The factory I’ve hung out in Honduras for the past two days is General’s facility in Confradia. It’s a little over 100 degrees and about 85% humidity. I sat through 40 – 50 degree weather for how many months in New Jersey then come to a country that is one big sauna – but phenomenal for growing some of the best tobacco in the world.
 
What’s cool is as I sit here typing I’m smoking a big-ass Punch Maduro and as I look around, everyone is freely smoking. God I love that. I sure as hell don’t get to smoke while I work at home, but smoking a cigar while I write feels so amazing and so relaxing.

Yesterday I took the factory tour and I really almost passed out. The heat and humidity had me light headed and I drank many bottles of ice cold agua. I was told that it’s even hot for the people here, so you know it’s gotta be pretty damned sweltering. But I held my ground and finished the tour like the good little gringo I am. I’m smoking cigars constantly, one different brand and flavor profile after another.   They do things a little differently here than in the DR, different methods and such, but the result is the same. Some terrific stuff is made right outside the factory window of the office I’m working in – Sancho Panza, Hoyo, Punch, and JR Alternatives a plenty. There is nothing cooler and more exciting for a doofus like me than to pluck a freshly banded cigar from the inspector’s table and fire it up. I’m truly like a kid in the world’s biggest candy store.

It’s been rough staying in a 5 Star Hilton, but the sacrifices must be made for the good of BOTL’s everywhere. There are machine gun wielding guards on the grounds which tells me I ain’t in Jersey anymore, Toto. It is strange looking out the window, knowing you’re really in Central America. The country is very tropical and large mountains are everywhere. Soccer is the sport people literally live and die for around here and again, cigars are everywhere.

Well, I’ve been hogging Lew’s laptop and he needs it back. I’m suppossed to interview an old time cigar great through an interpreter after lunch and then tomorrow morning we’re headed back stateside. OK, OK Lew, stop yelling...here’s yer stinkin’ Mac back! (I’m tellin’ ya, he loves me like the brain dead Polack son he never had.)


We shall talk again tomorrow as I wrap up our adventure,
Tommy Z.
JR Blog With the Zman