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Sunday, 30 June 2013

Moving to Honduras - Page 7

Written by Treva Wynn
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Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they were allowed back on the bus, free to go.

The bus driver resumed his insane speed and all went back to normal. Everyone was quiet, or asleep. It was past four in the morning. 45 minutes later, we pulled up to yet another check-point. This time, they ignored Katie's lack of identification, and let us leave after they padded the men down again. 

By the time we reached Ocotepeque, the sun was just peaking behind the mountains that engulfed the little town. I once again, was struggling with that stupid bag and the strap, except now it was much more difficult. It kept tipping over on the gravel covered dusty road, so I just dragged it. Eventually Kristen came to my rescue again, and picked it up over her head and carried it the rest of the way to our apartment. Like I said, badass. Naturally, our apartment was 3 floors up, sitting on top of a flat roof. There were two structures, one for the kitchen and living room, and the other for bedrooms, separated by an enormous balcony that was divided by cloth lines. I walked and leaned against the edge, absorbing my surroundings, and my freshly experienced adventures. I looked down to see a scrawny dog running across the deserted street of my new home. In the last twenty-four hours, I had been abandoned, saved, trampled, mugged, saved again, and had survived the scariest bus ride of my life.

Quietly I thought,  ‘I think I'm going to like it here.’


(c)Treva Wynn





(Page 7 of 7)
Last modified on Monday, 01 July 2013

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