The Adventure Continues ... Getting to Honduras

The Ferry ride on the D-express was nice, easy and fairly comfortable. And yes, I was able to buy a ticket when I arrived.

Just more than two hours after leaving Independence, Belize we arrived in Puerto Cortes, Honduras. It is a small port and where the ferry arrives is a fresh fish market so I'm assuming the fishermen all bring their catch in right there as well.

As soon as I stepped off the ferry I was met by someone wearing a D-express polo shirt who asked me if I wanted to change my Belizean money.

Oh right, money, almost forgot. My plan had been, knowing that nowhere in Honduras would they take Belize dollars, I would go to the bank in Placencia and change my money for US dollars. It was a lovely idea. But it doesn't work that way.

In the bank the first thing they wanted to know is what I wanted to change my money for. Now I know I look like the type to be doing something shady, probably a money launderer. I explained I was going on a weeklong dive trip to Utila. They told me they would only change $500 BZD ($250 USD). Well that wasn't going to work. I asked if I could change the money when I arrived in Honduras. They said that I could change my money when I got to Puerto Cortes BUT that the banks there would not change my Belizean dollars for Honduran Lempiras. Okay, I'd change it in Puerto Cortes.

I told the man who met me at the ferry that yes, I wanted to change my Belizean dollars for Lempiras. He said they were giving an 8 Lempiras to 1 BZD rate. Let's review, the going exchange rate in Belize for BZD to USD is 2 to 1, for every $1 USD I get $2 BZD. So if they are giving me 8 to 1 for my Belize money that equals 16 to one in US dollars. The exchange rate the day I got to Honduras for Lempiras to USD was 21 to 1. I definitely got the short end of that deal. You might wonder why I didn't just go to a bank and use my ATM card to get money out -- a US account I'd get the 21 to 1 rate. The reason I didn't do that was that I had been reading some posts recently of people having some issues with their card being compromised after using an ATM in Honduras.

Okay, water under the bridge, next time I'll do it differently, but I sure could have used that money I lost in the exchange..

The same guy who changed my money also asked where I was going and if I needed a taxi. I explained I had to get to San Pedro Sula. I was then introduced to a lovely Australian couple who were traveling through Central America and they too needed to take a cab to a hotel in San Pedro Sula, we could share and save a bit of money.

We stuffed all our luggage into the trunk of the taxi and off we went towards San Pedro Sula. I had the name of the hotel I had a reservation at and the address and gave both to the driver. You've never really lived until you take a taxi ride in Honduras. Intersections? That is where the driver honks his horn to let others know he's comin' through, never figured out what horn got you the right of way but there wasn't any stopping for cross traffic. The taxi ride is about an hour from Puerto Cortes to San Pedro Sula.

Arriving, there is a sense of entering another world. The pictures in your head of the Caribbean go away when you realize that every single business has an armed guard standing outside of it. There are lots of corners with men with sub machine guns. No they don't all appear to be army, they might be police they might be something else, who knows. Our taxi driver needs to stop for gas. He pulls into a station (it may have been a Texaco station, I don't remember). There seems to be an attendant for every pump, the driver tells the attendant how much gas he wants and they pump it for you. Watching over all of this is a guy patrolling the area with a shotgun at port arms. And here is the reason why:

The driver seems to know where he's going and I"m happily thinking about meeting Paula, having a nice late lunch early dinner. The ferry had arrived at about 1:15, and after the money exchange and immigration we left Puerto Cortes about 2:00. Should have gotten me into San Pedro Sula about 3:00. It is probably about 3:30 when it becomes apparent the driver doesn't know where my hotel is. I feel fortunate in that the male of the couple I'm in the cab with speaks fluent Spanish and is able to translate the address of where  I need to go. We drive around and around, stopping about four times to ask peopleon street corners if they know where the  hotel is. It is not inspiring confidence that almost all look like they never heard of the hotel and have no clue about the address either.

