“We should come home from adventures, and perils, and discoveries every day with new experience and character”

I was looking through my pictures of our travels through Honduras and Nicaragua trying to inspire myself to share a story that might be interesting or enjoyable to read.  Scanning the photos I came to realize why I felt I had no pictures that really capture the trip.  In the defining moments your either having to much fun to stop and take a picture, or on the other end of the spectrum, your far to frightened to pull your camera out.

It's been a minute I think since I've wrote about the trip, so here's a few things that are maybe defining me, and giving me strong feet.

Surfing in Nicaragua.  It was blown out, not so nice conditions, but man it felt good to be in the water.  Even though my novice skin got a killer rash and the currents and rips were a little scary; Ian stood up! So we have another surfer in the world.

Arriving in Tegucigalpa, Honduras at 11:00 PM, racing through the ghetto in the back of a taxi to our "motel" seriously hoping our taxi driver isn't going to kill us or pick up anyone else (all I see on the streets are prostitutes).  The motel in the middle of the city close to the bus stations, kind of feels like a prison.  You walk through the front gated door, down about 30 feet to the front desk, across a dingy lit courtyard, and into a room lit by a single light bulb with no windows and 3 locks on the door.  It was secure, which was a plus.  Natural light, not so much.

Walking through sketchy neighborhoods in Nicaragua to get to the Spanish meeting.  Then sitting down at the meeting and realizing how fast you were walking while simultaneously noticing that none of the fans in the hall are working and it happens to be the hottest month of the year.  I think I almost sweat through my tie that night.

Sharing in the ministry with the brothers in the different English groups in Nicaragua.  Seeing firsthand the zeal of other need greaters and locals learning foreign languages. I truly think the best way to walk the streets of a foreign city is out in service.  Not only do you get to see true life but you get to talk to the people as well.  A surprising amount of Nicaraguans are learning English.  Also you get to learn about and get to know your brothers.  The zeal infused group in Granada, 17 publishers strong, covering there entire territory, spanning Granada, in the campaign.  Scrunching in the back of there one pickup truck and giving a small helping hand was a joy.

Riding down the side of a volcano on a wooden board with a metal bottom.  I figured something for tourists wouldn't be that frightening but this wasn't just 100 foot slide.  You slid down the side of a volcano!  Good times; we just had to hike up and do it again.  Next time I'm going with one of the companies that have the boards you can stand on though.

Border crossings (sigh).  Oh we'll always remember the days with a border crossing.  Those are long tiring days.  And no I don't want to buy anything from your cart so you can quit ringing the bell.  We all see you standing right there! (Seriously this guy rang his bell continuously for minimum 20 minutes).  Playing ignorant and stubborn, the latter coming rather naturally, when border guards try to hit you with a "gringo" tax. Can't blame them for trying I guess.  They got me in Mexico.

Memorial with the Granada group with 65 in attendance. I sat next to a man who was studying named Pablo.  Pablo's been in jail in both the States and Nicaragua.  Aware it's time to change his life, he showed up at 6:30 AM for memorial.  When he realized his mistake, he came back again at 6:30 PM.  Pablo knows he needs to be there for his 9 year old daughter, 6 months ago he got beat up and stabbed.  But now he's taking a lot of positive steps in a better direction.

On our first day here we met a man who felt it was to much of a hassle to come to Mexico because he had to fill out a customs form and the people spoke Spanish.  After 3 months, here is what I think,  What an idiot!  I don't know what, if any, profound changes may have taken place in myself and Ian over the past few months.  Only time will tell.  But I can say it's been an adventure!

Ian doesn't know the birds are plotting an attack.

Ian shooting the curl! okay not quite but he's standing!

Volcano surfing, Cerro Negro

Need greaters in Leon

Spanish meeting w/English group in Granada

loading up the truck in Granada

And that is a monkey on the boat

Goodbye Belize (Sad face emoticon)

