That Dreaded "N" Word...

No, not that one silly!  As a single women who is strong and fiercely independent, I do my best to be as autonomous as a single woman can be.  I've always been this way. Even as a young girl, I held down an after school job at a dance studio, simply because I didn't want to have to ask my mother for money. As an auntie, I am constantly encouraging my young nieces to do the same.  If you want something, go after it.  Be smart. Be strong. Be responsible. Be self-sufficient.

Do we as a society, condition our girls and young women in the same manner? I'm not just referring to money here. The messages are everywhere. Stay in school.  Don't have sex. Don't get pregnant. Be smart. Be strong. Be responsible. Be self-sufficent.  And while its all well-meaning, is it possible that its all to our determent?  Is it possible that we are imparting to our young maidens not to "need?"

We've all seen the reports of mothers who freely give of themselves to their families and friends, putting their own needs last.  Clothes need to be washed, dinner needs to be cooked, dishes need to be cleaned, and the kids need help with their homework.  And after she's worked all day, and all the household tasks are complete her husband now wants to fulfill his sexual "needs."  She probably won't communicate that she "needs" a bit of quiet time to herself, and a bubble bath was more along the lines of what she had in mind.  Or if she does, then she'll feel guilty about taking time out for herself.  So I have to ask the question... are we, the independent women of the world, perpetuating a dangerous cycle to give of ourselves never expecting to have our needs met in return?

Now in my professional life, there is no problem expressing the "needs" of the client to the team that will help me accomplish the goal.  Or going to my Facebook page to ask a question because I "need" more information or a second opinion.  But let me "need" more time with the guy I am dating, or "need" for someone to have compassion for a situation I am dealing with, and I can almost guarantee that I not going to ask for what I "need." To appear "needy" in a relationship is perceived as a "cardinal sin" and I'm just not going to do it. In my mind, to be "needy" translates into being helpless or powerless.  I am way to strong and self-sufficient for that.

It's funny when you think about it... but men don't appear to have this problem. I hear them use the word quite frequently. And while they may not expect to get all of their "needs" fulfilled, the certainly don't hesitate to ask in spite of it. Whether it comes to work, play or romance, they ask for what they want, and don't think twice about the perception of appearing needy. Its almost as though they are conditioned to expect for their needs to be met. Who says men are not communicators?

Its ironic that men rely on women throughout their entire lives...first starting with their mothers and then moving on to their girlfriends and finally their wives. So where did the disconnect happen for many of us women? We were not conditioned to rely on our fathers in the same way?

So I guess I find the "need " to ask myself... at what point did I decide it was wrong to "need," rely on others or even ask for help? When did "need" translate into helplessness or powerless? And more importantly, is this the message that I want to relay to my nieces and all of the other young women who's paths I have crossed?

The older I get, the more I realize how complicated life can be.  I've always understood the power of my words, and the importance of clear communication, but there are time when actions speak louder than words. The damage may have already been done, but I hope it's not too late to right the wrong... to "NEED" can be a good thing... and it's not the curse word it used to be.

Back To My Reality... As I Choose It For Now...

Sunset at San Juan Del Sur, Nicaragua

“A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step.” — Lao Tzu

As much as I hate to admit it... travel adventures as I know it are now over. Gone is the freedom of solo travel and the allure of meeting new friends to explore new adventures. At least, for now.  Not because I choose it to be over, but because the reality of life has come to the forefront. As much as I would love to globetrot as if I were Lewis and Clark, my last name is neither, and the Johnson's of my family tree has not endowed me a trust fund in which to subsidize my hearts desires.  And yes, although I can pay bills by internet and keep in touch with family members via Skype, I do not possess the team of people that I trust to give full autonomy to my financial state of affairs to renew car registration, car tags and drivers license. My guess is that to assemble a team as such would probably take millions... millions I do not have. At least not yet anyway.  And so my reality is... to return to life as I knew it.

But the truth is, life will never really be as it was.  The reality is... experiences make us grow. Learning new lessons, and implementing them into our lives changes everything about who we once were. Mr. Albert Einstein I know would agree.  To take a page from his book...

 “The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.”

Albert was a smart man.  Every time I step foot in a new city, a new country, a new continent... I am in awe.  There is something hypnotic about experiencing the world that you've only been able to read about on paper, come to life before your very eyes. The world, if you've never seen it, is the mysterious.  And it is out there, sitting, waiting for all who are willing to take privilege in it.