I'm beginning to wonder if the  universe is conspiring against me getting to my final destination for a week of fun and diving.

Finally the taxi driver pulls over and calls the hotel. They give him directions from where he says he is. He is repeating them outloud as they tell him. Off we go again, he gets to an intersection where the female of the couple says, I think you'r supposed to turn right here. Taxi driver turns left. Around and around for another 10 minutes, a couple stops to ask pedestrians and then call the hotel again. The hotel staff keeps trying to tell him that he is only two blocks away. Finally the driver listens to my female taxi buddy and turns right when she tells him to and voila there is the hotel. Funny, it doesn't look anything like the picture when I booked the room. My two friends from Australia have now spent a good extra hour to an hour and a half  in the cab trying to get me to my hotel. I apologize and the guy laughs and says it's okay, the driver likely won't be able to find their hotel either. He says the driver is from Puerto Cortes and doesn't know his way around San Pedro Sula at all. That has become painfully obvious.  In addition the driver speaks absolutely no english and I speak almost no Spanish.

The driver wrestles my huge bag out of the trunk and is more than happy to leave me there. I get into the hotel go to the desk and happily say, "hi, I have a reservation." The desk clerk is a lovely young man who speaks outstanding english. But he looks rather forlorn when he says, "did we speak to you this morning?" "No", I tell him, " but you may have talked to Paula, my friend who I'm sharing the room with". His frown becomes more pronounced and he says, "I was afraid you'd say that. You're at the wrong hotel."

Turns out the hotel has two properties, with the same name but in different parts of the city. After a short discussion he assures me he'll get me another cab to take me to the correct hotel and in addition gives me one of their brochures that has addresses and maps of both their locations so I can show the driver if necessary. After waiting about 15 minutes he is a little flustered that the taxi has not arrived and gotten this lost American out of his lobby. Finally the taxi gets there, and off we go again.

This driver seems much more certain of where he's going, well until we get where he thinks is close and he also pulls over and asks a pedestrian for further instruction. Honduras has not gotten the memo about GPS. Finally we arrive and Paula breathes a huge sigh of relief, having convinced herself I had been kidnapped by pirates or been murdered on my way to the hotel.

The desk clerks at this property do not speak any English and so it takes some time to pantomime what information they want me to provide on one of their check in forms. But finally we are in our room with air conditioning. We decide to head for dinner and head down to the front desk again. Luckily we get a staff member who speaks limited English and in answer to our question is very adamant we cannot walk anywhere to go eat, we must take a cab, it is far too dangerous to walk. They help us choose a restaurant once they realize we really don't want Applebees or TGIFridays and would prefer Honduran food, and they call a cab.

The taxi driver, a very nice young man, takes us to the restaurant and gives us his phone number and tells us to call or have the restaurant call about a half an hour before we're ready to leave and he'll come back and return us to our hotel. It works out very well.

Following morning, after breakfast provided by the hotel, we're back in a taxi on our way to the airport. We check in for our flight and wait for Sandra and Greg to arrive from Atlanta. Getting ready to head up to the security screening area and we are stopped and told we have to go over to the bank and pay our fees. We do and then it is on to a 12 seater plane for the 1/2 hour flight to Utila.

Our plane from San Pedro Sula to Utila

Upon arriving on  the island we collect our bags and find two taxis, which are basically three wheeled motorized rickshaws and we clamber in for the 10 minute ride to the hotel. There isn't a lot of cars on Utila but there are lots of bikes, scooters, pedestrians, golf carts, other taxis, and none of them feel the need to slow down for anyone else. If the vehicle, of whatever type, in front of you is not going fast enough then go around and honk plenty so the oncoming vehicle at least knows you're in their lane.

We arrrived at Pirate's Bay Inn Dive Resort Resort, David there checked us in and set us up for our diving. We got our rooms then met at the bar where we met staff, visitors, dive masters in training, and the lovely ladies who cook and work the bar. A very cold beer that only cost 30 lempiras ($1.50 USD) and we are settling in nicely.

