I could tell you how great our mountain trail run was this weekend, go on and on about how the views were amazing, how fun it was hanging out in a primitive cabin, etc. Trivial (in the grand scheme of things) stuff, but I won't.
My best experience happened this morning - breakfast.
Our entire group of about 20 had breakfast in a "restaurant" earlier today. I didn't eat because it was a bit early, and I usually just get by with coffee for breakfast. While everybody ordered breakfast, I simply had coffee.
This "restaurant" was in an amazing tiny tiny town named San Antonio de la Alazanas. In reality, it was a family's home. Their living room had about 7 tables where we sat. The front door was open. I mean wide open. The family's mom and dad took everybody's order. Once the orders were placed, I could see the lady making gorditas. I hadn't heard of the slapping of the dough/flour since my grandmother would make them for me. She was walking furiously back and forth multi tasking in the kitchen. The whole while, her husband was refilling our mugs with coffee making sure we were ok. At one point, we suspect he even left to go get more eggs for our group (we saw him walking back in with a bag a while later).
When I went to the restroom to wash my hands, I walked through the rest of their home to get to it. On my way there, I basically had a tour of their home. My only thought was on how everything, nowadays, seems to be about more more more, while they're content with less than what we have.
It's the little things that I take for granted. This family was, I'm guessing, very poor, but very happy. Probably barely making a living. Getting by until a group of people like us are doing the weekend warrior thing running and passing by and decide to stop for breakfast.
I drank my cafe de oya (coffee with cinnamon)...I just simply had coffee, and you know what? It was the best coffee I've EVER had.