The holiday is Over

       The day, Sunday, started before the night was over.  No one seems to know what it was but about 1:00AM, again at 3:30, and about five additional times before 6:00, some horrendously loud obnoxious noise, something like a car alarm or a malfunctioning water pump, blasted in the neighborhood for about 2 to 3 minutes.  So ended the night and started the day.
      Breakfast was pancakes with condiments and juice.  Brian picked us up and darted up and down and all around the windy and delivered us to the church which was also our construction site.  The final driveway was dirt, steep and narrow.  The front of the van stopped at the edge of the construction site at the level that would some day be the third of four levels.  To our left was a steep hill and to the right was a deep steep valley, so the lowest floor walked out the back to ground level and the front also lead to the ground level from the fourth floor.  And they said they bought this lot because it was "level."
     We walked down a ramp to the second level which is to be the parking area and then down a stairs with no banisters when the congregation was gathering.  After being thoroughly greeted by the pastor and his wife, we were ushered to the chairs in the front row.  Rigo, a regional supervisor for the Methodist Church, led us through a mostly Spanish service - but with some English translations.  The room was beautiful and highly technical with three laptops, a projector projected on the wall and a great sound system with an electric piano and guitarist.
      The pastor gave a 40-minute Spanish sermon with interspersed English translations.  Communion was by intinction with three bun sized breads.  Prayers were very heartfelt and songs were full of passion and compassion.  After the service we chatted with some of the congregants, which we could cross the language barrier.  One guest was a student from Boston College who had bed here years ago.  The stories of the individuals are too extensive for this blog; maybe some later.
      Back to our rooms, off to a restaurant for pupusas and tacos which were more like a fajita and on to a village about 45 minutes out to shop for souvenirs.  The roads wound through the hills, small mountains if you will, with roadside stands and numerous shops along the way. Souvenirs were not a top priority but visiting this town which had been a gold and silver mining town converted to a tourist destination was worth the visit.
      Back at our residence for the week, we had our evening meal and sat around sharing stories before we headed to bed knowing that breakfast was to be a 6:30 and work would start bout 7:30.  Good night.