Next Post: Utila; diving, underwater photography .... or not,  house hunting, volunteering for Sea Shepherd and forgetting all about whatever happened on the mainland.

It is not the destination but the journey ..... who said that?

So, the plan was, go to Utila for a week of scuba diving. My kind of plan. Utila is one of the Bay Islands off the coast of Honduras a sister island to Roatan. Smaller in size and known more for dive training than for high end resorts.

I was meeting Greg, Paula and Sandra in Honduras, so I thought I would save money and have a bit of an adventure by taking a ferry to Honduras. The ferry, "The D-Express" travels on Fridays from Placencia to Puerto Cortes Honduras, about a 2 hour ferry ride. Then I was going to take a taxi to San Pedro Sula where I would meet Paull, we would spend the night then meet Greg and Sandra at the International Airport there and take a puddle jumper flight to Utila.

I had gone to the website for the D-Express several times but it is not a great site, not well maintained or up to date and the link to purchase tickets online is not functional. On the Wednesday before I was supposed to leave I went into a business that is right near where the ferry apparently loads on Friday morning. I had been told that they sold tickets there. I went in and was told that no, I had to go see Omar for tickets.

Omar Sierra is a local long-time Placencian, owns some guest homes on the sidewalk, and owns a Restaurant "Omar's Creole Grub" on the main road. The people told me to go see Omar at the restaurant. I walked down the road and went in. Omar's son was there and he said his dad was on his way back to Placencia on the bus and would be there that afternoon/evening or the next day and could sell me a ticket. I told him I'd be back on Thursday.

Thursday morning I walked back down to the restaurant and when I asked about tickets for the ferry the young man said, "well Omar is around today but he's not here." I asked when he would be in and he said, "later today".

I didn't just fall off that turnip truck and knew I needed to clarify, we are talking Belize time here  so I asked, "what does that mean later?" He said, "well later this afternoon or if you come back around dinner time." So I went home to wait.

I then walked back down to the restaurant at about 4:30 in the afternoon. The sign outside said they were closed and would re-open at 5:30 for dinner. Might he have told me they closed and reopened later? Oh well.  Rather than go home I went and wandered through town, stopping at the grocery, the pharmacy etc. I went back at 5:30 but nope they were still closed. I wandered some more and went back twice more between 5:30 and 6 but they still weren't there. So I finally went over to where the guest houses were on the sidewalk and rang the bell outside. A very nice woman answered and I told her I was trying to get a ticket for the D-express. She siad, "Oh, Mr. Omar does that." I smiled. She said "oh, I'll go get him right now and disappeared into the home" She came back about 5 minutes later and said, "Mr. Omar has been out of town for a few days so he turned his ticket book back in while he was gone and doesn't have it."

I was beginning to wonder if I was meant to ride the ferry at all. Then the woman said, "you do know you can just get a ticket tomorrow morning when you board the ferry."

Huh, who'd have thought?

On Friday morning Dan and Doc, my cabana neighbors called a cab for me (due to a very large suitcase I had to get to the ferry) and they rode their bikes down and we had coffee together before I left. Finally at about 9:00 we left Placencia. After about 15 minutes we were in Independence where we sat for about an hour and waited until an Immigration Officer came to the boat, checked our passports and paperwork stamped them  and we were on our way.

The D-Express Ferry

Next post: Arriving in Honduras ... the adventure continues.

We Take Our Hammock Sitting Seriously ...

It has been a while since my last post, and for that I apologize.  It felt a bit like I had settled in, almost to a point of monotony. That isn't all bad, I am retired after all, the whole point here is I don’t’ “have” to do anything. And boy I’m getting exceptionally good at doing nothing.

But that is “nothing” in a healthy sense. If you ever need to relax, lower your blood pressure, find some place to meditate, consider your life, I can’t recommend the Caribbean, specifically this place, enough.