Sadly, when I joined the ranks of Americans who actually held passports in 1998, I was devastated to learn that I was part of a small but elite group just over 6.5 million or 15% of the international traveling minority in this country.   It wasn't until 2007, that the travesty of 9/11 made it mandatory for Americans traveling to Canada and Mexico be required to acquire passports when traveling on land or sea.  But even then, the number only jumped to 18.3 million or 22% of the American public. Even as of this writing, only 30% of Americans possess a passport in 2012, according to a recent CNN travel article.

“Without new experiences, something inside of us sleeps. The sleeper must awaken.” 

– Frank Herbert

But the truth is, travel can be a reality for all of us who deem it a priority.  I often hear people affirm ... "you sure travel a lot!", as if it were a privilege only afforded to the wealthy. Just yesterday, I heard those very words while chatting to an old high school acquaintance.  I suppose that is because, I do see it as my reality. And for things which we ourselves deem as important... these things then take precedence.

I suppose I obtained the spirit of exploration from my father.  A truck driver by trade, he was determined to see..."as much of GOD'S green Earth as HE would allow." Despite the fact he understood it required a bit more time to travel with me, because I "couldn't just pee in a cup" like my brother... he still deemed it significant for me to experience the long trek along the Canadian pipeline to the heights of Alaska... TWICE.  As a little girl, I often resented not being able to travel with my Dad as much as my brother, and so I in turn felt the urgency to direct my aim so that I could perfect the talent of being able to "pee in a cup." Little good that did me...

But back to the point at hand... there is never a good time for change, but it is important to understand is what the cost would be if we don't.  What do we stand to loose if we don't create travel opportunities for ourselves.  By not executing a curiosity for the unknown, what message does this send to our children, nieces, nephews and youth of tomorrow...  Americans are comfortable in their own environment, and do not find it important enough to venture out into unfamiliar territory. Why on Earth is that??? In many countries, but particularly Israeli, it is considered a rite of passage to travel abroad. They do this in the year following army service, as a way to unwind from the stress of serving two to three years.  I was able to experience this first hand during my travels throughout Central America. Young Israelis were everywhere, as were other nationalities. Sadly, few Americans were to be found.

Foremost on the reasons to travel is that you discover a lot about yourself. Now I'm not talking about taking a family trip to Disney World. When I speak of a special vacation, I envision someone backpacking across Europe or driving along the coast of Australia... that is, a trip with cultural significance. Not many things in the world can inspire you like seeing the Colosseum in Rome or the Pyramids in Egypt.  Whether you're a lover of history, architecture or nature, only travel will satisfy your passion. No words can describe the rush you feel when gazing upon the Mona Lisa or admiring the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.  Experiences can range from the legendary (watching the running of the bulls in Pamplona, Spain) to the relaxing (enjoying a hot spring while snow swirls around you in Iceland), but they share one common link: they are all memorable. In every corner of the world, there is excitement waiting for you. It is simply a matter of sticking your head out and going for it.

Time puts everything in perspective for us. Can you recall those stressful milestones that once invaded your life – your first exam, your first date, your first real job?  Many of these you barely remember because in the grand scheme they’re not the significant events they once were.  Leaving your current situation may seem daunting, but in the future it may only seem like a minor event in your life, and perhaps even an obvious choice.  If you don’t make the travel change now, will you regret it years later?

“I see my path, but I don’t know where it leads. Not knowing where I’m going is what

 inspires me to travel it.” — Rosalia de Castro

Amen Ms. Rosalia! Amen to that!

Finally...I Made It!

Depicts CIA involvement in the Revolution 

After a full 48 hours of travel mishaps, although small but irritating nonetheless, I finally made it to Nicaragua. Dumped at a gas station in the middle of nowhere, I am bombarded by some six taxi drivers  all vying for a chance to win my cordobas. And while I am honestly annoyed by the pushy sales pitches, I can respect the need to hustle for the traveler's dollar amongst the heavy competition. For the winner, it can sometimes mean the luxury of having meat with the typical rice, beans and plantains for his family. But I cannot complain for it was here that I met Melanie, a sassy young Australian, who also was dumped out in the middle of nowhere. We rode for many hours on the same bus together, and never spoke a word to one another, but were now teaming up against the riot of men to share a taxi into Leon.

