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.