The ground swell from the ocean rolls underneath the boat with such ease and power it's better not to linger on our precariousness.  Ian and myself have once again found ourselves at sea, I suppose that makes us sea men by now.  This time out past the reef in a boat with 3 props, 3 captains, 1 customs agent, and about 25 strangers who have one thing in common with us.  Honduras.
We'll be on the boat for about 5 or 6 hours in total. I see the reflection of Belize in the water.  Like everything, like I knew it would, like I really didn't believe, Belize flew by like a warm summer day.  It's truly surreal to think that we're leaving what has became our home.  It's definitely sad to leave, even more so than I pictured it'd be at the start.
It seems as if the past few weeks has been filled with goodbyes.  Friends we made here were going home.  Ian's mom and Jodi, Keana, and Keo's visit came and went.  Not without it's highlights though (Including a beautiful picnic in the jungle, service in villages, cave tubing, zip lining, some great food, and being energized by the positive spirit of the visiting sisters).  Then we had to say goodbye to our roommate and friend Derrick who was going out preaching on the Cayes for 5 days (it's too soon to talk much about that). Then finally our last meeting came, and we said goodbyes there, not knowing when we will see some of them again.  Each goodbye had one thing in common, it came too soon.
In this entry I'd like to wrap up our experience in a neat little package that properly communicates the experience of being down here.  Unfortunately, if that is possible, I am not a good enough writer to accomplish such a feat.  So here's a pile of clippings spread across the floor of a Honduran hostel.

The people in Belize, if I had to sum up in a word, are superabundantlyfantasticallykindgenerouslovelylovely people.  We were privileged to see Alan's first part in the theocratic ministry school. Alan is the first Garifuna man from Seine Bight village to accept the truth.  We also got to go out in service with him, and another local brother Roger, their first times participating in the field ministry.  We also got to see Roger's wife Siripohn, one of the sweetest people you'll ever meet, out in service for the very first time just a few weeks ago.  We were at the baptism of two very established locals, Geno and Olga Leslie.  (Remind me to tell you about our ride to the baptism when I get back, classic Belize).  The small group in Placencia Village has had it's problems, but we were here at a time when we got to see Jehovah really blessing the group, and the locals stepping up regardless of attempts by Satan to discourage them.
We were privileged to spend time and associate with Steve and Telma, who've been in full time service in Belize for 30 years.  And yes after 30 years in Belize, they are definitely characters.  Presently Steve is the only elder in the group and they both serve as special pioneers, and I think they know about half of the people who live in Belize (that is a realistic estimate).
Tony (Big Tony) and Casey who've been in Placencia for 2 years are a huge stabilizing force to the group and have sacrificed much to come to Belize.  Losing to Tony one on four in volleyball was a humiliating experience though.  Then we even got to know our contacts from Colorado much better.  Keith who is a community staple always witnessing at his coffee cart and giving fine parts at the meeting, (just watch out for those hips when he's salsa dancing, they are dangerous).   And our buddy Derrick who I hope to serve where the need is great with again in the future.  We really couldn't of asked for a better roommate to have down here.

If the brothers and sisters were the only part of this trip it would of been more than enough. (there is so many other need greaters who I'll tell you about another time, i.e. Michigan girls, Team Oregon, the Brits, the other Brits, etc.)  But on top of that we had a productive, truly enjoyable ministry.  People here aren't in such a hurry for the next thing, they actually take the time for a real conversation and have a refreshing respect for the Bible.  Bible students and return visits that it broke my heart to tell them I wasn't going to be coming back, but one of my friends will.  Irma, a Mayan lady, who always excitedly got out two chairs for us, her books, and even when her boys came home for lunch she'd make them sit quietly until the study was over.  Rastine who always would take a break from selling jewelry to have a study and even the very first time asked me to say a prayer.  Conrad whose whole family would sit in on the study. Even his wife who understood very little English would sit and listen. 
On top of the enjoyable ministry, you can't forget about the after service and Monday afternoon volleyball games, Tommy's fried chicken with Marie Sharps and Ketchup (it's good trust me), snorkeling, spear fishing,  fish fry at Roger and Siripohn's, lunch with Geno,  fresh caught Tuna from Kevin, Gelato at Tutti Frutti, Siriphohn's Thai food Friday, Futbol with the Brits, afternoon tea with the other Brits, Snickers and Coca Cola never tasting so good, bonfires by the beach, hitching rides, riding your bike everywhere else, and etc. etc. etc.
To sum it up.  Yes man, it was real nice, for true.

I'll have more pictures soon hopefully.  My connection here is painfully slow, so it took forever just to load these three. 

