[HONDURAS] The middle and upper class in Tegucigalpa live behind their walls, with their guards and guns and barbed wire. It’s almost as if they’re in jail, imprisoned by fear of losing their possessions and wealth and lives. In the northern part of the country, the tourist islands such as Roatan are beautiful, but still without infrastructure. There are few doctors or paved roads. Crime is still rampant. In the rural, eastern part of the country, there are no laws. It's no man's land. Riddled with and ruled by drug runners like in the movies. The people whom we've met thus far have been more than kind. Friendly, even. But the desperation and lack of hope in Honduras are evident.
It's hot, but not unbearable this August in Tegucigalpa. It's not humid, since they've had no rain in this rainy season. And the fan makes it tolerable to sleep. The food is good! Salty and dense, but compared with the stomach-bending variety I had during my mission trip to China, blissfully simple. There are fewer vegetables than I'm used to eating, though. And because we have to drink bottled water, I feel as if I can't drink enough.
The hills and mountains ringing the city are beautiful. The clouds are fluffier here, and the city is so colorful. There’s bright paint of every hue on every building. It's usually peeling and stained, and there's a lot of cardboard and old wood and metal mixed in, but as a whole, it is a pretty kaleidoscope.