There's No Place Like Home...

5:00am Monday morning arrived pretty early. Actually, it arrived at the same time it does each day; I just hadn't seen it in a while. Glenda and I left for the airport at 6:30. From there, my journey took me from Kansas City, to Dallas, to Miami, and finally to San Pedro Sula.

The flight from Miami to San Pedro was great. The plane was less than 2/3 full. I ended up having all three seats to myself. Lovely. I spent most of the time reading. I had started The Help the day before and was already completely engrossed in it.

As we began our descent into San Pedro, I looked out the window. Then it struck me: I had never flown to Honduras at night. Our flight from Miami took off at 6:45pm and was set to arrive a little more than two hours later at 7:00pm -- because of the time change. So, while I was looking out the window I saw all the lights and starting thinking about how different things were today from my first trip here in 1995. There wouldn't have been nearly as many lights visible then. And most of them would have been from fires, not electricity.

In fact, as I was looking at the towns and villages spread out before us, I thought how, in the darkness, they looked just like any other town in any other state. It wasn't until lightning would light up the sky and I could see the ruggedness of the surrounding mountains and a bit more of the features of the towns that I realized I was not in the US, but in a Third World nation.

Going through Immigrations and Customs was a breeze. For the first time in years, though, the Customs agent opened one of my suitcases. Apparently the shape of the two Cuisinart citrus juicers in my suitcase prompted her curiosity. In just a moment, thankfully, she was adequately satisfied that my juicers posed no real threat to security and I was on my way.

Sandi was waiting for me. Heck, the minute I turned my phone on, as soon as the plane landed, she called me. She was trying to see if the flight was really going to land since the outbound Taca flight had just been delayed by three hours and many people were milling around the airport, waiting to see if they'd get to fly out that night or be told to come back in the morning.

We decided to drive back to Comayagua, rather than stay in a hotel. Tuesday morning we have a staff meeting and it's hard enough to stay on schedule around here, so we didn't really need another reason to cancel or reschedule the meeting.

Soon we were cruising along the dark highway, on our way first toward El Progreso, then out to the main highway and finally home to Comayagua. It was raining just a little bit, but not enough to even keep the wipers on. Just the occasional pass of the blades was enough to clear off the windshield. That didn't last long, though. Almost as soon as we were through El Progreso, out where the road gets a bit more isolated, and much darker, it started raining. Pouring! And that made the windshield start fogging up. I told Sandi that I'd fiddle with the defroster and try to find that 'sweet spot' so that she could just drive. Many times the road was not visible at all.

When we got to the village where we have to detour and go over the one lane bridge because the main bridge was destroyed by an earthquake in May 2009, we followed the car that was a bit ahead of us. "Hmmm, this doesn't look like the right road." "Where's the pulperia that's supposed to be on the corner?" "Um, this road is way too narrow." Then the car up the road stopped. As we got closer, we saw that it was actually a moto-taxi letting some people out. Then as she started to turn the car around, Sandi saw three guys out walking toward us. In the pouring rain! That's not usually a good thing. We were both praying!

Back on the correct road, we quickly found the bridge and hoped that no one was trying to come across from the other direction. The bridge is one lane, pretty rickety (it was originally damaged during Hurricane Mitch in 1998) and about 300 yards long. We proceed slowly, inching our way through the 6" of standing water on the bridge. Soon we were back on the road and making our way over the final stretch before hitting the main highway.

It was a huge relief to be on the main highway, and even though it was still pouring and the road was still not quite visible. Every few minutes we would see lights in the distance and realize there was a truck ahead. The trucks were creeping along, even slower than we were. The hard part was, they were kicking up so much junk behind them, but we couldn't see past them to risk passing. Kind of like a giant game of "Chicken".

Somewhere in the lake area, thankfully, mercifully, the rain ended. From there, it was smooth sailing back to Comayagua. In fact, even though it's not always a good idea, it can be a lot easier to drive the highways at night. There are very few cars out and you can usually see the lights of oncoming cars when you are going round and round the mountains. Except for the cars (or trucks) that have no lights.

We were back at Enlaces around 10:30pm, and soon had the car unloaded. My suitcases? Well, at this point one suitcase is empty (with much of the contents strewn around my bedroom) and the other is still sitting in my living room. I'll get to it. Soon. I promise.