Geno and Olga post baptism

Roger and Siripohn, with Roger's brother Ervin in the middle

The boys and Geno

Oh Captain, my captain

Myself, Ian, and Derrick are all huddled together on the deck of the boat.  Wedged in nicely with barely enough room for our sleeping pads we make a sad attempt at sleep as the wind whistles back and forth across the old fishing boat.  It's pitch black, sometime past midnight, Geno calmly comes from his cabin and looks at the compass.  He goes back.  Then about 5 minutes later he comes out again and looks at the compass.  We stand up to get out of his way but are still basically in his way.  The three of us standing there with our bedding next to Keith who has strung the hammock across the deck attempting to sleep swaying in the wind.  Not realizing the seriousness of the situation we stand there groggy and confused for a moment staring at Geno.  "Guys we need to move!" Geno finally bellows out.  For myself at least as a novice boatman, this was the first time I realized we might be in a treacherous situation.
The next 15-20 minutes are difficult to describe, but just imagine chaos on an old fishing boat in the middle of the night, with circling gusts of wind, drifting anchor-less in the Carribean sea, as our anchor has been bent backwards and is useless at this point.  Amid the chaos we get the engine going and are able to find some mangrove to drop our emergency anchor next to and a near catastrophe is averted.  We lost no people, but did lose a hand line, an air mattress and a couple pillows.  The air mattress taunting us as it floats just out of reach . . . twice. With nothing left to do we huddle back onto the floor and attempt to sleep away the remaining 3 or so hours of darkness.
Thus went the first night of a simple boating trip with Geno, his wife Olga, his son Paul with his friend called "Palace", although it sounds more like "Paulus", and then myself, Ian, Derrick, and Keith.  The day was fantastic, catching 50 pounds or so of fish, snorkeling, and just sitting back and enjoying the rhythm of the ocean, as we slowly barrel our way through the surf in the aged 20 foot fishing boat.
The next day we enjoy a delicious breakfast of sausage, eggs, beans, and fry jacks while reflecting on the tumultuous events of the previous night.  We chat with Geno and Olga about there life before and after learning the truth. Both have the goal of soon being baptized. Geno's family owns about half the peninsula, at least at one time, and was known as a hard nosed businessman for years.  In the words of his brother, "He was a wicked, wicked man."  But knowing Geno now, I'd never be able to guess he was anything but what he is today.  Good-hearted, always ready to laugh, share a meal or share a story of old days, and always eager to talk about Jehovah.  People in the ministry when seeing Geno, or "Babe" as he's known in the village, are shocked to say the least.  Some take pictures of him, one lady even coming up and touching him with her finger to see if it's really him walking around with a tie and a Bible.  With this formerly rough figure, we now sit on the open water, fishing, eating, and talking about how much better life is for him and his wife these days, than the ones former.
That afternoon the weather turns rough again.  Too turbulent to return to the mainland as was originally planned.  It's been about 30 hours on the small boat, and I think we're all dreading another night on it. Fortunately Geno knows everybody on and around the peninsula.  And some of the Cays (small islands, pronounced keys) scattered across the ocean are large enough for people to live.  We drop anchor at Crawl Cay, which is about half sand, half mangrove, with two guesthouses and one caretaker living on the island.  Yes one man lives on this near abandoned island.  An old fisherman who speaks thick Creole and is appropriately named Coral, Geno knows him of course.  Hospitably he says we can stay the night in one of the guesthouses.  We play around with a deflated soccer ball for a couple hours, cook up some Ramen, and go to bed early for one of the best nights of sleep I've had.  Oh it was so glorious.
We leave about 5:30 the next morning and finally make it back home about 8:00 o'clock or so.  I once read that there is two kind of adventurers: those who go truly trying to find adventure and those who go secretly hoping they won't.  I still have yet to sort out on which side I stand, but I do know that this adventure was a whole mess of fun.

Yep, this is the boat

Driving the boat! What!

chatting with the captain

moments before Derricks "near death"(according to him) experience snorkeling

Doesn't really capture how beautiful and blue the water is

Derrick and I were looking at an adorable island puppy here.  It thought it was the only puppy in the world

Olga, Derrick, and Coral and his boat that got really close to sinking

Geno, Keith and Tony at Corals on the Cay

Geno

Olga not only put up with a bunch of boys but also fed us! Yum!

Yes that is a small couch on the back of the boat

More deep blue and a reef

some fish we caught

Amusing games with a soccer ball on the Cay

Bicycles are almost as good as guitars for meeting women

My friend Gilbert enjoys communicating with a combination of sound effects and pantomime.  25 years old, eager to learn new skills and see new places.  Just one of the many good-natured and personable need greaters we've gotten a chance to know in Belize. 

