No matter how humble, there is no place like home.  Copan Ruinas, Honduras; Guatemala; the beaches of Cancun on the Caribbean; the beaches of Merida, Yucatan on the Gulf of Mexico; the thousand-year-old stupendous stone buildings and pyramids my ancestors constructed to build their many magnificent cities; and all the colorful, intricate artisanry redolent of ancient culture created by beautiful people, my people, resurrected in me a pride that I realized anchors my presence to those first ancestors who rose from the middle American jungles over 3,000 years ago to build a far-flung, highly stratified civilization.  I am already planning another journey next spring to visit the ancient Mayan sites of Tikal and Palenque, this one to be entirely overland without a daily itinerary to hinder my movements.  I discovered on my recent travels that the freedom allowed to me by choosing my bus rides whenever lets me linger, wherever.  And at the end of the road, I come home to La Paz, Honduras.  I will post a few pictures after I wind down, for I am expecting a contingent of PCVs from the La Paz area to gather on my rooftop tomorrow for a Fourth of July barbeque.