Dearly beloved, sit down and I will tell you a story. Once upon a time, I lived in Honduras in a house made of adobe and clay tiles. The house was simply a long row of rooms side by side, with a porch on the back side, connecting all the rooms. The house also had two courtyards, separated by a wall and a door. While living there, we often had different stripes of young men come to stay with us…
A while ago I wrote a post about some of the annoying things people say to returned missionaries, which you can find here if you didn’t read it. I got responses from fellow TCKs and missionaries who knew just what I meant, but I also had people asking what things should be said. It’s a hard question to answer. You know, ranting is a lot easier than guiding people along the paths of righteousness and good etiquette. 🙂 That’s why my blog…
Wash dishes. I mean it, wash dishes all the time. Do your own laundry. Gladly eat the food they have on hand, but pass on that special treat they just got from the States that they feel obliged to share with you. And then go wash some more dishes. Don’t treat your visit as a vacation at a resort. The missionaries are not there only to feed you and entertain you. Pull your weight. Speaking of entertaining, be easy to…
I have been absent a while, I know, roaming the mountains and plains and comeateries of Honduras. I’ll be back shortly with stories about a flopped beach trip and a not-flopped trip to Erandique. For now though, let me show you some of what’s been occupying me. I’ve been eating platos típicos, And so many tacos, And baleadas that would knock your socks off, And plantain chips for days, And garlic shrimp and pork chops and tajadas and seafood soup,…