Placencia is a small town but trudging up and down the streets time and again can get a little tiresome.  Thus when your friend Gilbert says that he knows a guy in Dangriga who can get us a deal on a bicycle for 110 Belize (55 US dollars), your ears perk up.  Soon thereafter, myself, Ian, Gilbert, and Carl and Matthew, the Brits as they are affectionately known, board the 1:00 PM bus to Dangriga at about 1:20 (that's how things work here).  The bus chugs along weaving it's way north for a couple hours.  A simple ride with no bicycles.

We arrive in Dangriga and meet up with Eli and Dave, a couple of laid back need greaters from the East coast, USA.  From Connecticut but they remind me of some SoCal surfers.  As soon as we enter the main city street, Charley, a local Garifuna, comes up to see who the new guys in town are.  Eli tells him we're with him, subsequently Charley leaves us alone.  Eli explains Charley is not a bad guy, he's just an opportunist, and is always aware of an opportunity to hustle a gringo.

We go to the meeting in Dangriga. It's our first meeting in a Kingdom Hall since we've been here, because in Placencia we meet in the local community center.  The humidity in the Kingdom Hall is comparable to a steam room but you can feel the energy and positivity throughout. Apparently this energy has broken more  than half the fans, it's just that powerful.  Dangriga English, a congregation of about 100, a combination of need greaters, special pioneers, and locals. They are already having a Saturday and Sunday meeting and soon they will be splitting, now that the Jacobs, a special pioneer couple from Belmopan have arrived. The Jacobs are from California but have been in Belize for 8 years. 

The next morning as we leave the service group, Brother Jacobs pounds his chest twice and says "Respect brothers".  Wow, I ponder, even the white people are cool here.  In the ministry I work with a brother who moved here from Canada 3 years ago with his family.  He has 9 Bible studies right now, because that's all he has time for.  I'm a little nervous as I take my first door, but I muster it up, and call out "Hello . . . Morning!" from the bottom of the stairs as is the custom.  The somewhat dilapidated house is about 8 feet off the ground, on stilts providing shade for the dogs and the drunks.  

"I'm busy right now, sorry", she says from the door.  Sounds like the states, the difference is the person here is most likely legitimately busy.   "Should I come back?"  I ask.  "Yes, come back in 20 minutes please".  We circle the block talking to a few people.  Strangely almost everyone seems to be busy this morning but one lady cooking fish talks to us for a bit.  She studied in the past and even went to the meetings some.  So we invite her to the meeting on the weekend. She says she'll be there. 

Making our way back to the busy lady, we call up again, "Hello. . .  Good morning!" She invites us up.  I start my presentation in the Truth tract, and read Psalm 37:10, 11.  She listens very attentively, and I ask her if she'd like to learn more.  She says yes.  And before I can offer she asks, "Can someone study the Bible with me?"  We go and find sister Jacobs.  I introduce them and they set up a time to meet in a couple days.  As we leave, the householder (whose name has escaped me, granted this was a couple weeks ago) says, "you really made my day, today" with a big smile on her face.   She made ours as well. 

Service is over, we've had our siesta, we've gotten our bicycles, it's time to go home.  It's an interesting feeling going home to Placencia.  Leaving it and coming back, is the first time, for me at least that it has really felt like home.  Maybe that's typical.  

There is the less then trivial matter of getting the bikes back on the bus.  These buses don't exactly have bike racks.  After cramming, scrunching, folding, bunching, climbing and situating the three of us (the Brits took a different bus) and the three bikes into the back of the bus; we sit, cozy and content.  As the sky darkens and the air cools Gilbert and Ian discuss; well things I suppose, I wasn't really paying attention.  Opposite them I stare out my window, watching the Mayan villages and banana plantations fly by.  The beauty of the evening makes it easy to reflect on how privileged we are to be here right now. Riding on possibly the same bus I went to the zoo in when I was in the 4th grade, surrounded by good friends, and sporadically colored beach cruisers.  That "journey is the destination" thing is kind of making sense these days. 

Gilbert's mad skills

In case there was doubt, yes I am a Nerd!