As it turns out, Leon is a very charming college town steeped rich with revolutionary history. At every turn you'll find evidence of a proud people fostering their wounds with pride. Colorful murals cleverly located near the university remind its young people of a past they are too young to have experienced. As I studied each one to interpret its meaning, I stumbled across one "representing the "Sandinistas" armed struggle and the CIA's role (the serpent) to influence the Nicaraguan elections. The fact that I was not personally involved in this manipulation did nothing to deter my guilt or remorse for enjoying the interesting depiction. I was American and that was reason enough. Sadly, the rest of the city was not as well maintained as one could hope for. What remains of its colonial stature, colossal cathedrals and a vibrant art scene, made it a city full of substance, and that made for a stimulating stay. Melanie and I found great places to satisfy our hunger, one favorite of ours, Barbaro, was worthy of a second visit.  A great city to experience on foot,  and in hindsight, I regret not doing a guided tour.  My main purpose for my stay was to hike and volcano board down the infamous Cerro Negro, which I shamelessly accomplished while crashing out twice. Nonetheless, it was an experience of a lifetime, one that I will arrogantly boast to my nieces and nephews once I return home.

Next on the "Gringo Trail" was the Nicaragua's oldest city of Granada, which sits on the foot of the majestic Volcan Mombacho while simultaneously resting on the dark sandy shores of Lago de Nicaragua. It's beautifully maintained colonial architecture does well representing the Spanish empire of old, and it doesn't hurt that the cuisine was to die for.  From the grand central park, to the fabulous cathedrals and cobblestone streets, this was a luminous city to explore on foot. It also serves as a great base for other outdoor excursions like exploring the nearby islands of Las Isletas, the handicrafts center Masaya, and the towns of Pueblos Blancos. This part of my adventure holds a special place in my heart... as it marks the first time I ventured out of my "solo traveler mode" to travel with a group of complete strangers that made an already awesome experience, that much more incredible.  Melanie and I quickly grew to a group of eleven, consisting our four Australians, four Americans, one Spaniard and two Israelis who were quickly dumped early on.  The Israelis need mention, for if it had not been for meeting them on the street, and recommending their hostel to us, Melanie and I would never have met the others. Since we were all traveling in the same direction, it just made sense to combine our experiences.  It was also this group that would be responsible for breaking me out of my "private room-private bath" snobbishness to share a dorm room, which was another experience in itself. Not one that I was fond of at first, but they made a believer out of me, and I was able to save a few pennies in the process.  Who knew?

After exploring Las Isletas, sharing pizza and wine, and group breakfasts at the Garden Cafe', our group of now eight traveled onwards via "Chicken Bus" to the popular pacific coast destination of San Juan del Sur which used to be a sleepy little Pacific coast hamlet, until it was discovered by backpackers and surfers as the perfect spot for beach wandering, kite surfing, deep sea fishing sunbathing... and of course surfing.  There is a laid back vibe to this town, and what originally was planned as a two day venture quickly turned into four and our group of eight now split in half to stay at separate hostels. We happened into town during "Caravana del Caribe" an outdoor night festival of live beachfront music and dancing.  This made it easy for our now two groups to convene together at night, as drinking and dancing in the streets of San Juan were right up our alley.  One night while enjoying the local beer at a beachfront bar, we watched the ending to a spectacular baseball game. Nicaragua is playing Cuba in a five game series.  "How great would it be to catch a game while we are here?" someone from the group comments.  Just like that, with a bit of planning, we were off on the next "Chicken Bus" to Managua to see the next game in the series.  Not something I would have done solo, that's for sure, despite being an avid sports fan, but being part of this group made it so much more electric. Cuba killed it in this game against Nica, and I am ecstatic that I had the chance to experience it. Blessing to my new travel buddies, Melanie, Jemma, Makensie, Carlos, Jennifer, Alexander and Daniel. Keep on Travelin'!!!

So after globetrotting in Central America for the past eight weeks, it's back to the real world as I know it. Responsibility is calling and I have a dog who is in need of his mother. Do not think that for one second, that I didn't try to scheme a way to get my dog to Central America.  If he were small enough, it would have been as easy as paying a fee for him to fly in the cabin. Sadly, it's too hot for him to fly as cargo, or I'd be on the next flight to Panama.

Who says "... Men have all the fun?!?"  Not me... that's for sure!

In The Pursuit of Happiness- Forming A Great Offense... Part 1

This month I celebrate the blessing of yet another birthday.  

