The mother art is architecture. Without an architecture of our
own we have no soul of our own civilization. ~ Frank Lloyd Wright

Dear Asher,

Your mother and I both woke up feeling unwell but when I climbed down the ladder to see that Greysi had baked a loaf for our pre-planned picnic, I did not have the heart to cancel the excursion. I thought if they were generous enough to offer to take us sightseeing, we could be tough enough to ride it out. The back roads of Honduras were far more tough than our bellies which were already primed for motion sickness. The hour and a half ride to El Cajon seemed like an eternity but between mini dry heaves, I made an effort to look out and appreciate the breathtakingly beautiful rural landscapes.

El Cajon is the sight of the highest arch dam in the Western hemisphere built by an Italian, German and Swiss team. This hydro electric dam project provides 90% of electricity to all of Honduras. Robert encircled a mountain at warp speed to give us an aerial view of the impressive dam then we spiraled back down to the river’s edge below to the agua termanales (hot springs). Just like Tatopani high in the Himalayas, several pools of varying temperatures were fed by a never ending scalding hot river of water. Sitting at the base of the dam directly under a utility bridge which crossed a wide river banked by steep cliffs, these hot springs had a gorgeous view of earth’s two great architects, nature and humans. Asher, for the past thirty days you have mostly had cold showers, so you throughly enjoyed the warm pools which probably reminded you of your warm nightly Canadian baths. Your mom and I also enjoyed the pools as they seemed to have an immediate healing effect on our battered bodies. You splashed, kicked and squealed until you could not fight the fatiguing power of warm water and made the very obvious hand sign for “milk.” We have been working on this hand sign for over two months now and you seem to be using it appropriately more often than not. Your mom found a comfortable spot under some riverside trees and within seconds of latching on, you were asleep. Though the hot water was doing wonders for us, we still were not well enough to enjoy Greysi’s picnic and were still in rough shape for the two and a half hour ride ahead of us to our final destination.

The roads to El Mochito were littered with pot holes, speed bumps and sharp turns, and the constant gear shifting made Robert’s 4X4 feel like a torturous roller coaster. Thankfully the AC worked or we would not have survived with stomachs intact. Having gone an entire day without a single calorie and driving over four hours on Honduran back roads, we were both grumps, but Asher, you hung in there. In the end, Robert and Greysi did show us some spectacular landscapes and afforded us respite in the hot springs, so we tried to show our gratitude through our pained faces. Parting with Robert and Greysi was bittersweet because although they provided us with some unforgettable memories, at that moment, all we could think about was a comfortable bed. We found just that at D&D Brewery and Lodging on the Northwest side of Yojoa. We all fell asleep at 6pm and stayed that way for twelve straight hours.