Forward Motion

What gets me about endings is how abrupt they seem. It's not so much that time goes by like a tortoise or a hare; it is when I can say that I am coming home tomorrow. Tomorrow. 

We had our last retreat at Lago de Yojoa and took a tour of a waterfall. My senses are still on the fritz from that one. 

I know I should make two lists: one of what I'll miss about Hondruas and one of what I'm looking forward to in the States. But I'm not going to. I'd leave things out. Forget a few memories. 

I'm trying to see how to merge these two worlds. Yes, there will be things that are solely available in Honduras - strawberry chicky cookies for example. These are different experiences, cultures, and value systems but they have all occurred in my one lifetime. 

All events in my life have occurred in sequence, obviously. Why would I treat this semester the same as adding navigation to a car? It's not a bonus or an extraneous circumstance. It happened. It is now every bit of my past as getting chicken pox, breaking my wrist, or learning how to walk. 

It's hard writing that this semester is now my past. That puts a finality to it. Pretty soon Calvin will be in my past. Then my first dog will be a memory. I am realizing the implications of forward motion and my inability to stop it. 

Ultimately, it's not about living in Honduras or living in the States; its about living, breathing, enjoying, seeing, being. 

Practicum

You know those cartoon characters that shake their head after being hit with a mallet with stars and squiggles making them all dazed and confused? That's what I felt like Saturday morning waking up and realizing that yes indeed, it is December.

Nonetheless, this past week and this coming week are a little different. We've finished up classes, are done journaling for obscene amounts everyday, and can see the light at the end of the tunnel - or whatever analogy you prefer for eminent endings.

These two weeks are devoted to a time called Practicum. It's unique to the Honduras program and a great experience. Throughout the semester we've studied topics, done visits, and talked to people in the development field. When one of these trips our trigger we (hopefully) get to see in it action for two weeks. Kurt and Jo Ann arrange for us to have quasi-internships for two weeks to see what people are doing in our areas of interest.

About a week before we were supposed to be heading out, our class took a trip to Tegu toys. A company that manufactures high quality wooden blocks with magnets inside (read: hours of blissful entertainment). We got a tour around the factory and chatted with co-owner, Chris about using business as a tool of development.

This tripped my trigger. Sparked my interest. Tickled my fancy. You get the picture.

Now, I am spending my Practicum time with the lovely people of Tegu and am learning a whole lot. I get to use some knowledge and experience gained from my internship and am talking to the workers on their lives and how Tegu has impacted them. It's also a tool to see how personal future endeavors could be taken on our respective fields of interest.

(Please excuse this shameless plug, but indeed, I must.) They're super fun toys and there are some in the office that I play with during lunch break. If they can entertain a twenty year old with a divergent mind, then I'm sure they will with a child of the same mindset. Check out their site to learn more about their mission and the products.

Side note: I am currently working my way through John Adam's biography by David McCullough and a Josiah Bartlett was mentioned. I then proceed to yelp when I made the connection of "That's President Bartlett's relative in the West Wing! They really didn't make that guy up."

I hope everyone had a splendid Thanksgiving filled with hearty meals, lively discussion, and beloved others. Ours was celebrated on Saturday with all the fixin's and a joyous time was had by all.

Take care, All.

Deserving Thanks

As much as I would like to sit here and list off things that I'm thankful for, I can't. I have to be honest with you. This is a struggle living down here. I want a hot shower, the roosters to stop crowing at three in the morning, and a travel thermos full of fresh brewed joe.

I have begun making a list of luxuries that I am going to treat myself to when I return home in under a month. I would never question this thinking. I keep telling myself, "Addison, you deserve this. You have lived in Central America for four months."

Do I, really? 

I have this thought that we (myself undoubtedly included) put a quota on how much a person must "suffer" before receiving "luxuries." It's an entitlement factor. I have endured enough, so now I may go back living the same because for four months I lived an un-Western lifestyle. Why would I ever subject myself to less than what I deserve, what I have worked for, what is my basic right? 

This is where our thinking gets in the way of our actions. We think self-entitlement; we act self-entitled. We think humbly; we act humbly. 

The truth is that I don't deserve anything. God, my provider, has been rejected, scoffed, and ignored countless times because of my selfishness. He had every right to end my physical, emotional, and spiritual possessions because they're rightfully His, correct? He worked for them, he made them, that is what he deserves, right? 

I am thankful God doesn't think like I do. I am thankful he has grace which is infinite. I am thankful God doesn't think that he deserves our love; He longs for it. He's able to function without us, but that sentence cannot be reversed.

