Livin' the Dream in Southern Guatemala & Northern Honduras

Bobby and I at our friend's bird park near the Mayan Ruins in Western Honduras.
Getting religiousousousousous with the 'Virgens' and St. Francis in Esquipulas in Southern Guatemala.
Keeping afloat in the dugout canoe on the Rio Dulce river that feeds into the Caribbean from Guatemala.

' Uh, can someone stop this jewelry buying madness'- Me at a sidewalk cafe after purchasing one of many jewelry sets from the guy on the street next to me. This was in a cool colonial town of Copan, just outside of the Mayan ruins there.
Hiking back from the zoo in Southern Guatemala. The Basilica towers in the background. At this zoo, there lived 3 lions and one huge alligator- yikes!!!!
These guys live forever and they make a lot of noise while they are at it.

Bobby and I hovering at the entrance to a cave near the zoo I told you about already. It was the first cave I couldn't go into, there were candles lit in the first room of the cave and so breathing was chancey!!!!

Ah, and finally, we arrive at the Honduran coastal town of Omoa. I hung out here with my borrowed bike at a $7 garden-hostel, as the only guest. It seems that business is slow immediately after a coup d'tat!!!

Cousins in the Caribbean

Playing Dress up for Prom

The Microphone

What better place to stand up on the mic than on a Caribbean Island?

Hole in the Wall

Why Aren't They More Perky?

I found myself feeling offended as if dejected by the lady behind the counter, expressing what I thought was absolute boredom and laziness; disdain for accomplishing the task of locating my package, giving me my change or printing my ticket to the afternoon ferry. What I have only now begun to realize is the story behind the disinterested expression. ‘ My goodness, what is her problem? Can’t she be a little more pleasant? A tad more accommodating?’
The question I see behind her eyes as she intently types a text message is, ‘ Who ELSE must I accommodate?’ My children, my husband or lover, my family, my society and now you expect me twist and to turn in order to accommodate your desire for cordiality when I carry many of the burdens of my society ? I’m the last one to be asked, yet the first one expected to listen. If I attempt to exert my authority over myself or my body, I am hissed at, insulted, manipulated or abused. We begin to callus.
The boys seem tough here, fighting and rough housing. But take a closer look. The girls are hard. They must be. The slightest sign of weakness, passivity and your autonomy, safety or choice is threatened.
So now when I am buying my ferry tickets and calling for the saleswoman’s attention, in receiving the apathetic glare, I read the story of a lone queen, drawing her line between survival and being polite.

Lovin' the River

The Garifuna Beauties of Corozal

My friend calls this the " Mermaid taking a rest".
One question, 'Relax Much?'.