Just because...
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Friday, July 13, 2012
We Laughed in Cue
Honduras, June 30th 2012
It was humid when we arrived. A familiar kind of humidity. It probably had just rained, but everything was already dry and we were greedily sucking in the tropical hospitable scents of home through the rolled down windows. Home suddenly did not feel half a world away.
We took a taxi from the airport. It had no AC. We did not complain. We expected nothing more or exactly that. The road was snaky, shaky with turns, and curves. We expected nothing more or just exactly that. A slow big truck was ahead of us, grasping and gasping for air as it worked it way up a steep incline, bursting clouds of black smog. We were also grasping and gasping for air, intoxicated by another familiar smell. Our taxi stayed patiently behind the big monstrous vehicle. We had no choice but to think of wonderful things. Wonderful things can sometime magically come easily.
Honduras, July 4th 2012
It rained last night. I could smell the soil through my windows. Subtle, but distinct, it was the kind of scent that always made me giddy like a kid on a Christmas morning. We stayed quiet inside our hut of a hotel room. Everything was more subdued, even my husband's eyes, now half closed.
We listened to the rhythmically challenged sound of the pouring rain and the panting sound of our ceiling fan. The room was dark. Our camera was charging in a corner. A television set was nowhere to be seen. I was grateful for that. My addiction to it was already over the top. We needed a time off, away from each other. So that was what sanity felt like?
Almost in cue we both laughed because everything, all added together, was what it took for us to live normally. We always questioned what "normal" was, but then and then we just understood. And in cue we laughed.
It had been 4 days now since we arrived here. As of then we had always felt sleepy by the time it was 9 pm and by 6 am we were already wiggling our toes and fingers, ready to slowly seize the day, absorbing the almost forgotten sounds, smells and colors of a holiday. Or is it home?
I have finished reading two books already. One of which I barely progressed while in Houston. And now I am writing, make small notes with pen and paper of the way I feel. Of the way this place makes me feel. I think about my laptop and how I am sure she is having a time of her life too right about now, away from the abuse of my fingers. Wondrous things had happened here. I cannot wait to come back and I have yet to leave.
Our daily naps are among those wondrous things. The short sleeps I got to steal during the day are now mine to be taken for granted. Time is abundant now. Was it ever? I cannot remember.
It was humid when we arrived. A familiar kind of humidity. It probably had just rained, but everything was already dry and we were greedily sucking in the tropical hospitable scents of home through the rolled down windows. Home suddenly did not feel half a world away.
We took a taxi from the airport. It had no AC. We did not complain. We expected nothing more or exactly that. The road was snaky, shaky with turns, and curves. We expected nothing more or just exactly that. A slow big truck was ahead of us, grasping and gasping for air as it worked it way up a steep incline, bursting clouds of black smog. We were also grasping and gasping for air, intoxicated by another familiar smell. Our taxi stayed patiently behind the big monstrous vehicle. We had no choice but to think of wonderful things. Wonderful things can sometime magically come easily.
Honduras, July 4th 2012
It rained last night. I could smell the soil through my windows. Subtle, but distinct, it was the kind of scent that always made me giddy like a kid on a Christmas morning. We stayed quiet inside our hut of a hotel room. Everything was more subdued, even my husband's eyes, now half closed.
We listened to the rhythmically challenged sound of the pouring rain and the panting sound of our ceiling fan. The room was dark. Our camera was charging in a corner. A television set was nowhere to be seen. I was grateful for that. My addiction to it was already over the top. We needed a time off, away from each other. So that was what sanity felt like?
Almost in cue we both laughed because everything, all added together, was what it took for us to live normally. We always questioned what "normal" was, but then and then we just understood. And in cue we laughed.
It had been 4 days now since we arrived here. As of then we had always felt sleepy by the time it was 9 pm and by 6 am we were already wiggling our toes and fingers, ready to slowly seize the day, absorbing the almost forgotten sounds, smells and colors of a holiday. Or is it home?
I have finished reading two books already. One of which I barely progressed while in Houston. And now I am writing, make small notes with pen and paper of the way I feel. Of the way this place makes me feel. I think about my laptop and how I am sure she is having a time of her life too right about now, away from the abuse of my fingers. Wondrous things had happened here. I cannot wait to come back and I have yet to leave.