When I sit down to our Thanksgiving dinner (on Saturday because Central America wasn't involved with the Pilgrims or Native Americans) I am going to be thankful for lukewarm showers, roosters who don't know better, and the cup of coffee my mama graciously serves me every morning. Yes, that's what I'll be thankful for. 

Not so daily life

As I've been coping with a faint bout of homesickness by online browsing and looking at pictures of corgis, I realize that there are many things in my life here that are not so normal to my description of a day. This is a counter to my last post and these are just a few things that have made the past few days much more… amusing.

James Bond. It is a Smith Thanksgiving tradition to see new James Bond films when they come out. Since they'll be mourning the loss of my presence this year, I saw it before all of them and rubbed it (respectfully) in their faces.
Election night at the Intercontinental. The Ambassador was more than generous to invite our group to the swanky hotel and be in a crowd of other Americans as we watched the results being tallied. Also, to continue the college student stereotype we promptly took advantage of as much free food as we could.
The weather. I got sunburned and dehydrated on November 17. I can still feel heat radiating off of my shoulders. It would surely melt the snow they have back in the States.
The wedding. Last Saturday my family celebrated a wedding. I had little clue as to why my older sister came into town and why people were running around with bobby pins until I saw the bride step out of my sister's room. I quickly finished breakfast and tried to stay out of the way as the embodiment of "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" came alive in my home.
Nicaragua. On our last getaway out of the country we took a quick trip to Nicaragua. We made haste by visiting an active volcano, an adorable colonial town, lake Managua, and the largest market in Central America. Then caught our breath after getting across the border. 

Official goodbye-hello countdown: four weeks from tomorrow!

Also, if you're interested in other Calvin off campus programs or want to see other student's experiences don't forget to check out my friend, Erin Smith's blog on her semester in Hungary! She has fantastic pictures and is an English major so her syntax is spectacular. 

Daily Life

To get a feel of what (daily) life is really like down here I'll run down a quick schedule of happenings in Santa Lucia.

7:15 am - Catch the bus from Santa to Tegus. These precious twenty minutes are either filled with catching up on reading or playing helicopter on my Alcatel phone circa 2005. 

8 am - Arrive at the Pedigogica University where we take classes. We generally all grab a cup of coffee (or two) before heading off.

8:15 am - Spanish class. There are only two other students in the class, so it's necessary to pay attention to Profa Litza. She is quite a lady and always has great photos of her dog, Hipster. Yes, her dog is named Hipster. I did spell that correctly. 

9:30 am - Snack break. This generally consists of splitting cheetos puffs or having another cup of coffee. We all stay well caffeinated. 

10 am - Begin development class with either Kurt or Jo Ann. Every day we have readings and then class over the assigned topic for that day. Sample topics include: developmental theories, land rights, drug trafficking, transparency, short-term missions, child sponsorship, agriculture, fair trade, proposal writing, micro-enterprise, just to name a few. It is during these classes where we have some passionate dialogue or little revelations over facts that require a double-take. I feel blessed to study development intensely for a semester while also having visits and speakers from those working in the field. It's truly a unique experience.

12:30 or 1 pm - Lunch. Our building is near the cafeteria and a grocery store. We spilt up and fill up. 

2:30 pm - Catch the bus back up to Santa Lucia or shoot the breeze with some curly fries near the bus stop. We indulge in a little American food now and then. 

3:30 pm - Begin readings for the next day, play with puppies, watch Kardashians with mi mama or pop in an episode of The Wire.  

6 pm - Eat dinner and then resume either productive or unproductive activities depending on how much I got done before dinner. 

9 pm - Asleep. Generally aided by a Grisham or Cussler novel. 

Nothing too exciting. We certainly do work and it is not a slacking semester. It's a lot of reading, bonding, and bus riding. But there are quirky things are not so everyday but I have come to believe they are:

1. The MLB Postseason. This is a little dated, but the playoffs were a major bonding moment for mi mama and me. It was over our mutual dislike for the Yankees and love for the National League. 

2. peanut butter- a lot. My family has this jar on the table of peanut butter. Probably 20 oz. and only I eat out of it. This is a great way for me to track my consumption of that wonderful stuff. 

3. puppies. My dog, Bella, had five little squirts on a few weeks ago. They just started walking and are now loud enough for me to hear from my window at night. Still handfuls of adorable. 

