for more than a month, in one stationary apartment – you moved there and lived there, even if only temporarily.
My friend recently asked me, “How many places have you lived? I mean, like, for over a month?”
I rattled off the answers:
Oakland, New Jersey (~18 years)
New York City, NY (~3 years on and off)
Florence, Italy (4 months)
Tel Aviv, Israel (1 month)
Singapore (5 months)
San Francisco/Bay Area, California (4 months in SF, 3 months in Sunnyvale, and 1 month in Marin County)
Bar Harbor, Maine (1 month)
San Diego, California (2 months)
Los Angeles, California (2 years)
And now: Utila, Honduras (2 months)
I’m here to complete my divemaster certification at what’s known as the number one scuba diving professional training center in the Americas (which also gives the amazing perk of unlimited free scuba diving for the rest of your life once you complete the program here!).
Basically, I’m going back to school – but to a school so far off the beaten path from traditional grad school that this continuing education program is underwater.
In about a month I will be a licensed professional scuba diver who can get paid to lead experienced divers on guided dives and help teach brand new divers the essential skills.
Becoming a dive professional is something I couldn’t have even imagined myself doing two years ago when I first got scuba certified. But as of a few months ago, this was something I felt like I’d live the rest of my life wondering “what if…” about. I knew I had to take time during my current career break to go pro in this sport that’s become a primary passion in my life.
The hectic nature of moving somewhere new and being only 4 days in doesn’t lend itself to cohesive, synthesized thoughts quite yet, so instead – here’s a peek into my brain with this stream of consciousness play-by-play of settling into a new country.
TUESDAY (the night before moving to honduras)
10:00am – My phone buzzes with that “1 minute until it’s time to check in for your flight” notification. I realize that I’m just 24 hours away from a new everyday life. Cue the butterflies-in-your-stomach type of excitement.
12:14pm - Saying the words “I’m moving to Honduras tomorrow” out loud on a phone call with a friend makes it feel real. Except, it also still doesn’t feel real.
2:35pm - Finish packing my suitcase (for once in my life, I’m bringing a checked bag with me!) and carry on backpacks full of dive gear, clothing fit for daily temperatures around 85˚F with 90% humidity, and little nice-to-haves that wouldn’t make the cut for a quick trip but improve everyday life for a 2-month stay: a yoga mat, decor for my new bedroom, vitamins, a foldable hammock.
4:52pm – Think about all the life events that had to fall into place for me to be able to spend 2 months living in Honduras to complete my divemaster training in so-warm-you-don’t-need-a-wetsuit waters. Thankful for getting laid off, having a windfall of severance pay to fund my travels, and so easily finding someone to take over my lease so I could leave LA – because there was no way I was ever going to sign up to do a month of diving wrapped up in 7mm wetsuits in frigid California waters.
8:04pm – Enjoying a Taco Tuesday dinner with my sister and her roommates made me wonder what sort of weekly rituals I’d start with my new roommate and the crew at Utila Dive Center very soon.
WEDNESDAY (moving day!)
5:58am - Wake up before my alarm because my body somehow just knows, and is too excited. Finish packing and load up my sister’s car to head to the airport with my three bags, including the backpack I somehow sneak in as a “personal item” that weighs a whopping 40 pounds. Airlines probably hate me. But don’t hate the player, hate the airline luggage constraints game!
7:43am - My sister speeds off to work after I hug her goodbye at the airport departures zone. Crazy that a normal Wednesday to her is the start of a new chapter for me. Just like a normal Friday for me a few weeks ago was the start of her new chapter living in Florida for the summer. Everyone, any day, can start a new life.
9:51am - Board flight number one from Tampa to Miami. Pull out my phone to watch La La Land on Netflix. Realize the scenes of the palm trees, and even the scenes of notorious LA traffic, make me nostalgic — I miss my old life there. I miss my friends there. I miss my old relationship there and the cute little scenes in this movie aren’t helping.
11:28am - Arrive in Miami a few minutes behind schedule and scurry across the airport for my connecting flight to Roatan, Honduras. Wave hello to my friend Shelby sitting two rows in front of me. Shelby and I met 6 months ago when we got randomly paired to do our rescue diver training together in Cozumel, Mexico, and now we’re moving to Honduras to share an apartment and complete our divemaster program together. Some friendships are just meant to be!
11:58am - Pilot announces we’re beginning our descent as tears spring to my eyes during the ending scene of La La Land. The ending beautifully, tragically, depicts how people who love each other might not end up together because they have to part ways to stay true to themselves and chase their dreams in different locations at the expense of the relationship. Yet, they still cheer each other on from afar despite their separate endings being different than they might have initially imagined. I’m living out my own La La Land plot right now.
