Houston we have a problem . . .

I distinctly remember wondering how on earth I had managed to end up packing so much stuff into my nice new backpack. My first aid kit must take up a third of the space. Not to mention the mask and snorkel and various medical books. And of course my towel.

I promise never to complain about having too much stuff again. Because when it comes right down to it, too much is better than nothing at all. Which is exactly what I have at the moment.
Apparently getting all of us here safely, with all of our belongings was too tall an order for the people at Continental. Four people and five bags became four people and four bags, and I have had the distinct pleasure of trying to express plainly enough to the baggage department of the Guatemala City Airport the importance of my backpack arriving here before I have to leave for Honduras tomorrow.

About half a dozen phone calls later, and enough stress to last me several months, a very friendly and helpful Quebec native who works here in Antigua made one phone call and my backpack miraculously appeared. So now we wait, only a little longer, and I will finally be able to put on clean clothes which are actually my own.

I have learned through this experience that a sign of a true friend is one who will lend you a pair of their underwear . . .