4. a dog barking. This is really nothing new except for the fact that it only barks at gringos. It's on my way to the bus each morning, and it's always a lovely sight.
5. Unburnt toast. I think Jo Ann unknowingly put me with a family that makes toast exactly the way I like it. Sightly golden brown but not crunchy. Not sure how my Mama knows this about me, but it's something that I have been astounded by this whole semester.

Enjoy your Sunday everyone! 

Fall Break

I would first like to apologize for two things:
1. My three week absence. Time flew and deadlines were hastily met.
2. Giving you the impression that all we do is travel- which is partially true. But I promise to make you think otherwise in my next post. Also, I am writing this as a display of procrastination from homework (proof that we do more than backpack).

Aside from the antics and my need to justify actions, let's get to the part where you get jealous, assuming you love lakes, oceans, and bumming around the Caribbean.

We first began our adventure in Gracias, on the northwestern side of Honduras. It is a quaint little colonial town and a few of us slept in, drank coffee, and enjoyed the view of this old fort while we waited for two of our more adventurous vagabonds to climb the tallest mountain in Honduras. I admired the pictures on their return.

A hop, skip, and a chicken bus later we were in Roatan. It is one of the Bay Islands off the north coast in the Caribbean and a very popular tourist destination. We even saw a Royal Caribbean liner in port on our ferry out! It is an interesting place because it is technically still Honduras but everything is owned by expats and everyone speaks English. In all honestly, it was a bit of culture shock to have the ability to overhear conversations. Quite odd.
While in Roatan we snorkeled, rode some mopeds, and played countless games of Trivial Pursuit Young Players Edition.
The game can be dated by this one question.
     Q:What is the largest country in the world?
     A: the Soviet Union.
A step down from the 1986 Genius edition I have been seasoned with since a young age at Smith family gatherings. I unfortunately could not carry on the family torch to victory. Apologies, Grandma Jean.

Rounding out the batting order is Lago de Yojoa. I believe it is the most beautiful place I have ever been. The lake  runs right at the base of mountains. We spent nights at a gringo-owned brewery which crafted the best Pale Ale; we spent the day on a row boat in the middle of Lago de Yojoa with novels and nature. It was one of the moments where I wished life had a "pause" button.

I almost forgot! A big, special thanks to all of those wished me a happy birthday. That happened while we were in Roatan, so white sand beaches and Clive Cussler were adequately involved. I've got two decades down and many more to come God willing!

Enjoy the photos and have a (not too scary) Halloween!

This was a marvel! We were in the middle of Honduras and I screamed at the sight of a Pella Windows and Doors truck! I felt some Iowa pride in the moment! 

At the entrance to the fort there were little ruins, and this guy adorned with a little facial hair.

View from the Fort in Gracias. On the upper right is the mountain (slightly covered by the clouds) that the two ambitious people climbed. 

Roatan. 

Lago de Yojoa. 

 

Guest Post: The Parents

I, Addison, am relinquishing my Five Senes over to the parental units. They came down for the weekend and we had a fabulous visit.

In all honestly, I did not expect them (cough cough, my dad) to go so overboard with this project. I didn't get a hold of a draft until after "Hearing" and then I strongly encouraged brevity; then I applied my own sort of brevity - the delete key.

Hope you enjoy it. If not, I'm back next time. 

Time for a guest post from the Gringo visitors from the North.

This will be a poor substitute for Addison's insight into all things Honduran, but Donna and Bob are giving it a try.  Here we go with Five Senses -- 

Hearing --

• we welcomed Honduras with the loud applause of our fellow passengers aboard Delta Flight 849 on Thursday. It is unsettling when the passengers are overjoyed when the pilot gets the forward thrust of the aircraft under control before we run out of runway.  I used to view that as automatic, but once you saw the airfield and surroundings -- you find out its not necessarily so.  
• listening in with Addison's International Development class on Thursday night when a Honduran from the professor's neighborhood came in and told his tale of illegally immigrating to the USA.  A strong Christian man trying to provide for his young family by working hard -- and America gave him that opportunity. It was fascinating to hear such a story from his perspective.  If only there was a way to harness the desire of those who are motivated, hard working and well intentioned.  No easy answers to this one.

Touch --

• the extremely bumpy surface of the cobblestone streets in Santa Lucia and a 50 lb. checked wheelie bag careening down a 20% grade for what seemed like six miles (but was probably 300 yards).  The wheezing was Bob trying to hold on for dear life and lugging it up a gentle grade to La Posada de Dona Estefana (The Best, Most Exotic Honduran Hotel).
• the shock of lukewarm (heck, it was cold) showers with the electric-assist, heater head.  Bracing!!
• a warm hug from Addison's Mama upon greeting us, as she hosted us at her home on Friday evening.  What a lovely lady and welcoming family. Addison is in very good hands!!

