JOINING THE OMOA EXPATS BEACH CLUB, PLAYA SUNSET BAR, OMOA
Feb 27 '02 (Updated May 09 '05)
The Bottom Line Stop in for a beer and a bite. It's at the better end of town.
It was the Canadian Flag sticker on the door that got me into the small beach bar/restaurant in the first place. It was the warmth and hospitality of the owners and regulars, for the most part Canadian Expats, that had me come back throughout my stay in that town little. The town was Omoa a quaint little fishing village on Honduras' Caribbean coast. The bar was Playa Sunset Bar
It had been an eventful morning already, starting with waking up in a sleazy seaport in Guatemala and then crossing the border in a pick up truck. That had been followed by a couple of hours on a kidney destroying rural bus ride across some of Honduras' more primitive dirt roads. If Honduras and Guatemala ever find themselves at war, this particular frontier is safe. No invading army could ever transit that road easily.
Then there had been the farce in getting a room when I'd finally reached Omoa(see links below). Now checked in and unpacked, I was finally in a position to actually enjoy myself. Mind there was one little problem.
I was wearing a pair of sandals, a bathing suit (shorts not a speedo) and a pullover wind breaker. These were the only clothes I possessed this side of Toronto. I'd given everything else I'd owned to a nice Dutch hostel owner up the road to wash.
It was only after I'd done so, that I realised she may hold a bit of a grudge about my declining her generous offer to sleep on her floor for the same rate as her other paying guests. This was compounded by the fact that I was now checked into a room at her main rival's establishment.
Something told me that I may be doing the rest of this trip in the altogether, almost. That is unless of course I could find the local equivalent of a Sears or Walmart in Puerto Cortes the nearest city, and get there without getting arrested for indecent exposure. On the plus side If all my clothes were gone, my backpack was going to be a lot lighter. I'd also have plenty of room for souvenirs.
The reason for my apprehension was she'd told me my laundry would be ready in two hours. That had been three ours ago and I'd just checked and it still wasn't ready. I'd spent the first two hours strolling around the beach, and grabbing a quick lunch at one of the dozens of local beach hut restaurants. Now though I was at a loss for what to do.
I really didn't want to stray too far in case my laundry ever did become available. However it was getting hot, and I was attracting attention strolling up and down the town's one main street repeatedly
I was just about to head back to my hotel and wallow in the air conditioning and satellite TV when I saw the sign on the door of Playa Sunset . No not the Canadian flag, I saw that second. The cold beer sign was the first that caught my eye. It looked closed, and as it turned out it was, but I tried it anyway. Something told me that it really didn't have a dress code or if they did I wasn't in violation of it.
The small Canadian flag decal on the door was matched by a full sized flag suspended from the ceiling. The bar was full of men doing what men should be doing to avoid the noon day sun, drinking beer in a dimly lit cool bar. It turns out the place wasn't technically opened until the evening. Those around the bar were the owners and a couple of friends who were spending the day engaged in some renovations and improvements to the place. They had stopped for a brief cerveza siesta at about time the workmen had gone home to their families to enjoy a more traditional form of siesta
I was of course invited to join them for a libation and of course needed little further encouragement. When they found out I too was Canadian that too was cause for another libation. The two owners Brian and Henry were Canadian expats as was Peter who had just moved down there with his wife Susan and their kids. I took a little ribbing when they found out I was from Toronto. Most of them being from western Canada. However it was soon after that the name on my bar tab went from being in the name "Toronto guy" to "James."
I won't say I spent all my time in Omoa at Playa Sunset but I was there every night I was in town. I ate a couple of meals there and polished off my share of cold beers in the wee hours of the morning. I felt comfortable there and was made to feel welcome almost from the first. To me that's a sign of a good establishment.
I ate dinner here one night. Fantastic fresh shrimp and at a very reasonable price. I think my bill was under $10.00 US and that includes a cold bottle of Port Royal Cerveza or two. incidentally it's not just good food and drink the place offers. Check out the selection of local handicrafts made by locals for sale.
The expat community in Omoa seems a bit divided. The Europeans are grouped at one end of the beach where their establishments are, and the North Americans, Canadians and Americans at the other end near their places. In the evenings it seems, at least at the north end one place becomes the local hangout where everyone gathers. It wasn't always Playa Sunset, and we did move over to give the neighbours some of our patronage.
The conversations were good ones as I recall as we all sat around, each enjoying the adult beverage of their choice. Local politics, home, and a little good natured ribbing by either Canadians or Yanks at the other's expense. My arrival and that of Peter and Susan had shifted the balance of power at the north end of Omoa. The Canadians now outnumbered the Americans at least temporarily, and I don't think they liked it.
While I was there several renovations and improvements were in the works. The morning I left Henry had driven into Puerto Cortes to pick up a new computer. That night the place would have Internet access for a nominal fee. Up until then only two other places offered that in town.
More importantly was the large palaypa beach hut they were just finishing up. It was across the road from the bar and right on the beach proper. When finished it would serve as a beach bar. It's open concept would be perfect for enjoying a cool drink when the sun went down. Come to think of it would be an excellent place to sit and watch the sunset from.
The bar itself was to be made out of an old weathered boat stood on end with cabinets and shelves built into it. The tables were to be old wooded cable spools half buried in the sand. This would add a nice rustic charm to the place and definitely be better than the cheap plastic lawn furniture usually plastered with beer ads that seems to be the norm for such establishments.
It was more than a little regret that I dragged my sun burned carcass out of Omoa a couple of days later bound for the mountains of the interior. I seriously considered abandoning my plans to see the Mayan ruins of Copan and Tikal and just spend the next couple of weeks lazing about Omoa. When the time to depart drew near I figured I could retrace my steps up the coast and make a speedy run to Belize City in time to catch my flight home. In the end I didn't, and tossed my pack on the local bus to Puerto Cortes and jumped aboard.
Oh my laundry. I eventually staggered over to pick it up a couple of hours later. It wasn't ready so I had to hang around another half an hour and then ended up folding it all myself. She also "forgot" to hand me back my change of about $2.00 from the bills I paid her with.
Playa Sunset Bar, Omoa Puerto Cortes Honduras CA
Tel: 504-650-9166, email-henrybelts@hotmail.com
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