I don't mind Herrera airport, even if it has got a disconcerting code (HEX) 
. Small airports fill me with nostalgia, possibly because they evoke a bygone era when the world was a simpler and much more romantic place. On a more practical note, Herrera is only 10 minutes from my house which means I can leave home at a decent time when I have to get an early flight.
Having sung its limited praises, I feel the need to report the following irritations:
If you choose to pay the US$20 exit tax in pesos, they calculate the exchange rate at 40 to 1. This happened to me last week.
On your return, there is always something that slows down the arrivals process. In May it was all the PRD botellas listening to Hippo's endless speech at the final campaign rally, and resolutely ignoring a group of waiting passengers.
No improvement under this lot, I'm sad to say. When I landed back in Herrera last week, there seemed to be at least six employees for each function. Two customs officers carried out identical checks on the luggage, while several more looked on. Not to be outdone, a large assembly of airport admin, customs, immigration and groundstaff with shiny new ID tags and particularly vacant expressions stood around staring at the proceedings, as if the routine arrival of a small flight was some kind of unusual event. There was no one of any note on the flight, as far as I could tell, so I can only deduce that they did this every time a plane arrived, possibly as a diversion from the tedious routine of intensive nail grooming or in-depth research of their cosmetics and underwear catalogues.
They might even have been zombies, in fact, because when I gave one a searching look as if to ask "do you work here or are you merely ornamental" (which she wasn't, BTW) she just kept staring right through me.
Oh yes. There's no cash to help the hurricane victims or to pay the power companies, but multiple salaries for braindead botellas? No problem.
. Small airports fill me with nostalgia, possibly because they evoke a bygone era when the world was a simpler and much more romantic place. On a more practical note, Herrera is only 10 minutes from my house which means I can leave home at a decent time when I have to get an early flight. Having sung its limited praises, I feel the need to report the following irritations:
If you choose to pay the US$20 exit tax in pesos, they calculate the exchange rate at 40 to 1. This happened to me last week.
On your return, there is always something that slows down the arrivals process. In May it was all the PRD botellas listening to Hippo's endless speech at the final campaign rally, and resolutely ignoring a group of waiting passengers.
No improvement under this lot, I'm sad to say. When I landed back in Herrera last week, there seemed to be at least six employees for each function. Two customs officers carried out identical checks on the luggage, while several more looked on. Not to be outdone, a large assembly of airport admin, customs, immigration and groundstaff with shiny new ID tags and particularly vacant expressions stood around staring at the proceedings, as if the routine arrival of a small flight was some kind of unusual event. There was no one of any note on the flight, as far as I could tell, so I can only deduce that they did this every time a plane arrived, possibly as a diversion from the tedious routine of intensive nail grooming or in-depth research of their cosmetics and underwear catalogues.
They might even have been zombies, in fact, because when I gave one a searching look as if to ask "do you work here or are you merely ornamental" (which she wasn't, BTW) she just kept staring right through me.
Oh yes. There's no cash to help the hurricane victims or to pay the power companies, but multiple salaries for braindead botellas? No problem.