I am elevating hammock sitting on an over the water dock to an art form. So to let you know what is happening in this corner of the world, otherwise known as paradise:

Well first, one of my favorite bar/restaurants closed. I’m not always sure of the veracity of the stories I hear but what I've heard is the mother of the owner, who is from the UK, has fallen ill and he has decided to return to England.

The Purple Space Monkey has been in existence for 12 years in one form or another and seemed to have survived a few owners and a fire to become a relatively stable village staple. Good food, wonderful staff, good drinks. One of the very few places you could get a Belikin on draft.

When the owner decided to sell, in swooped Caldwell Banker Real Estate. They are selling most of the properties at Sanctuary Belize, a very upscale development in the area. I’m not really sure of the reasoning for Caldwell Banker to choose this property although it does put them on the main road right next to two other real estate offices. But they are apparently going to take a good restaurant property and enclose it to make an office building with a bar out front. I don’t know, maybe expats with a lot of money are looser with the checkbook after a few drinks.

The last few days at PSM were bittersweet, one less place your likely to run into friends for a drink while in the village, separate from the bigger beach bars. It was cool to see many of the local business owners, including restaurant and bar owners coming in for a meal and drinks and to say goodbye.

The Staff at Purple Space Monkey

The staff is going off in different directions, some will be working at other local bars, the chef Rick is building his own restaurant up the main road a piece, not sure when it will be built and operational.

Personally,  I’m sorry to no longer be able to get a Pizza at PSM, it was really quite good, and I loved a Monkey Mud Slide as a dessert drink.

In other news, at the cabanas where I live it has been fun  we seem to be forming a little community. Just about every afternoon and evening, some or all of us will end up on the dock, lounging in the newly purchased hammocks, exchanging stories about our day, telling each other what new we’ve learned about living in Placencia as an expat and learning about where we all came from. Mostly we’re just becoming professional hammock sitters.

There is Doc, he’s from Texas, a retired veterinarian and an author. He has published four books of short stories about vet life and has a fifth being edited for publication. His long term plan is to live here almost permanently, having just bought a piece of property but  he does go back to the states to travel to several very large stock shows where he has a booth to sell his books. Although his wardrobe now is shorts, t-shirts and flip-flops, it doesn’t take much to imagine him in boots, spurs and cowboy hat. You can check out his books and his website here.

There is Cruz, a former software engineer form Chandler, Arizona who just decided the Caribbean life was for him, so he sold everything and came on down. Long term he’ll likely buy or build a home here or in another Central American country,  and who knows, may start his own business. Don’t let him fool you though, in addition to being an engineer he is quite the dancer, ballroom style, western swing. You can often find him in one of the local watering holes cutting a rug and making several of us less than graceful types look reasonably okay on the dance floor.

Dan is the most recent addition to our little “community”, a former truck driver from Phoenix, Arizona who after a medical scare, retired and decided he could better afford life here and could avoid all that traffic.

John and Donna have lived here longer than the rest of us, they own the 2 Can Be Sweet coffee shop and bakery on the sidewalk. Donna makes those amazing cinnamon rolls I’ve previously raved about. They plan on moving and expanding their business a bit, less baked goods and more breakfast and lunch food in a new building on the main road. Right now they are in Guatemala on their newly purchased sailboat that after hurricane season they will bring up and anchor here to live on.

Finally we have Mike, a business owner from Kansas City, Missouri, who while back in the states right now will be back soon. He is building and opening a fishing charter business, in partnership with a local Belizean boat captain and fishing guide. Looks like he’ll be very successful. Hoping I might get a chance to go fishing with  him.

L to R: Dan, Doc and Cruz, cleaning fresh fish from the Co-op before grilling, it was excellent.

There is still one cabana unoccupied, you should come down and try out the hammock sitting job. There is always a breeze on our little dock, in fact sometimes it seems almost gale force winds but even then it is still comfortable and beautiful.

