“What is life but one grand adventure.”

Dear Asher,

We were very pleased with the hostel we found in Omoa. For just $11 per night we have a big room with two beds and a hot water shower (not that we need the hot water in this heat). There is a large covered porch with plenty of hammocks to swing in and a nice patio table overlooking a garden full of birds and butterflies. Though the customer service is nothing to write home about (Asher, we will definitely teach you about good customer service since we learned from the best), we love the little extras: free drinking water, wifi, communal kitchen, kayak use and…wait for it…bicycles.

Asher, today you went for your first bike ride and LOVED it! This was the first time your mother and I have ever had bicycles while backpacking and we loved them just as much as you did. Omoa is a small sleepy fishing village tucked safely in a large bay, about an hour drive from the Guatemalan border. The town immediately felt similar to another favorite spot of ours, Sarteneja in northern Belize. Most of the locals also get around on bikes and every single one of them has an enthusiastic smile and buenas dias. We cycled for several hours a day exploring the far reaches of the village, down dirt roads, through undeveloped land, and we even found a remote beach that far surpasses the Omoa beach. We passed colorful little pulperias (whose shopkeepers looked like they were on a permanent siesta), farmers clearing their land with machetes, and haphazard residential areas with 200 square foot pastel painted homes, each with a full line of laundry blowing in the salty air.

Each day between naps, we would ride towards new discoveries, stop to pick up fresh fruit and vegetables, and always make time for the best fruit smoothies around. Asher, you can’t get enough of the fruit smoothies and you are always flirting with the smoothie ladies (I think they remind you of Melissa from Utila) which makes the daily pit-stop all the more worthwhile. Your upper left canine is now poking it’s way through which makes you look slightly vampish and while grasping the smoothie straw with that tooth, you earned the nickname White Fang.

We have also had some great new homemade meals. With literally no spices other than cinnamon, I have been forced to make meals with the natural flavors of the fruits and veg. Though I am keeping meals ultra healthy, flavor is a tad lacking to say the least. However, while in Omoa, we have made delicious salads with couscous and chickpeas as well as heaping plates of veggie chow mien, and now that you enjoy feeding yourself, you are gobbling it all up. Since we do not have a baby chair with a fixed tray, we rigged up your jolly jumper so your feet touch a normal adult chair and your hands can eat off of the table. You love being at the same level as us and though only half of the food you pick up makes it into your mouth, you never get discouraged.

Each night the temperature after dinner would subside to a comfortable 25C and the cool breeze combined with a setting sun added to the romantic ambiance in the Omoa air. Young couples took to the streets two to a bike, stopping at roadside vendors to pick up tamales freshly wrapped in banana leaves, while older couples waved to us from front porches. Our evening bike rides were so leisure that your mother and I could chat about life and recall everything we were grateful for. Every so often, with your feet dangling in your godsend of a Stokke carrier, you would look up at your mom, nonverbally requesting a kiss, because clearly you could feel the love.