Hello from the Atlanta airport, where the restaurant waiter seems astounded that all I want to eat is salad and bread (not that I didn’t enjoy the Honduran food). By the early hours of the Fourth of July, I’ll be back in my own bed. My photos from the village are on my camera (not my phone), so I’ll be posting the news from our time there soon.
Yesterday our mission team headed to Omoa, to visit an old Spanish fort in what was once the busiest port in Central America and to relax and swim on a Caribbean beach.
The fort was finished in 1775, after 16 years of labor by 650 African-American slaves. Their heritage is reflected in the black population of parts of Honduras. Our guide Julio sang for us, demonstrating the acoustic properties of the chapel, described the tortuous punishments for wayward soldiers, and left us alone to enjoy the fruit bats that now inhabit some rooms of the fort. Of course, I loved that!
Well, we’re boarding now, so more later.