Next week I’m off to Utila for a week of diving with friends. Can’t wait to see Greg, Paula and Sandra. Besides the diving, Greg is checking out some homes there,  maybe I should get him to write a guest blog post about his trip to Utila and Placencia. After diving he’s visiting with me up here, checking out the local bars and restaurants and getting to enjoy the annual Lobsterfest.

Next post will include, ferry, taxi, bus and small plane rides to get to and from Honduras and an overnight stay in San Pedro Sula, Honduras.

Cockroaches and other excuses for not writing ...

I put on my big girl panties (as the saying goes) and took care of the roach bait traps myself, and luckily after my two-day murderous spree I haven't seen anymore inside the house.

So I can no longer use actual cockroaches as my excuse for not writing.

Writing you say? Why yes, I call myself a writer and have a couple of "works in progress". I'm not one, however, to let the lack of cockroaches keep me from a million other impediments to getting the writing done.

Most of my excuses are not physical things although the cockroaches work as a pretty good metaphor for all the things that I use to keep me from writing. Most of them are mental things, my own internal critic, my desire to please EVERYONE,  my fear of pleasing NO ONE, etc., etc..

I know, I know, every one agrees if you want to be a writer you have to write for yourself, not for others, and I do, kind of,  but like the crazy people inside my head I still want others to like what I write and want to read it.

Several people have offered to read for me, but just the thought, makes me get queasy and a little sweaty palmed. In fact a very good friend said he would read what I had so far ... and he doesn't even read, ever. And while I appreciate the offers I know I need to find a way around these "bugs" that keep me from moving forward.

To that end I went back to the beginning, in a way.

I have this fantasy that I am, in an alternate universe best friends with some amazingly creative people, and top of that list is Anne Lamott. (My other fantasy best friend is Sara Bareilles, she seems like she'd be a really cool best friend). I read her books, I follow her on facebook, well actually I guess I'm stalking her. She makes me laugh, she says stuff that is actually already in my brain, she is far more spiritual than I am but she forgives me for that too, but she swears like a sailor at times and for that I love her. If you're bothered by bad language skip this quote ... okay you've been warned:

“The best way to get quiet, other than the combination of extensive therapy, Prozac, and a lobotomy, is first to notice that the station is on. KFKD [K-Fucked] is on every single morning when I sit down at my desk. So I sit for a moment and then say a small prayer--please help me get out of the way so I can write what wants to be written. Sometimes ritual quiets the racket. Try it. Any number of things may work for you--an altar, for instance, or votive candles, sage smudges, small-animal sacrifices, especially now that the Supreme Court has legalized them.” 

I went back and listened to her give a talk called "Word by Word" which was like a mini workshop she did as she toured with her book "Bird by Bird", my absolute favorite book on writing,  and life.

So I've started re-reading the book. She's making me laugh all over again and realize how much I do want to write and keep writing. I would recommend this book for anyone just trying to get themselves to DO anything, particularly anything creative where they suffer from self-doubt  and low self esteem.

“If you always dreamed of writing a novel or a memoir, and you used to love to write, and were pretty good at it, will it break your heart if it turns out you never got around to it? If you wake up one day at eighty, will you feel nonchalant that something always took precedence over a daily commitment to discovering your creative spirit?

If not--if this very thought fills you with regret--then what are you waiting for?” 

I'm back at it, kind of, when I can quiet the voices in my head and get rid of the cockroaches in my writing life.

And for some of you, okay, I'm done for today talking about writing which bores some of you to no end.

On a Killing Spree ...

I am a murderer, and last night I went on a killing spree.

Cockroaches.

First, let me reiterate, the cockroaches in the Caribbean are really just a part of life, they are here (probably have been for thousands if not millions of years ... long before me), not due to a place being dirty, probably more likely because the place is built where the cockroaches already lived and when in search of food or water, sometimes it is found inside a dwelling. Unfortunately for them, the dwelling they chose happens to be mine.