My Facebook page both proudly and humbly showcases over 100 birthday well wishes from friends and family.  And while they are each individually humbling enough to bring any girl to tears… there was one in particular that made me take pause.  It conveyed:

“So I see you still have a love of the water… Blessings to you on a wonderful birthday.”

It was sent from a dear childhood friend with whom I had known since the fourth grade.  It gave pause because her exclamation brought me back to a youthful time when my career dream was to become a marine biologist.  It was this, that would later inspire me to become both lifeguard and a water safety instructor. The third of these career steps would require future certification from diving instruction. In hindsight, I’m not exactly sure how my youthful brain translated that into a career in water sciences, but back then, I made perfect sense. I knew, in my heart of hearts, becoming a marine biologist would fulfill a life long dream… and thus produce a lifetime of happiness.  

In the spirit of birthdays and happiness… There’s something that magically happens once you are fully aware that you are about to enter your forties.  At least it did for me, and for a few countless others  whom I have promised shall remain nameless. 

I remember it like it was yesterday, although in hindsight it was almost 10 years ago.   At age 36, I made the life altering decision to not have children.  Fresh out of a relationship lasting seven years that I felt sure would end in marriage; the thought of being a single parent was never even a remote possibility.  Unless my prince charming magically entered my life at thirty-six and we could make a successful run at things before I turned forty, the possibility of becoming a parent would be gone like the wind.  I searched for him, even prayed for him... but all to no avail.  

As strange as it may seem, there was almost a metamorphosis unconsciously manifesting during the three-year period following my childbearing decision.  And with that came the realization that I was living life as it came to me instead of creating the life I wanted.  As a sports fan, this translated into living a defensive life, when the reality should have been that I should be creating an offensive life.  Sure it is true that defense wins games… but it is the best offense that sets the tone for the ENTIRE game.  Set a great plan in motion, and then defend, but only as the need requires.

So at age 39, it became necessary to inaugurate a new way to think about my life’s path.  Firm on my parenting decision, and now knowing what was now set before me, another inexplicable decision was made, which would unknowingly amend the course of my life forever…  I made the choice to be happy. 

Sure this sounds easy enough, but in order to make it happen, and then make it stick, the process one subjects them to is not an easy one.  It’s not just a decision, but series of decisions, that then are required to translate into repeated actions, which should then be performed over and over on a weekly, monthly yearly basis.  

Simply stating that you want to be happy would then actually require that you understand exactly what happiness is.   Then the act of manifesting happiness in your own life takes not just an understanding of how that translates for you, but an entire journey involving exploration, that in my opinion… never really ends.

I believe that happiness is much more than the many words that describe it. Contentment, pleasure, gladness, joy, bliss, delight, exhilaration, ecstasy and glee just begin to touch the surface, once the implementation of happiness begins.  Webster defines it as:

1-To imply an active or passive state of pleasure or pleasurable satisfaction.

2- A peaceful kind of contentment in which one rests without desires, even though every wish may not have been gratified.

Now, this is just my modest opinion, but to truly possess and retain these emotions is where the true occupation lies. Keep in mind that there are ebbs and flows in every life.  Considering this… How else can we expect to know what true happiness is, if we haven’t been privy to life’s sadness and hurt?  How would we begin to understand satisfaction, if we have never been through disappointment?  To expect to remain in a constant state of happiness is simply naive.  But at the risk of exploiting a further point… I would suppose that this is where defense would play a role.  A great offense is nothing without a great defense. 

So with that being said…  first know and understand what happiness means to you.  This is a big one so feel free to take your time with this one.  It’s important.  For with this initial step, as it then becomes the foundation to forming a great offense.

Without full the comprehension of what I have just described I began to comprise a catalog or a bucket list of sorts, of the items, things, accomplishments I needed to achieve in my trek to undertake the objective that is called happiness.  And while the record has been revised over the years, always remaining at the top has always been to see the world.  So this birthday, it’s Central America.   And since diving was previously on the infantile catalog… then why not knock off the adolescent aspiration as well?  As is my usual practice, I will be celebrating all month.  Most of the month will be consumed with travel, but I will make sure to close it out at the end of the month with family and friends.  It’s just a few of the many things that I know make me happy.  But since we are talking about it…

Exactly what does happiness mean to you…???

