Choluteca, southern Honduras. If there was ever a place to "have to" stop at to help Gwendal recuperate from some feverish gastro something-or-rather, this quiet market-ridden pueblito wasn't a bad choice at all.
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Don't mind me, I'm just washing my truck in the almost dry river while my kids splash about.
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To me, it looked just like the grass fires of the Norther Territory in Australia. For those, meteo-junkies out there: this fire created a series of little cumulo-fractus just above it's hot source where there were none anywhere nearby. ¿How does that figure into the daisy-world thought-experiment?
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In the dry season, this class, water-buckets in hand, gather every lunch hour at the central plaza to water all the thirsty plants. Refreshing initiative. I feel so tall!
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