Back on Southern Soil

I'm not sure what it is that makes oversized white rocks so compelling, but the sight of the Rocky Mountains as seen from the sky--their thousand peaks sharply defined in shadow and light--certainly tends to invoke in the viewer twinges of awe.

At least that's what I decided again as our plane passed over them enroute to Seattle, and then to San Diego. The sound of a hearty "Hola!" that greeted us as we stepped out of our taxi soon after landing let us know that we had reached our YWAM group. The following hours found our procession of white YWAM vans cruising southbound, along the Baja peninsula as the lowering sun played on the desert around us. Onwards stretched the highway, through cultivated valleys and white-washed Spanish cities, passed tumble weed-riddled fences and between mountains flanked with twisted cactus.

At last, after the colours around us had faded into darkness, we pulled in front of a familiar green taco shop. As soon as I stepped out and walked up to the open-air front of the building, one of the ladies standing there smiled at me and did the motions for making a string figure. Surprised, I nodded excitedly "yeah--that was me!" and she gave me a hug. I couldn't believe she still recognised me after a full year as the girl who had done the string figures one other night, many months ago.

After downing a few very good, very authentic tacos--and of course a bottle of Manzana Lift, I ran out to the van to return again with a multicoloured string. I'm counting what time we spent there as a highlight of our trip (even though the trip has only begun), as we played with the kids and browsed at the little market. Soon however, the time came to file back in the van and complete the drive to the orphanage. When my feet hit the sandy ground as I stepped out of the van, something else hit me: the smell of the night air, the sight of a sky full of stars, and the realisation this is going to be a great week!