Good thing Ian is too :)

"The best things in life are unexpected - - because there is no expectation"

We unload from the back of the pickup truck and apply bug spray in a car wash assembly line manner. The various desks and chairs from the lime green school have been scattered on the lawn in front of the building. A white sheet is set up on the side of the building with a projector and a laptop cued up with a young people ask video sitting on a desk in the front row.
Thus far it's just need greaters and a few studies standing around, chatting and laughing while telling tales small and tall.  Oh yeah and avoiding the tall grass, deep in the Stann Creek district of Belize the bugs are the worst in the tall grass. 
It's now nearing 6 o'clock, 30 minutes or so past the advertised start time of the program, and still no Maya villagers. Will anybody show we wonder?  Or will we just have to sit on our own and listen to a talk in a language we don't understand. At least we'll get to watch a video I guess.
The brothers arranged the program due to a recent string of suicides among Maya youth in the area.  Most recently 3 Maya teenagers all poisoned themselves and then spent the next week slowly dying.  It took one teenager nearly 5 days to end his life. The effect on the community is hard for us to even begin to comprehend. 
Slowly, gradually the seats begin to fill.  Mostly children sit in the seats near the front.  Mothers with two or three children with them occupy the chairs on the outskirts of the group.  We stand at the back and observe the crowd gather to hear a talk with practical advice from the Bible in there own Mayan language.  A rarity indeed.  I notice very few men in the audience at the start of the talk.  Just women, children, and pack of dogs to the side fighting and growling at each other.   Soon though, scanning the field to the right more begin to creep in.  There is half a dozen people, mostly older men, standing about 20 feet away from the main group.  As the talk continues they slowly ease in closer and closer to the group.  Seemingly; always alert and paying close attention, absorbing the words being spoken.
The talk ends and polite applause proceeds.
As the young people ask video begins I find myself originally nervous of there choice.  It's the drama based on the Bible account of Dinah. The girl gets in with poor association at school and this has a negative effect on her life for a time. How will they relate to this video, I wonder. It seems so far away and distant from there lifestyle.  I think modern suburbia really couldn't be any further away.  The first somewhat cheesy funny part of the video happens with the girl's dad doing something which I can't recall.  And to my pleasing surprise, the crowd of over 100 roars with laughter.  Well, I guess they like it. The Maya people fill in the gaps in the makeshift outdoor meeting place and nobody, that I noticed, leaves while the video plays.
Afterwards we have a few minutes to talk with the villagers.  They are so appreciative of us coming.  One man asks me if we'll be doing this every week here.  He says the people here need this type of education. He thanks us, and I feel a deep warmth to have the privilege to belong to such a brotherhood.
Ian also gets a little chatty with a villager.  Chatty enough that we almost end up leaving him in the village (that would of been tough to explain).  Banging on the outside of the truck, the brother driving stops and Ian has time to run and jump in the back. They don't mess around here.  I wasn't looking forward to the chilly hour long ride back home in the back of a pickup truck. 
To escape the wind we lie on our backs and are treated to possibly the most beautiful night sky I've experienced in my life.  The stars are not scattered in the sky. Rather they form a continuous variance of different patterns and brightness until the heavens above seem to have nearly exploded with light. As the truck makes turns on the road the whole sky shifts.  Almost as if we can feel the movement of the earth beneath us.
This night was an experience I wouldn't of been able to imagine.
I went into this trip trying my best to have no expectations.  But once I got here I faced the hard reality that, inevitably, I did indeed have some expectations.  Which of course were highly inaccurate. Looking back now on a couple weeks.  It is not the picture I had in my mind; but everyday has been unique, different, and quite fantastic.
I suppose maybe I've seen that we can't help but have some expectations going into a new situation.  But the important thing is to be willing to let go, completely, of those expectations.  And not only except things for what they are but embrace things for what they are.  Because in this way, life it seems can often be more amazing and fresh and exciting then we could ever possibly imagine.

 Sorry I still have taken just a few low quality pics.  I will try to remember to get my camera out more.

An uncertain destination

The squeal of the wheels touching ground alerts my attention.  We say polite goodbyes and "have a nice trip" to Felix.  The older gentlemen in the seat next to us who messed up his customs form three times and thus decided he'd never come to Mexico again.  "It's too much of a hassle", he says.  I wonder if he knows what he's talking about.

