Something remarkable keeps happen on this trip: our restaurant bills disappear. We will stop in a small mom and pop diner, the waitress will undoubtedly inquire what we are doing, and an eavesdropping patron will sneakily pay our tab as we devour whatever food is on the table. It must be magic.
We were invited to stay in a wonderful little church a couple nights ago, and given the opportunity to speak to the Wednesday night bible study. The congregation members were incredibly receptive and encouraging, we were fed, had access to showers, and had a roof over our heads during the worst thunderstorm of the trip. Even better, that church connected us with another church 20 miles down the road that hosted us the next night.
Needing several necessities, like food and water, we stopped in a store yesterday. As Becca and Josh were off collecting goods, I sat in the store cafe trying to map our next move. A man came over to talk to me and ask about our packs. After a brief explanation, he requested that I stay there for five minutes saying he would be right back. And he did come right back. With a fistful of 20s. All totaled, he press $300 in my hand and walked away without even telling us his name. Another man gave us a ride through un-walkable construction and provided us with a tube of glow-stick necklaces, in case we needed to sell them for food. Why he had a tube of 100 glow-stick necklaces in his trunk I’m not sure, but we appreciated it all the same.
Writing from the “not-so-hostel,”
p.s. Really, Indiana Jones. That’s how you’re gonna go out?