I think I may have mentioned. I don't do bugs. I really don't do cockroaches.

So, while sitting a reading, minding my own business, out of the corner of my eye I see movement and there it is, just crawling across the floor. Half a can of bug poison later and it is on it's back, little legs kind of twitching. Sweep that baby right out the door.

About 10 minutes later there is another one. I tried to be a little more judicious with the poison, not because I didn't want to use another half a can but I started to worry about running out before my killing spree was over.

So final count was 5 large and 6 small roaches, which now litter the front walkway at my house.

There was a casualty, for which I'm sure I'll pay dearly. But I was in a frenzy and the light level was relatively low. I walked out expecting I might see a roach and there it was. I swore it was a pretty big size spider. Yeah, I do spiders about as well as I do cockroaches. So out came the poison and spray away. As I'm poisoning the thing I realize it doesn't really crawl across the floor like a spider an then I realize it is a tiny little crab, about the size of a nickel from claw to claw.

I'm certain the ocean gods will get me for this, but really what the heck was that crab thinking coming inside my house???

My real payment may be that I will die from inhaling bug poison  inside my house. I'm looking for an exterminator as we speak, I don't even know if they have them here.

Some Nashvegas time then back to Paradise

So, I arrived in Tennessee on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, went from the airport to South Street, a restaurant/bar in Nashville, for a beer other than Belikin (did I really say that?), then on to Jonathan's Grille for drinks and dinner and a visit with Brian before he jetted off back to California.

It was a great stay in Tennessee, made so very easy and relaxing by Greg, who not only picked me up at the airport but allowed me to stay at his home and use his vehicle during my stay. I got all my errands taken care of and then Greg and I met Paula and her lovely daughter Livie at Drake's where the adults had a couple beers and Livie just was her usual adorable self.

Thursday  night many friends gathered in Cool Springs at the Cool Springs Brewery, it was so great to get to see everyone again, and continue to try and convince them to come to Belize for a visit.

Allie

Lindsay

Lindsay, Tony, Kelli, me, Sandra, Greg, Rob, Alex, Jan,  Natalie & Cindy

Jan

Natalie and Cindy -- Natalie just gets more beautiful as she grows up!

Greg, Rob and Alex

Many thanks to all who came, sorry I missed those of you who couldn't make it.

Had a quick cup of coffee with soon to be new dad Kevin Sage, great to catch up before he is inundated with new dad duties. And thanks Kev for the intro to Aaron, we're meeting for a drink on Thursday!

Thursday the 1st finally came and Greg finally got to get rid of me, although at a price, he had to get up at 3 a.m. to get me to the airport for a 6 a.m. flight. I don't think there are adequate words to express my appreciation for all he did for me during my stay in Tennessee. Thank you again friend, and please thank Rob and Hasty for letting me "move in" to the guys house.

So it was off to Belize again. Have I mentioned how much I love having TSA pre check? And that Global Entry thing for coming back to the states. Worth every penny. Uneventful, easy flights from Nashville to Houston to Belize City to Placencia.

And when I arrived I got to move in to my new place:

I'm in the downstairs unit, a one bedroom with a reasonably large living room (comparatively). It is just right for me and behind this building not far is the ocean -- which is perfect for me.

Within a couple of days I was able to go snorkeling out to the inner reef with a group of medical students from India currently doing a two year program in Belize City, here for a long weekend. Best way to describe it was interesting, they were lovely young people although some of them didn't really even know how to swim, putting on mask fins and snorkel and getting in the ocean was almost overwhelming although they all did great and were amazed at what they could see under the water. In fact a couple hope to come back and learn to dive! The snorkeling was not the best I've ever seen but it was a good way to introduce these kids to the ocean in a safe environment. And I got to get wet which made everything better.

New neighbors have moved in to the cabanas where I live, including a really interesting man from Texas who is a vet and a published author, and I'm meeting more new people which is good. Working on really seriously getting back to the writing after a period of self doubt. And dreaming of an upcoming dive trip to Utila.

