We had so much fun in the village transplanting rice that we took the kids back that evening for dinner, after many invites. We let the girls skip their evening ballet, because this was more important, and we had had an exhausting week.
Typical house:
Typical dog on chain barking next to a water buffalo.
Dusk settles in and Gabrielle and our helper's daughter play in dry mud (and wet mud for that matter).
This man was getting his plot ready for the next day's transplanting.
We walked the village and took Tony and Karen to see the newly dedicated temple
We had run into this lady when we arrived and saw her again on our walk. Without David I ventured into my own minority language conversation...and I did it! Of course it was the basic: Where are you going? Going back home now? Have you eaten? come with me...No, we are going back....go slowly...
Time to wash up...
Grandma (really great-grandma actually) helping set the table.
We ran into the lady that usually does our health inspection every year. I reminded her of how I used to faint on her, and she laughed and of course remembered, she used to say it was because I had too many kids. Really it was because I was a big wimp. But I've gotten over it now and am used to the blood draws.
We got GREAT fresh fruit smoothies (mango pineapple, in season now folks!) and the promised Ramen noodles at the top.
The Marlboro on these hats are misspelled, of course. We have an ongoing game to find the worst English on clothing. Daily new and shocking words adorn the most innocent of Grandmas.
Sophia confessed she doesn't like it either, though we love the stair hike.
We show every guest this place, it overlooks the city and is telling of the hearts of the people here. Their longings, heartaches, fears, and hopes are brought here.
We are just alike...but by the grace of God...
