So focused was I on the ancient Mayan ruins at Copan, that I was not expecting anything from the modern town. Merely eight blocks square, a buzzing plaza with a church, an airstrip and a soccer field, Copan is quaint, the ruins less than 15 minutes delightful walk away. Narrow streets hug the contours of the hill the town is built on, lined on both sides by colonial houses with alluringly decorated courtyards. Hole-in-the-wall eateries are sprinkled through out the town and immaculate art galleries showcase local artisans, and not output of Chinese manufacturing machines. The town is untouched by modern tourism.
I owe my travel to the Mayan ruins of Copan to Catherwood.
While the Guatemala-Honduras trip was being finalized, I came across The Lost Cities of Mayas in a local Half Price Books. The cover intrigued me so much that I bought it without any further thought, ignoring the oft quoted idiom that warns me to be careful in such circumstances. The subtext beneath the title “The life, art and discoveries of Frederick Catherwood” meant nothing to me at the time. I had no idea who Frederick Catherwood was. (A very fine decision it turned out to be indeed. The book sells at Amazon at 15-20x the price I bought it for.)
Later that night, I thought I would quickly browse the book in bed. Minutes turned into hours of intense reading and researching until the sun reddened the Redmond sky.
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