Taste --

• fried plantains for breakfast along with eggs, beans, and fresh coffee. 
• SalvaVida beer - cold and smooth
• fresh tortillas

Smell --

• corn cooking in early morning for masa . . . and fresh tortillas
• sweet breads and rolls at Teguc Central Park

Sight -- 

• the unbelievable number of private security persons packing heat outside nearly every store of any consequence -- even delis, Burger King, etc.
• twinkling lights of Teguc at dusk -- like tiny LEDs.  Like a Robert Kincade painting -- only real.

Our trip to see Addison and her Honduran classmates and their program was a great success.  The program is in fine order, the instructors are terrific folks, the kids are really special and we had a great time visiting them.  Three and one-half days were just about enough!!

We invite your continuing prayers for Addison and the Calvin Honduras Semester youth.  They are learning much - academically, culturally and about themselves.

We look forward to having Addie back on December 17.

Above. Addison and Bob on the balcony of our hotel in Santa Lucia.

Above. A view of Tegus.

Above. Donna and Addison enjoying a Honduran style lunch on Thursday: rice, vegetables, chicken, and tortillas. Bob opted for some quesadillas or 'gringas' as they're referred to locally.

Above. View of the Catholic church of Santa Lucia.

Bananas, Maquilas, and Ruins - Oh My!

This weekend was jam packed with good. We had the coolest field trip I've ever taken.

Here's a run down through the senses:

touch: a banana tree! Our first stop was to a Chiquita banana plantation to see how they grow, package, and ship their product. The visit was very interesting considering they've been growing bananas pretty much the same way for about 100 years.
taste: poundcake, bananas, and coke. The ladies at the maquila union were so enthusiastic to have us. So much so that they filled the table with many goodies. Their stories were inspiring and a testimony to labor rights' ability to dramatically affect many lives. The point they pounded home was that we have a choice as consumers. We have the power to reward the company who compensates their employees properly.
smell: large mammal manure. specifically, horses. We had a free day once we got into the town of Copán and chose to ride along the river and up to a field. We were promptly bombarded with small children. Picture of this are below.
hear: the white noise of a factory! I was so excited to put on earplugs properly (thanks to the EH&S team at Vermeer) and walk around a heavy machinery. We visited a maquila and a plant where they turn thread into cloth. The processes and how their lines works were very interesting to see and contrast with other plants I've seen. I was most surprised about how much manual labor is put into packing. Because of company policy, we were not allowed to take pictures inside the factory.
sight: Mayan ruins of Copán. I cannot due justice to these with words or pictures. But I'll display a few shots from our visit below.

Oh, and my parents are coming in Thursday - tomorrow! They're bringing funfetti cake mix and microwave popcorn. I'm pretty pumped.

Housekeeping: I understand that the blogspot comment system is tricky to navigate. If you cannot figure out the system or are just super frustrated (like myself) - email me instead! addie.smith22@gmail.com. I recieve it much quicker and can respond with greater ease. 

Thanks again for reading and following! I really appreciate it.

Take care and enjoy the 15,000 words worth of pictures. 

Gringos taking off of the streets of Copán on horses. This is a frightening sight.

One of the many spectacular views on our ride. 

The cause of some soreness for the next two days. Still worth it.

Before running into ruins we ran into some macaws. They were so cute - and slightly frightening at the same time. I kept having flashbacks to The Birds. 

Warning: I may have gone crazy with the panoramic function. It's just too tempting!

An artist's demonstration of what Copán would have looked like back in the day.

The Japanese had been doing more excavation projects within the city and this exhibit just opened up last month. It's a residential area where they think families of the rulers lived. Above is a representation of the area. Below is what the area looks like now. 

Lastly, there's a museum which houses a lot of the original pieces they find throughout the city. They're kept in this museum to make sure that mother nature doesn't erode them more than 1,400 years she got already. 

Home

Home is a situational term to me. And a fabulous Michael Bublé song.

After being in Honduras for a month I begin to reference my house as "home." It's a beautiful thing really. There was a house here with a woman and her daughter. Now there's a home with mi mama and Paola.