The Beauty of Solo Travel

I got sucked in... I mean really sucked in.  The original plan was to leave on Tuesday, but there's something about this place called Utila that spoke to me. It kept saying..."Don't go DJ.... you can't leave yet!" So, I heeded to the call and I didn't leave until the following Sunday.

That's the beauty of solo travel.  If I want to change my plans... I can do just that. But the truth is, who could blame me? With these warm, crystal blue waters filled with thousands of species of tropical fish, rich coral reefs and other fabulous marine life, I just couldn't give it all up without a fight. And I am so glad I didn't... my fight won a sighting of that "yellow-spotted" string ray in the above photo.  So your not into diving, maybe you prefer snorkeling, kayaking, hiking or even horseback riding. My guess is there is something here for everyone. I held out hope to encounter the magnificent blue whale sharks Utila is so famous for, but my timing wasn't quite right.  It seems that they are usually spotted during September and October or from March to April. Oh well, such is life.

But there is truly something in the air (or water) that draws you in and makes you not want to leave this place.  Over and over I heard stories from residents who came for a visit and never left. With all the comforts of home, this idyllic spot is the perfect combination of party town and diving haven.  Not being much of a party person in my older age, I opted for the more soothing diving haven.  And if sports is your thing, there are quite a few places to enjoy them.  My favorite place to do just that turned out to be "the best dive in town..." a little place amply named... Skid Row.  More than just a cool place to kick back with a cold beer and watch the game, the cuisine was simple, but indeed quite yummy.  Everything from a slammin' calzone and pizza, to taco salads and fajita style burritos that knock your socks off, you'll find many menu items to satisfy a craving for great food.  Absolutely, a great place to meet locals, and it's owner Ryan ended up being a really cool dude, despite the fact that he is rooting for the Oklahoma City Thunder to win against my San Antonio Spurs in the NBA semi-finals.  We'll just see about that Ryan! Spurs are back at home for game five, and are gonna give them Thunder..."Some Nasty For Sure!"

With my birthday arriving this week, I kinda felt the need for a little love.  I couldn't think of a better spot to celebrate, than in the quaint colonial town of Copan Ruinas Most come for the Mayan Ruins that are within walking distance from the city's central park, but that's huge mistake.  This tranquil little spot sports an excellent collection of bars, restaurants and attractions too.  From the ultra fabulous Hacienda San Lucas with its romantic countryside eco-friendly setting, to the hypnotic Enchanted Wings Butterfly and Nature Center filled with it's amazing butterflies and 150 different species colorful orchids, you are sure to find something to strike your fancy.  If that isn't enough, try your hand at a two hour sunrise hike, horseback riding, birdwatching or even challenge yourself to a week of Spanish lessons.  There are two schools located here that have gotten great reviews, but my favorite is Guacamaya Spanish School During my one month stay in August 2011, Enrique ran a fabulous school and the teachers were all top notch, including my own maestra, Senora Delmey, who watched over me with the loving kindness of my own mother. Once again, my choice of residence is the ever so fabulous Via-Via. Quaint, with only five rooms, all with private baths, free wifi, superior vegetarian menu (with optional meat selections) awesome beer selections and movie nights for the equivalent of $1 each, this place is definitely a winner. Perhaps I'll spend my birthday at the very cool Macaw Mountain and Bird Reserve, before heading out for drinks with friends to Wine Barcito (yes, there is even a wine bar here) perhaps  ending the evening with movie night.  Tonight's showing... Chronicle. I'm told its a sci-fi flick about three high school friends who make some incredible discovery that gives them super powers that spin their lives out of control. Sounds marginal at best, but who knows what the evening will bring.

 I'll plant myself here through Sunday morning when then I am off to Nicaragua... and this time for real!

More Honduran Adventures

La Ceiba, Honduras… a vibrant, hustling metropolis whose people are just as colorful as the streets they occupy.  With less than 200,00 residents, it’s not hard to understand why this town gets it reputation as a party town.  At first glance, one would think that there not much to this place, as it’s not particularly attractive or distinctive. But dig a little deeper and you’ll find more than just a drop off point for the Bay Islands or La Moskitia. Sitting ever so proudly below its own Pico Mountain, you’ll discover not just a pulsating bazaar filled with fine drinks and fabulous food… but its people are as warm and friendly as the smiles on their faces.  Come prepared with a phrase book and a bit of Spanish to get by, as English is not widely spoken here. But make an effort and its people are more than willing to assist…if they can.

