Three weeks ago, I was preparing to leave Joplin for Honduras (with a stop in Kansas City for a couple of days). What a strange thought. In some ways, I feel like I returned yesterday. In other ways, three weeks seems to have stretched into a lifetime that now separates me from that experience. However, I did promise that a post would appear relating my experience, and now seems as good a time as any. Since the week that was spent there was rather busy, I think I will just post segments at a time, also to ensure that I don't spend my whole life on one long, boring post that no one will ever read entirely.
The excitement mounted as we drove to the airport in the damp, cold, dawn air. It was almost surreal to think about spending the evening in an entirely different country. Although it was early, we were plenty awake. We met up with the rest of our team in the lobby of MCI - an eclectic group of people that were somehow drawn into the mission of the ministry of one man, his obedience to God, and the products therein. The flights were uneventful, except to mention that we lost some luggage - the box containing the medical supplies and the box containing the sewing supplies. Thankfully, their delay lasted only a day.
We arrived in Honduras around three, I think. I know that our first act upon arrival and clearing customs was to eat Burger King. Naturally it was an excellent introduction to the culture... After BK, one of the women and I did venture to a legitimate Honduranean business - a coffee shop that rivals DD. It was wonderful. The streets on the way to the missionary's home were interesting, although typical of Tegucigalpa (from what I saw). There were no lawns and every house was gated. Though the gates were ornate and beautiful in many cases, they failed to entirely conceal the reminder of their purpose: to keep people out. The streets were narrow and cars were parked on both sides, making some roads a little more treacherous. In my journal, I described it this way: "Tegucigalpa is an odd blend of American 90s culture and Hispanic. The architecture is Hacienda-reminiscent - lots of reds, oranges, and pale yellows. There are no front yards here - only gated patios. The trees are blooming, with palm trees and mango trees mingling with bright purple flowered trees and trees with no flowers, just vibrant green leaves. It creates a wonderfully picturesque scene."
The missionary resides on a dead end. The front gates of the houses form a continuous wall on either side of the street, replacing anything that would be considered a front lawn with colored concrete. While the house seemed small by American standards, it was more than adequate for the purposes of the family. It even had a small pool (which seemed like more of a baptistery) and a wonderful deck (for lack of a better term) with comfortable lawn furniture (a paradise to reflect, journal, and read). It was also where we ate our meals.
Anna and I were shown to a room with two sets of bunk beds with the two other girls on the trip. The room functions as an office for the missionary when there aren't visitors, and it is right next to the missionary's daughter's room (a fourteen year old who could talk from now into eternity, and wished to especially in the later hours of the night). It was clean and roomy, although four suitcases definitely cluttered it up quickly.
After getting settled in, we met to talk about logistics, then we went to pick up supplies to replace what had been delayed. This included a frightening road trip to pick up a woman working with us for the week, a trip to the mall, and a trip to Walmart.Two rules govern the roads of Honduras:
1. Don't do anything dumb in front of the police
2. Biggest car wins
A much simpler system that we Americans have. We returned home for a much-anticipated dinner, where we met a wonderful woman who works with the ministry and lives across the street. My parents were staying with her (given the constraints on space) and my sister spent the summer learning Spanish from her. Adjectives that spring to mind when thinking of her: strong, determined, practical, passionate. She was so fun and so funny, and she reminded me a lot of my mother's mother, which was wonderful.
The evening was over before it got too late, as we were all pretty wiped out from our early start. Also, Wednesday morning came quite early, and I was glad for the extra rest of an early bed-time.