We take a comfortable bus to Playa del Carmen and eventually find the Hotel Colorado.  There we talk to Kard, one of the six owners of the Hotel.  He lets us pick out which room we want and tells us about a nice local place called Fogon. One more day in Playa spent running on the beach, talking to local transplant divers, wandering around all inclusives, swimming, and just relaxing for a bit.  Oh yeah and trying to figure out how we're going to get to Belize City tomorrow.
Yet to contact Rick or Veronica Cattouse, the people who Derrick set us up to stay with in Belize City, we decide to press on regardless. We walk the surprisingly vacant streets of Playa before the sunrise to catch a bus to the border.  There we meet a fast talking tri-lingual French back packer, possibly named Javier, although that may have also been the name of the taxi driver.  The first class bus to Chetumal was about 4 1/2 hours and pleasant, it had a bathroom, air conditioning and even a TV airing a fantastically cheesy teen comedy.
"Javier" spoke Spanish so we shared a taxi with him and he helped us cross the border.  He'd been traveling Central America for about 5 months and was trying to get to Honduras.  His experience and Spanish helped us much getting across the border.
Once in Belize the buses changed dramatically.  I apologize, in all the chaos thus far, I have but barely one or two random pictures of the trip. But just imagine an old American school bus painted bright colors and playing loud Spanish music and the worst of 80's pop.  As an example, hours into bus riding Belize I was actually excited to hear a Creed song, then after about 15 seconds I remembered how awful Creed is. We slowly travel the streets of Corozal.  The bus driver stopping for ice cream and then a Coke at another time.  Let's say it's a leisurely drive.
Then we pass through a small village named Concepcion.
Now it's time to travel from Concepcion to Placencia, and that is quite a journey.
In Orange Walk, two hours from this days destination we still have no idea where we are going to stay in Belize City.  We talk to Herminio one of the guys working on the bus and ask him where we can make a phone call.  Well it turns out he knows Rick and Veronica, and he calls them for us, gets through to them and we are able to make plans to meet.
Staying at the Cattouses is still the best night of sleep I've gotten so far on the trip.
Anyhoo there's another 7 hours or so of buses the next day plenty interesting but i fear there has already been plenty of bus details.  Arriving at our destination on a bus without an inch of space to spare we meet up with Derrick and eat a delicious dinner of homemade tuna filled empanadas at a brand new unbaptized brothers house. 
So now in the past, getting to Placencia, was surely an experience.  A bit stressful at times, filled with unknowns and uncertainties.  When my mind would race, I prayed to Jehovah and he calmed me, helped me to think clearly, act reasonably, and provided the needed direction to get us here safe, sound and smiling.

"The suspense is terrible. I hope it will last"

Preparing for our upcoming trip has me in a state of surreal anxiety ridden excitement. Thus what better way to console this idle mind chatter then to participate in the cathartic experience of musing away in type. Right? Well I know what a few of those words mean at least.

Allow me to digress for a moment.  Some background if I may on how an adventure is born.  I suppose it all starts with inspiration. When I was 14 my best friend moved with his his family to San Miguel, a small town in the mountains of Ecuador, South America. Not quite a year later, I traveled with a friend to visit him there.  I have fond memories but I never thought of the trip with much significance, but as most everything does in life, the trip sparked profound change.

I got a bug on that trip, and I don't mean a parasite, possibly that too though. I speak of the adventure bug.  Which I suppose is quite human in itself, as I think adventure is relative.  Maybe it's just challenging yourself in some way.  Doing something that's somewhat difficult, new, or possibly even uncomfortable. Here's an excerpt from my travel journal to Ecuador on a day out in service "There was just rural houses in San Vincenta, We had to walk up lots of hills. There are pigs tied up along the dirt roads, and the dogs bite, all the people are really nice."  It's not exactly summiting K2, but it was interesting, different, addictive even.  It was the first time I think, that I realized how little I really knew about the world and life in general.  And little is more exciting than that, because when you know nothing the potential for learning and growth is endless.  Now I'm not saying I always kept that attitude, I was a teenager for goodness sake. And as I get older and become what some people might call an adult of sorts, it's a struggle I must say to keep that childlike awe and desire to drink in experiences and gain all the insight that our surroundings offer.  Whatever those surroundings may be. 

And that is why I'm so excited about this trip to Belize. Because I don't feel all that different from that 14 year old kid.  I still don't know what to expect. I can plan all day, but I still don't really know what I'm doing (don't tell Ian that part), and the whole thing, like life in general, is just one big, giant unknown.  Yes, there is so much to learn.  And that is truly, a Magnificent thing!

Here's some pics of that trip . . .