I only experienced its pleasure by accident.  The original plan was to pass through on my way to the Bay Island of Utila, but problems with the last boat from the mainland sidelined me long enough to experience just a taste of what I would have missed out on. The next boat would leave out at 9:30 am and I was bound and determined to be on it, since partying isn’t really my thing.  But when it Rome… or La Ceiba…

Utila on the other hand has a slightly different vibe… a small island once idyllic for the British elite, now known to backpackers and party people alike as a diving haven. More quaint than it’s bigger and more popular brother Roatan to the east, its inhabitants will more than make up for the lack of beaches and fewer snorkeling sites. Your pocket will thank you as well, as food and lodging are less expensive here.  The longer I stay, the more it grows on me.  At the time of this posting, I would have been here a full eight days, and I can honestly say that I am not yet ready to leave.

My main focus here was indeed diving.  Sharing the same fabulous reefs and eco-system with its more famous and noticeably more expensive neighbor Belize, Honduras is one of the most economical places in the world to gain your diving certifications.  Everything from entry-level open water to dive master and instructor certifications can be obtained here at a fraction of the cost as lesser destinations offering similar amenities. There are currently seven different dive centers on the island and each with a different vibe, but something for everyone. Many also offer free accommodations while diving.  For me, the choice was Bay Island College of Diving who did a spectacular job of walking me through the certification process, as well as their fabulous facility... even BEFORE that had my money.  Charla and Remis... Thanks for the love!  Everyone on staff, from the other divemasters and instructors, right down to Seth, our boat captain was warm, friendly and outgoing. Overall, I can sum this up as a great experience.

Should you be less interested in diving and more interested in snorkeling or kayaking, Utila can certainly meet your fancy.  If rest and relaxation is on your list, then you’ll be more than pleasantly surprised, and your belly will be satisfied too.  I have yet to have a meal that was less than fabulous.  From the street vendors and little cocinas to the more established restaurants listed in the guidebooks and trip advisor, you’ll find everything from Indian and Italian to Sushi and locale fare.  Sadly, I was here for three days before I was able to find seafood on anyone’s menu… but proudly practicing responsible sustainable seafood practices, you’ll find no pouching on this island.  Posters are proudly published all over the island.  That was enough to lift my disappointment. 

These are certainly some of the warmest people I've met during my travels.  Special shout out goes out to The Bodden Family who truly opened their hearts as though I were a member of their own family,  during my stay at the Bayview Inn.  Driftwood Cafe' had one of the best seafood stews I had ever eaten, and Joya's, Ultra Light Cafe reignited my love of "the falafael." And although its not a regular item on her daily menu, Joya’s chocolate cheesecake flan was out of this world! Care for a taste of grilled kingfish, wahoo or baracuda, then let me suggest RJ's Bar and Grill... FANTASTIC! For a quick but fabulous breakfast try one of Liddia's delectable cinnamon rolls or egg sandwiches made on a homespun sweet coconut bread rolls baked fresh daily…Oh so yummy! 

With still a few days left to dive, my stay on Utila will probably end on Tuesday.  Then it’s on to the next stop… Nicaragua!

And The Beat Goes On...

After taking months off to be a virtuous daughter, and a dedicated new author, it was now cerebrally necessary to take my heart and my head back where it belonged… back on the road.  The urge to pick up where I had left off had been calling me for months, but it was essential for me to stand in for grander mission. One which had sidelined my road trip from the start.

During a stint through Guatemala, in mid-September of 2011, I received a dreaded phone call, informing that breast cancer struck again with a vengeance. It would be almost exactly one year to the day since the surgery of my mother’s original diagnosis.  Knowing there was no way to conscientiously continue my personal journey, I took time out to pause and handle business.

Today, I can thankfully report that Mom is now cancer free for a second time.  She has since been placed on notice to not accept or otherwise incubate any form of cancer at anytime in the foreseeable future. Eating in a more conscious manner, while engaging in a slightly more physical lifestyle than the sedentary one she had been used to, was no longer an option.  To insure this happened, at least temporarily, I left my beloved companion with her, an active but sweet two-year old Jack Russell mix, whose own lifestyle requires walking three times daily.  Not to insinuate that anyone would dare wish this dreaded disease on themselves or anyone else for that matter.  But making this declaration while taking my stance was my way of exercising my faith.  ("Faith without works is dead..." James 2:17 NKJV.) Throwing my demands out into the world to be heard and manifested, I have always believed in the power of words.  It is in large part why I decided to become a writer. ("The power of life and death is in the tongue." Proverbs 18:21)  But as an added insurance policy, a heart to heart with His Royal Holiness was needed. ("The effective prayer of the righteous man availeth much." James 5:16) And just like that in my heart I recieved, “the cancer will not kill her… although you just might.”  With my quick confirmation, I now believed I had permission to carry on.