12:55pm - After standing in the passport line with limited airflow in suffocating humidity for 20 minutes that feel like hours, I step up to the immigration officer and inform her that I’m here to complete a scuba diving training program for the next two months. She warns me that normally she’d only give out 30-day visas (despite it saying online that 90-day visas are normal for tourists) but “because it’s my first time” she’ll give me 60 days. Shelby meets me and says she got a 70-day visa with no commentary. Ah, Latin America – where everyone makes up rules as they go along.
1:48pm - Somehow we miraculously board the 2pm ferry despite wasting precious minutes at customs surrounded by other confused tourists being asked to fill out a form that required internet access, in an airport without functional wifi. Paid an outrageous $25 for a 7-minute taxi ride to the ferry without arguing because well, that’s the amount printed on the sign on the wall. And the sign on the wall is law. And we had no other option – the ferry to Utila only runs once a day.
2:15pm - After starting off freezing in the air conditioned underbelly of the boat, I step onto the bow and revel in the humidity, feeling like a lizard basking in the warmth. The sea breeze cancels out the heat and the endless blue in front of me takes me back to how it felt to live on a boat for a week. I continue to let the warmth radiate through me and start to hum the tune, I was made for tropics.
3:19pm – We arrive at the dock to find a tuk-tuk driver holding a hand-drawn sign: Welcome to Utila Caitlyn Lubas! There are no cars on this island, so this little tuk-tuk somehow rises to the occasion to fit 2 drivers, 2 passengers, and 6 pieces of luggage for the few minutes we chug along winding roads to our apartment.
3:40pm - Our apartment manager, Juana, concludes our house tour with a mini local history and slang lesson. The information overload about how to operate the apartment, plus the multi-leg travel journey, left me with little brain power so the local words went in one ear and out the other – but I was surprised to learn this island was colonized and owned by the British prior to becoming part of Spanish-speaking Honduras. Juana was my first impression of local Utilians: friendly, laid-back, talkative, and proud of their home.
4:17pm - Walking 15 minutes through town from our apartment to the dive center reminds me of how I used to walk every day from my apartment in central Florence to the school building in the rolling Tuscan hills during my first semester studying abroad. Nothing makes you feel more like a local than getting to know a daily walking route like the back of your hand.
5:21pm – Waiting far too long at the dive center to pay our balance for the dive training, because many of our US dollars get rejected for tiny imperfections. Quickly learning the standards of payment around here: either 4.5% fee added if you pay on credit card, or USD is acceptable but only if the bill is not ripped because the banks won’t accept that, or in Honduran lempira for the best exchange rate of 1 USD = 25 lempira. Quickly wishing I was better at mental math, but knowing I’ll still be pulling out a calculator for the first week or two until I get used to the conversion rate.
5:55pm – Paying in cash at a physical location to get a piece of paper that contains a unique numerical code that I can punch into an electrical box in my apartment to replenish the supply of electricity… that’s a first for me. But it is just “parte de” – a normal part of life – on this small little island off the coast of Central America.
6:19pm - As the sun sets, Shelby and I grab dinner at a spot that serves a local specialty called a baleada. It’s basically a soft shell taco filled with beans, cheese, and whatever else you want. One thing about Latin America is that there are a hundred different names for some variation of a tortilla filled with something.
7:14pm - Return home shocked to see that the air conditioning and fan running for just about 3 hours has depleted almost all of the electricity we were given as a starter pack. Sweat starts to dampen our clothes within mere minutes of being indoors without any AC, even at night. Time to punch in the number we purchased from the electricity dealer in town. And time to start being more conscious about what we leave plugged in and turned on. And, time to figure out how to get more jugs of drinking water… though this is often the case abroad, it never gets less annoying to deal with non-drinkable tap water.
8:31pm – It’s been dark for two hours already, contrary to the long summer days back home. Not even 9pm, but it feels like the middle of the night. Expected, but never not disorienting, when traveling to places near the equator. But, makes it all the more motivating to rise with the sun between 5am and 6am to maximize 12 hours of daylight.
I’ve always loved the saying “life begins at the end of your comfort zone.”
Some of the major comforts of home are now thousands of miles away from this tiny Caribbean island that’s slightly smaller than Manhattan, but home to a mere 5,000 people. I guess life – or at least a new chapter of life – begins here, now.
👯♀️ join me on an upcoming group trip!
🇲🇦🐪 october 5-12 = sands of the sahara: a moroccan odyssey roadtrip
If riding a camel and sleeping under the stars in the Sahara desert is on your bucket list… come along with me!
Join me, 10 like-minded strangers (who will become your new friends!), a local guide, and a private driver on an epic roadtrip from Marrakech to Tangier, stopping for an overnight in the Sahara desert, Fes, Chefchaouen, and small villages in the Atlas Mountains. Check out the full itinerary, cost, and some inspiring photos of what we’ll see – and book your spot by July 1!
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Free scuba diving for the rest of your life?! I may have to pay you a visit 👀
Wow 😲 sounds so quaint and sweet there. Honestly reminds me of Napoli 😂 we pay our utility bills at the Tabacchi too.