A Visit to the States

I arrived in Tennessee yesterday for my final stop on my whirlwind tour of the US before heading back to Belize.

I wondered as I was on the plane from Belize to the US if I would get here and be sad, wishing I hadn't moved or realizing how much I missed the US.

Truth? Nope, didn't happen. Yes I miss my friends here and wish I saw them more, and every once in a while I feel like I'd give my left arm for a really good green salad and I LOVED seeing my kids .... but overall, I really don't miss the hustle and bustle of life in the US. I don't watch TV anymore and I kind of like that. I don't drive anymore and have no need for a car (except those few occasions I wish I could drive to Belize City for dinner with Rob Harris and the Island Hoppers folks!!). I like my quiet existence on the little Peninsula of Placencia and the new friends I"ve made there. I really like waking up to the sounds of the ocean and the birds, and deciding which pair of shorts and t-shirt I should wear, and just walking everywhere.

And speaking of ... has anyone else noticed how cold it gets in the US? I stepped out of the airport in Sacramento and it was 60 some degrees and I was freezing!

So, I don't have Tennesse stories or pictures to share ..... yet, but I've had  such a great trip so far.

I started in Roseville, CA where I got to spend time with Cait and her best friend Gregg in their new home (new to them). Two real highlights (besides just hanging with my daughter), got to really spend some much needed time with one of my oldest friends (I mean she's been my friend for a very long time so stop giving me that look Elaine!).

And then there was this:

Cait, Gregg, Cheri and Me on our way to the game!
(Photo by Caitlin Jeffs)

A great place to see a game!!

Such a beautiful park, an absolutely great night in SF (it was about 60 degrees
which was perfect for Giants baseball), we played the Dodgers (BOOOOOOO)
and we won! (YAAAAYYYY)

I had arrived late Sunday night and the game was on Wednesday night. Early Thursday morning we got up to go to Virginia.

The rain that was forecast held off and it was a beautiful day for a wedding.

Such a beautiful couple and a wonderful ceremony.
(Photo by Caitlin Jeffs)

The gorgeous Bride and her handsome Marine husband.
 (Yes I'm biased)

This is Lindsey, my daughter in-law, she really was a stunning bride.
(she is basically stunning anyway)
Such a  beautiful dress too.

My beautiful daughter Cait next to her lovely sister in-law.
Yes, Lindsey is that tall and Cait is ..... petitte.

My sister Lisa made the wedding cake (this is about the 12th wedding she's made the cake for), it was just beautiful and delicious too!

Those are edible butterflies cascading down the side of the  cake.
White cake with chocolate-raspberry ganache filling and buttercream frosting. Yum!

When the Bride and Groom left they were sent off with sparklers instead of rice or bubbles or other stuff which was very cool!

Lindsey's family are lovely, her mom made the food for the wedding reception. Brendan is very lucky, looks like he not only scored with his lovely bride but with her family as well.

Oh, the proverbial icing ont he cake?  I got to spend time with this beautiful mommy,  this adorable little girl and her daddy.

Miss Nora Grace is the most well behaved baby ever.
Wish her big sister Em could have been there too.

I am so glad that this little family is such good friends to both my kids and their babies are really great photo subjects for Cait. And they were great traveling buddies too!

So I'm in Tennessee. Have a few bits of business I have to take care of while here, but mostly I'll be just visiting friends and taking it easy. I am so lucky, some of my friends have planned a get together for me to get to see a lot of them at once.We'll do that on Thursday, can't wait!

But, again, besides the friends I don't get to see or talk to regularly living in Belize, I am also looking forward to getting back there, away from the traffic, noise, crowds and general rush of life here. And when I go back I"ll be moving into the new place, hoping it is better for me than the last. My skin is just now starting to heal some from all the bites etc. So I"ll go back with a bit of a fresh start.