I have many homes. Pella, first and foremost, because that's where I spent a majority of my adolescence. Calvin because I live, study, work, and eat there (although I do eat better in Iowa). And now I believe in a few short months I could call Honduras one of my homes.

Home to me is more than a building with people, love, and food on the inside. What makes a house different than a home is what you leave there. The more I invest myself in a new place and culture the more I leave some of me here. When I say goodbye to this home, bits and pieces of my life will be scattered throughout. 

What puzzles me about my own definition of home is that it's ad hoc. Sure, I know that Pella will be my city of refuge for years to come, but where does the line draw between that home and the other? If I am constantly moving, changing, and adapting to my present "home" where can I find some permanency? Do I need to? Is being cosmopolitan better?

This lack of a permanent home can lead to wandering and "soul searching" - if you will. Without a firm sense of identification in a constant there will always be another place, time, or destination. My constant: the fact that I am a beloved child of God. That's how I am able to define many places as my home without feeling like a nomad or incomplete. 

I have this theory that home has to do with identification. It's where you leave yourself for future reference. When I return to Pella I know who I am there. My identity has been shaped and refined. When I return to Calvin, I'm still learning about myself. It's the internal battle of incorporating my past and my present. In either case I look back on events, places, people, or memories which give me a sense of belonging. I begin to identify with what's most relevant and comfortable.

This does leaves me confused though. I began writing this with the intention of ending with a slightly predictable conclusion of roughly "my home is home, but my eternal home is heaven." This is true. What I am searching for here is the constant in my definitions of home. The only thing crossing my mind is how God met me at each. 

It really is a beautiful thing. 

El Salvador

Our directors are awesome and switched some classes around for these two weeks so we could have a four day weekend. Which means traveling. Specifically, to El Salvador.

Getting there took a bit. And by a bit I mean 14 hours. It's normally 8. 

We got held up on the border because our van didn't have plates - just registration. So they had to drive another van from Teguc (about 4 hours away) so we could continue along our merry way. Our group got some quality time in by moping in the van for another 4-5 hours drenched in sweat. It was nasty. 

Once we got into El Salvador it was fantastic. It's lower than honduras, but there's still mountains. utterly beautiful. Some of the most gorgeous countryside I've seen.It's more developed than Honduras and it shows. The houses are painted brighter colors, the little tiendas are nicer, it's just upgraded. Plus they take USD. That's hard to beat. 

Down the road from the hostel that we took over was a little restaurant. We had breakfast, lunch, and dinner there for two days. They loved us. All for about $3 a plate. I love pupusas. Plus they had the best coffee I've ever had in my fully caffeinated life. I had five cups of joe in three days. For $.35 each it knocks Starbucks out of the water. 

The beach was a 5 minute walk from the hostel. We did very little for two full days. slept, bummed around, and I logged easily 12 hours in a hammock. black sand. We were at one of the best surfing spots in central america so it was ripe with beach bums. It was odd seeing non-nationals everywhere, but we met some nice ones. I didn't feel like an anomaly for once. 

That's just a quick run down. I was jawdropping at the scenery so I may have forgotten to take pictures. I got some from another group member. Enjoy. 

Above. Driving and maybe knowing where we were going. 

Above. We got held up by this herd of cows and bulls. That's normal right?

Above. On the way home we stopped at this restaurant that had a little zoo in the back. These two guys were great company for dinner.

Above. Further down the beach was this little gem. 

Above. A five minute walk on the beach brought us to Tunco, a little cluster of shops, restaurants, and hotels. Gringos galore. 

Above. More countryside on the way. 

El Quince!

Yesterday was El Quince (the fifteenth) - Honduran Independence Day! Because of that there were parades everywhere and here are a few snapshots of the day. 

Being the parade junkie that Tulip Time made me, I was quite happy all day. Although it was much different than children in Dutch costumes and tulips, I still enjoyed the parade without blisters from wooden shoes!

Above. Some baton twirlers at the Santa Lucia parade. Every band has these girls in skirts and sometimes heels shaking it. Just looks exhausting to me. 

Above. Little pomperas! There were so cute and their poms were bigger than them!

Above. Children would also dress up as future careers aspirations. These little tikes wanted to be fairies or princesses!

Above. Down in Teguc we caught the part of the parade of men in uniform. 

Above. Look rifles! Took me back to the glory days of color guard. 

Above. This is what a typical marching band looked like. They would stop in the middle of the parade and have a jam session then proceed along their merry way. There were no Steering Committee members to usher them along. 

Above. This is not what a typical band looked like. Nonetheless, they still knew how to break it down with banjos and even a double bass was thrown into the mix. 

