Hans Olav esen Pineda

With our flight being cancelled, Daddy decided it was a good time to take care of his registro nacional de las personas. Every Honduran has a national identification card. His has been in process since his last visit 4 months ago.

We jumped into a cab, and off we went.



Since he was just there to pick up the finished identification card, he didn't need to have any copies of paperwork. When he applied for the new card he found himself walking through the mechanic shop and standing in line to make copies.

The no frills operation sees quite a bit of business right outside of the National Registration Office.



The absence of a line here was a good sign... lines inside should be short. And they were. Last visit Daddy had to take advantage of the "special cases" line, that is those that are disabled, pregnant, or over 60. With the life expectancy at 69, those over 60 deserve a break!

And sure enough, things inside were rather tame. A few men huddled around the teller were checking on their affairs. It's not very organized with many tellers working out of the same window, papers being passed back and forth, and people talking over one another, but it works.



And his card was there. He's Honduran alright.