The ambulance that has been my home for the past 3 weeks leaves us today. Murray drives Chupacabra with myself in the co pilot seat for the last time. Today we visit the second hospital in Comayagua, and after washing the rally from her, we drive to the city to be greeted by the same warm smiles as we were yesterday. A similar ceremony follows, with numerous television cameras and reports thrusting microphones at the guest speakers. We are treated to a tour of this hospital, and once again the need for the ambulance becomes clear. They need another three more. I guess I know what I’m doing next year then.
I’ve been taking a lot of pictures over the past couple of days, trying to get some good ones for the Go Help website to really get across what has happened here. In truth, nothing I could have captured on film will echo the emotions of how each of us were feeling. I didn’t get it before. I get it now.
After we share yet another wonderful meal (paid for by the Honduran government no less) we stop by Gabriella’s home for some coffee. It’s not just any coffee; it’s grown in the mountains behind her house, roasted on the premises, and bagged in her front room. We are each served the freshest cup I’ve ever tasted, and given a bag of beans as a gift. It really is a lovely gesture. Gabby runs a growing company, and is in the process of setting up her business. So long as the coffee keeps tasting this good, she’s going to have no problems. My dangerous habit is that I don’t so much as drink coffee as eat the beans. I feel my fellow travelers will be scraping me off the roof later on.
So that’s it all over. We pile into the back of a 4WD and head back to the hostel. It’s a funny feeling knowing we are not going to be transported anywhere in the back of an ambulance anymore. I now have to make my way on my own steam. It’s a daunting prospect, as I have come to love the safety, security and relative luxury that Chupa afforded us. The road ahead is unclear, but it’s going to be interesting to find out where it leads.
A late night fueled by various house beers and coffee beans ensures I won’t be up early tomorrow. For the first time, we don’t have anywhere to be, and the only direction I’m heading is the one I choose for myself. The world awaits.
Chupacabra
The ambulance that has been my home for the past 3 weeks leaves us today. Murray drives Chupacabra with myself in the co pilot seat for the last time. Today we visit the second hospital in Comayagua, and after washing the rally from her, we drive to the city to be greeted by the same warm smiles as we were yesterday. A similar ceremony follows, with numerous television cameras and reports thrusting microphones at the guest speakers. We are treated to a tour of this hospital, and once again the need for the ambulance becomes clear. They need another three more. I guess I know what I’m doing next year then.
I’ve been taking a lot of pictures over the past couple of days, trying to get some good ones for the Go Help website to really get across what has happened here. In truth, nothing I could have captured on film will echo the emotions of how each of us were feeling. I didn’t get it before. I get it now.
After we share yet another wonderful meal (paid for by the Honduran government no less) we stop by Gabriella’s home for some coffee. It’s not just any coffee; it’s grown in the mountains behind her house, roasted on the premises, and bagged in her front room. We are each served the freshest cup I’ve ever tasted, and given a bag of beans as a gift. It really is a lovely gesture. Gabby runs a growing company, and is in the process of setting up her business. So long as the coffee keeps tasting this good, she’s going to have no problems. My dangerous habit is that I don’t so much as drink coffee as eat the beans. I feel my fellow travelers will be scraping me off the roof later on.
So that’s it all over. We pile into the back of a 4WD and head back to the hostel. It’s a funny feeling knowing we are not going to be transported anywhere in the back of an ambulance anymore. I now have to make my way on my own steam. It’s a daunting prospect, as I have come to love the safety, security and relative luxury that Chupa afforded us. The road ahead is unclear, but it’s going to be interesting to find out where it leads.
A late night fueled by various house beers and coffee beans ensures I won’t be up early tomorrow. For the first time, we don’t have anywhere to be, and the only direction I’m heading is the one I choose for myself. The world awaits.