First: a blurb from Honduras. Kim, you asked for this. Even though I find this the most amusing episode of probably the whole trip, some may be disturbed (boca burger lovers beware). One morning, while driving to our work sites in a rickety, torn apart (literally) old bus, feeling every bump, smelling every smell, and watching the gorgeous mountains roll by, we passed by a little settlement of houses, a store, you know, the kind of town you are most likely to find in the middle of Kansas. Well, there was a giant pig (GIANT) that we had seen for the last several days just kind of hanging out. (Animals, whenever they weren't scrounging for food, getting kicked, or procreating, liked to stroll across the highway or just sit dangerously close and watch us pass). But, on this singular day, the pig was being dragged around on a rope by its owners. There were a few pieces of equipment around that seemed to harken back to the French Revolution and other violent occurrences, if you catch my drift.
We were returning that afternoon, and guess what! Mr. Pig was on a table. On the bus, we all started laughing, cheering, crying, etc... His owners/murderers looked up and, with their super-sharp machetes and knifes, waved and smiled! It was amusing, in a rather sadistic, anti-PETA, pro-PETA (People who Eat Tasty Animals) sort of way, and re-reading this, you really had to be there to appreciate the humor...
Second: Bastille Day is coming up. Get out your toy guillotines, Edith Piaf records, and crepes. (And maybe stop by and bring me a present, cause like a true Frenchie-ophile, my birthday falls on their Independence Day.)
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