For all of the big money that the cruise industry brings to these places, not much of it sticks to Roatan. There may be a few absentee fat cats that own concessions but the rest of them are dirt poor. Trying to take it all in from the windows of our speeding taxi, we see snapshots of people and social interaction. It’s fun to guess what they are doing and what their status might be. After a dizzying journey along semi treacherous mountain lanes without guard railings, I am reminded of the crowded hot sweaty 3rd world bus with chickens in cages ala Romancing the Stone. We arrive a private beach owned by the line. It has been groomed to match the pristine white, virginal, fine, sand pictured in the brochure leaflet. It’s all good however, and we use our swim fins masks and snorkel to delight in the shallow coral reefs. By the time we re-group on our floating hotel we all have a well earned appetite and stories to tell during dining. Afterwards we listen to Karaoke in the observation lounge and watch the danceband entertainment at the pool deck disco. We retire by midnight. It is midpoint in our grand voyage.