I was lucky enough to catch the tail end of a airline fare war that required leaving out on the very day of my mother’s last cancer related doctor’s appointment. I’m not sure that sat well with her. I’m not sure that would have sat well with me either, had the situation been reversed. It bothered me to leave town on what could be a pending thought that implied I just had to take to first flight out to get the heck out of dodge.  This was not the case in the least, and a $150 savings in my flight costs partially justified my guilt. Nevertheless, this forty-four year old woman would succumb to the pressure, print the email, and explain my decision, all to avoid any drama that could potentially be lurking at some unknown point in the future. Luckily for me… the truth worked, at least for the time being.

With that being said, arriving on a flight that should have landed at 1am into San Pedro Sula, Honduras, didn’t until 3:00am, because of storms. The original plan was to get a hotel room for the night, knowing that there would be a bus at 9:30am. But under the current circumstances that didn’t make much sense considering the first bus out to Tela left at 5:30am.  Perhaps there was no need for a room, but was it wise to sit parked in the public terminal of an airport that was well known for it's  pick pockets and thieves, even despite the police presence with guns in tow? Surely there would be others that would be forced with the same dilemma until the bus and cab drivers were ready to report for duty. As I pondered my dilemma, a consoling awareness covered my body like a blanket, reassuring me that all would be well.  As luck would have it, a sizeable, yet amicable "gringo" by the name of Bobby, fresh from his American roots in Alabama, took a liking to me.  A 12 year resident of Talanga, just outside of Tegucigalpa, this formidable southern giant looked as mean as an ogre, but in actuality, was as gentle as a lamb.  It didn’t take long for me to comprehend that he was my blanket, but the irony here was, it was Bobby who was comfortable enough  to catch a hour-long nap, and I would be the one designated to watch over our belongings.  Some how, I was okay with that.  As I diligently stood guard, I noticed another less formidable gringo walking to and fro, but in a very unsettled manner.  I made sure to keep an eye on this one, as his clearly he was wrapped too tight.

As luck would have it, my less formidable gringo went by the name of Tony. He and Bobby were plane-mates a few rows behind me during our flight, and had already agreed to split a cab to the bus terminal. He too was nervous about the wait, and exhausted from the flight, he knew that if he sat down long enough, he would fall off to sleep. Tony decided the best way to not become a victim was to simply keep it moving. At 5:00 am, the  first cab drivers arrived to take us to the bus terminal, and as previously agreed by the two gingos, the three of us would split the $15 cab ride.  $5 per person was hard to refuse. As we parted ways at the terminal, it was my less formidable gringo, who took the second shift assuming the responsibility of my blanket.  It turns out that we were both headed in the same direction, and he promised Bobby that he would keep me safe.  God works in mysterious ways.

The guide book I am using for this trip called my beach destination, Tela…“a hot mess with sinister appeal."  As much as I hated to believe it, their description was sadly quite appropriate.  Barely on my second day, and I had yet to find anything to entice me to stay a third.  Void of all character, the town was divided into an old and new section, separated by only a bridge and the captains that parked their barges below it. To make matters worse, there was nothing "new" about its "new"section. Trying hard not to pass judgment so early on in my visit, I really searched hard to find the good within it. On the surface, it's beaches and town were both disappointingly dirty. My search to dig deeper uncovered only that's its people were cold, the food was average, and most of the service around town was marginal at best.  With two exceptions worthy of mention, Cesar Mariscos’ restaurant, whose ceviche was slammin’ and customer service was stupendous, and  Mango Café B&B, who despite the language barrier, made an effort to find someone whose English was just as bad as my Spanish and yet managed to make it work with a smile.  My travel guide made mention that English was spoken at most places.  Most of those people must have gone on vacation, knowing that I was on the way. I suppose this means that I must work harder on my Spanish to avoid the handicap. Oh well, lesson learned.

Next up La Ceiba and Utila Honduras…