Our daily naps are among those wondrous things. The short sleeps I got to steal during the day are now mine to be taken for granted. Time is abundant now. Was it ever? I cannot remember.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Monday, July 9, 2012
Post Vacation Hangover
We just got back from Honduras. I always get post vacation hangover after every vacation (obviously). Sickness, rather. This time it is quite severe.
We spent one week in West End. It is an area in the small island of Roatan in Honduras. Life was great there. At least for that whole week. I was chained to my daily overdose of Gilmore Girls (and of course Rory and Jess) before we went to Roatan. I even had my eyes glued to the Gilmore Girls fanfiction until the very moment our plane had to leave. It was insane that I managed to not want to be connected to the internet or not crying over not having TV in the room.
I was perfectly content with the two books I brought from home. It had been awhile since I could actually really read and sleep! We always fell asleep around 9 there and wake up around 6 or 7, excited for the dives we were going to do for the day. There was not much to do there except diving and just chilling. We met really cool people while we were there, the one thing I always love about traveling.
We tried to keep every purchase in budget although we sometime went overboard with eating, as we always do. Nonetheless we managed to find a small place that sold good local food with such cheap price. Aris even learned Spanish just by us hanging out there almost everyday.
We never really stayed in one place for more than 3 nights and just dove, so this last vacation of ours was special. We did so many dives that at the end we felt so comfortable with the divemasters it felt like we were diving with friends. And they were attentive without being too nice.
Aris has been talking about doing another dive trip, destination to be announced later. He is even thinking about getting a one year leave after he finishes his PhD to travel. I'm all for that. Being back in Houston automatically sucked the energy from us. I know that's not right. That it's not about where you are, but rather how you are. Or something like that. That doesn't sound "quote-worthy" enough so I'm guessing it doesn't actually go that way. The sentence.
Anyway, we are back in Houston and I have tons of things to do. One of my dogs has just decided that she no longer wants to do her "business" outside. So I need major cleaning up to do. Loads of laundry, long grocery list, a yoga class to teach in 5 hours, and I don't feel like moving. And it's raining outside. I just want to crawl back to bed, have my Aris next to me and sleep until Saturday. I'm not ready to be back. Oh, will I ever?
We spent one week in West End. It is an area in the small island of Roatan in Honduras. Life was great there. At least for that whole week. I was chained to my daily overdose of Gilmore Girls (and of course Rory and Jess) before we went to Roatan. I even had my eyes glued to the Gilmore Girls fanfiction until the very moment our plane had to leave. It was insane that I managed to not want to be connected to the internet or not crying over not having TV in the room.
I was perfectly content with the two books I brought from home. It had been awhile since I could actually really read and sleep! We always fell asleep around 9 there and wake up around 6 or 7, excited for the dives we were going to do for the day. There was not much to do there except diving and just chilling. We met really cool people while we were there, the one thing I always love about traveling.
We tried to keep every purchase in budget although we sometime went overboard with eating, as we always do. Nonetheless we managed to find a small place that sold good local food with such cheap price. Aris even learned Spanish just by us hanging out there almost everyday.
We never really stayed in one place for more than 3 nights and just dove, so this last vacation of ours was special. We did so many dives that at the end we felt so comfortable with the divemasters it felt like we were diving with friends. And they were attentive without being too nice.
Aris has been talking about doing another dive trip, destination to be announced later. He is even thinking about getting a one year leave after he finishes his PhD to travel. I'm all for that. Being back in Houston automatically sucked the energy from us. I know that's not right. That it's not about where you are, but rather how you are. Or something like that. That doesn't sound "quote-worthy" enough so I'm guessing it doesn't actually go that way. The sentence.
Anyway, we are back in Houston and I have tons of things to do. One of my dogs has just decided that she no longer wants to do her "business" outside. So I need major cleaning up to do. Loads of laundry, long grocery list, a yoga class to teach in 5 hours, and I don't feel like moving. And it's raining outside. I just want to crawl back to bed, have my Aris next to me and sleep until Saturday. I'm not ready to be back. Oh, will I ever?
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