Back in the USA

I regularly share some of the challenges of living in a third world country. Like getting a driver's license or registering a car in a country that is technologically challenged. And the ones that have been in Honduras know the challenges with driving. While I have been eagerly anticipating being back in the states, I was the one that was challenged today.

I drove to Staples to take care of a little bit of business. Remembering not to make a turn in front of a car with only a few inches clearance, not really stopping at a stop sign if nothing was coming, and not making u-turns wherever were among the first challenges of the day. And that was nothing compared to the challenges I faced once I walked into Staples. I did not think I had been out of the states that long.

I needed to send a letter overnight. I asked for the form to fill out. I was told it was not done that way anymore. It was all done on the computer. Ok. It still seems easier for me to write or type my own address than what I went through with that clerk. But we finally got that much done. I, then, needed to make three copies. The last time I made copies at Staples, I made my copies and the machine spit out a piece of paper saying how many copies I made and how much I owed. I took it to the cashier and paid. Today, I was told I had to prepay my copies and had to have this credit card thing with my prepayment. I stood there shocked. You have got to be kidding. I have to prepay for three copies or pay for a bunch of copies I will never be able to use.
The clerk used his card and then rang it up on my bill. I felt I had been gone longer from the states than I have been.

This afternoon we went to Little Rock to meet some folks. We got there early and had a little over an hour to kill. We went in Barnes and Noble. Marc said he would buy us a cup of coffee. There I stood in a bookstore, a bookstore with more books in english than in spanish. I had decisions to make. Whether to browse the whole bookstore, to run check out my favorite authors, to go grab a couple of true crimes, or go get that mocha. I stood there for ten minutes, wasting valuable time, trying to decide what to do. I inhaled the scent of books. I hyperventilated being among that many books again. I quickly remembered the weight restrictions now in place by the airlines.

I finally decided an hour would not do justice to a bookstore. I searched out one book that I had been wanting and went to get that mocha. I left off the whipped cream this time. The coffee we drink in Honduras is some of the best in the world. But good mochas are hard to find, except at the Marriott, which is a place that I do not frequent.

Even with the challenges and decisions I am facing, I am having a great time.

Terri