The feria has been in the park for 23 days. I have fond memories of the fairs of my childhood... funnel cakes, ring tosses, cotton candy, farm animals, rides that mom wouldn't let me go on because she "didn't trust the crafstmenship of carnival workers".
This fair has none of those things. This fair has ten stands that all sell the same fried chicken, tejadas, and Tecate, a lot of drunk Honduran men, homemade fireworks lit in the midst of crowds, and the music... oh the music. There is a large stage that gets pulled in by a semi-truck on semi-weekly basis. Performers of Reggaeton, Ranchero, Bachata, and trance are a-plenty. This stage is about 50 yards from my window. The bass shakes my room into the wee hours of the morning and I scream into the abyss of sound.
This past Sunday was particularly bad. One stand in the park had karaoke. Hondurans LOVE karaoke. I used to love it. Now I hate it. I want to cut karaoke. Here is a little window into my experience with karaoke last night. 26 days and counting.
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