Yesterday was somewhat surreal. We found ourselves driving through mountains covered with jungle and valleys full of orange trees just ready for harvest. It was a stormy day and misty clouds covered the mountain tops. On the radio, a Belizean radio host with perfect British English played a memorial tribute to Whitney Houston. Along the sides of the road, kids were out playing or riding their bikes. Others carried big bundles of branches on their backs and a pair of women in brightly colored shirts stood chatting while watching the oncoming clouds. Here and there the bright shape of a white crane stood out amongst the many shades of green. It was ache-ingly beautiful and also sad with Whitney's ballads playing; a strange mix of life elements: lush beauty, stormy weather, playful innocence, tragedy and perfection.
We arrived in Hopkins and checked in to our hotel, which is right on the ocean. We felt blessed to get this place as they had been booked out for a long time and then the night before I emailed last week someone canceled for a two bedroom beachfront apartment. We were able to get all five nights that we needed. It felt like home on the Oregon coast as the wind shook the cottage and the waves crashed all night. It was a fitting end to the day.
This morning dawned bright and beautiful and calm. Travel nirvana. More about that later.
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