Above. La Bebida del Peru! We stopped in a grocery store, I saw this and then immediately wanted to call my brother and his fiancée.  

The Good, the Bad, and the Tasty

sight: fireworks! It's independence day tomorrow and they had a little parade to kickstart the festivities and capped it off with fireworks. and the marching bands here have a lot more style and better foot work than I could ever muster while carrying quints.

taste: here's what I had for dinner the other night. This is pretty typical: beans, fried plantains, over easy egg, salsa, ham, and tortilla. I was hungry y la comida.. ¡que rico! mi mama is one fantastic cook. 

touch: I am now feeling culture shock. I have the greatest urge in the morning to want to pour myself a bowl of cereal. After venting to Kurt and Jo Ann, I have been diagnosed with a classic case of culture shock. It manifests itself in different ways. Mine: breakfast cravings.

smell: for a while I couldn't. some allergies caught up to me and I spent Wednesday being "that annoying person in the back of the room constantly sniffling or blowing their nose."

hear: awesome class discussions. We've been getting into theories of development this week. This always sparks debates over pros and cons and puts us in some need grace and patience. 

There will be pictures to follow soon of the Quince parade in Teguc tomorrow. Stay tuned!

Amapala & the Five Senses

The title sounds a bit like a 50s du-op group.

I know everyone was waiting in anticipation all day Friday for my "Five Senses Friday" post only to be sorely disappointed. My condolences.

No hard feelings because we had a gorgeous, relaxing weekend in southern Honduras on the Pacific coast at a little island - Isla del Tigre/"Tiger Island." The surrounding town is Amapala.

Here's a recap of what I experienced throughout the weekend.

sight: John Grisham and a hammock. I have successfully finished two of his novels (Pelican Brief and The Accused) in about six days. Dad would be so proud!

taste: saltwater. Gotta love when waves catch you off guard with your mouth open.

touch: black sand between the toes. It's a bear to get rid of and I looked covered with chocolate sprinkles for a day, but oh so worth it!

smell: Fresh fish! Having the whole catch (eyes, tails, the works) of the day served up on a plate to go viking style on it. I would've taken a picture, but only thought about that after I was finished. 

hear: Karoke. The restaurant where our hotel was apparently has this little ritual every Saturday night. The owner came out and sang his best versions of spanish love songs circa 1960. 

For dessert, pictures with captions on top.

 

Above. Four smiling faces as we were within eyesight of our destination. 

Above. This is the little boat to shuttle people from the mainland, Coyolito, to the island. The approximately 90 lb. man collecting fare would walk along the outside of the boat. It was pure skill. 

Above. This is the scene as we propelled away from the island. 

Above. Another panoramic. I'm slightly abusing this camera function.

Above. Adios Amapala. 

Hope this post finds you all well and, if you're at Calvin, enjoying your second week of classes!

Geeking Out

The past couple of days in class we covered two of my favorite things: Politics and Economics. Who doesn't love a little corruption and free trade agreements?!

Our class has diverse opinions on the subject of politics and we got into a great discussion yesterday. It was cut short by a fantastic guest speaker who gave us more background on why Honduras is the way it is politically. One word: history. 

Plus Kurt made a suggestion to watch the West Wing - checkmate. Already done. 

Two visits we have gotten to make as part of class are to the US Embassy and the Honduran Congress. The Embassy was awesome and loaded with information and lots of seeing what they are there for. Honduran Congress was my personal favorite (the group is divided). They brought us through the building and then we went to the legislative floor, sat in the chairs, talked on the microphones, all that jazz. Even took a vote to see if we should applaud for our speaker! 

If you are geeking out at this two paragraph summary let me know and I'll gladly get you some the readings we've done.

This past Saturday a few of us went up to Valle de Angeles for the day. It's a cute little touristy town with lots of souvenir shops and a great central plaza (pictures below). It is a pretty well known POI for mission teams or other gringos in the area. Which was odd spotting other non-Hondurans and being able to understand them. I will buy a hammock there someday. 

My older sister, her husband, 3 year old, and 6 month old have been visiting for the past few days from Southern Honduras. Sunday I got some bonding time with the baby in a hammock. Life was great until his abuela came along and I had to give up Jorge. 

I hope everyone's Labor Day weekend was a relaxing success! Take care. 

Here are some pictures of our little excursion to Valle. 

above. little plaza park thing we found. super cute. 

above. aren't they cute?! Yay for candid photos!