Honduras is Awesome and I love it and hooray!!

Hey chochachos!!
Here are like a jillion weeks worth of blogs, all rolled into one delicious handmade corn tortilla. The most recent is at the top. ADIOS!

18 July 2008
Hey, chochachos! It’s Friday night here, and I’m all tucked into bed so I can get up nice and early for school tomorrow. That’s right, Peace Corps is slowly and stealthily obliterating the two-day weekend for us gringos. It’s okay though, it’s just a half day and I’m pretty sure it’s going to involve cultural dancing of some variety (clearly the best variety of dancing). I bought a cell phone today, which was weird. I initially didn’t want to get one, I thought it would cheapen my whole “living without unnecessary beepy things” lifestyle, but living in the campo is a little lonely sometimes and I changed my mind. I immediately called my folks, and gave them my number so they could call me back (it’s insanely expensive to call the states here on a cell phone). It’s free for me to receive calls, so if anyone wants to call me, just dial: 011 (out-going code) + 504 (country code) + 9598-7436. (In total, 011-504-9598-7436). I don’t know exactly what it costs for you guys to call me, but I don’t think it’s too expensive…you can also download Skype and call cell-phones from your computer for pretty cheap, or buy a calling card. Anyway, I can’t call you guys (seriously it’s grossly expensive), so if anyone wants to hear my sassy voice, gimme a ring and I shall answer!

Life continues at a delightful rate. Last Sunday Suyapa, the kids and I went to her sister’s home in nearby Valle de Angeles to spend the day. Her sister has an 18-year-old daughter, and it was fun to hang out with a Honduran who is about my age. We spent the day lounging around, listening to the rain, napping on the bed, drinking soy coffee (basically, you burn the dickens out of soybeans in the oven and brew the remains like coffee…it sounds like something desperate immates would bew (if they were in a soy-only hippie jail I guess) but it tastes awesome!!), eating carrot muffins, and chatting. Really relaxing and just great. I love getting to know the extended family; it makes me feel more connected to the Honduran people, even though it’s just one large family.

On Tuesday night, our little colony threw us gringos a welcome party. One of the neighbors had us and our families over, and we ate chicken and rice, drank coke and danced to punta and reggaeton until the roosters crowed (just kidding, we went to bed at 9:30 and the roosters rarely stop crowing, no matter what time of day or night it is). It was hilarious because Hondurans seem to have a natural ability to wiggle their hips and shimmy their feet and gringos just CAN’T (except for the ones that could…I guess I’m just talking about myself, here, in terms of awkward gringos who can’t dance). I prefer to dance about in a ridiculous manner since trying to look graceful or sexy isn’t really going to happen. I wish I had pictures of the incredulous looks that were shot my way when I started doing my “churn the butter dance.” (This basically involves miming the following while singing the following: “churn the butter, churn the butter, make the toast, make the toast, put the butter on the toast, now EAT that toast, eat that toast, now share that toast with all your friends, share that toast with all your friends, now make more butter…” Seriously. Priceless. I offered to teach the snickering teenagers how they, too, could churn the butter, but no one was interested. I don’t know why. Culture shock?

Training (capacitacion) continues on, but it’s more intense than I thought it would be. I get up at 5:30 every day, and classes begin at 7:30. We have about four hours of Spanish class, followed by lunch and several hours of other types of training (general Honduran information, or seminars/excursions/activities related to Youth Development). The language stuff is crazy…there are about 9 levels we could test into, and I somehow landed in Advanced-Intermediate Plus, which is a step below Low-Advanced. I thought I would test in Intermediate-Intermediate, so I was hella surprised to find out I’d surpassed that. However, they put me in a class with four other students who are all either Low-Advanced or Intermediate-Advanced. It’s kind of overwhelming at times because I feel like I’m holding them back every time I don’t get some concept they all understand. I feel like my Spanish has gotten worse since I’ve arrived, though perhaps I’m just more aware of my errors. I understand almost all of what’s said to me, and I can understand how the grammar is supposed to work, but when I speak, all that comes out of my mouth is jumbly direct translations and fumbled indirect pronouns. I also seem to have forgotten all my irregulars. I’m trying to study as much as possible on my own, but it’s hard because I never seem to have a spare minute!! I arrive home (greeted on the dirt path by my two screaming little sisters, bellowing HERMANA! HERMANA! and racing to greet me each day), help with dinner, eat dinner, play with the girls, put them to bed, and then it’s 9:00 and I’m exhausted!! They’re great little Spanish teachers, though (they speak VERY clearly for such young kids) so I suppose practicing with them is better than reading the grammar alone. The only problem is, I keep practicing my mistakes and I can’t seem to get any of it right. I’m actually concerned I might drop a level.

Because I live in a little colony on a muddy road in the mountains, my social life is very different than it was in the states. I spent almost all my spare time with my family, and very little spare time with any gringos. There is no way for me to get anywhere at night, and even during the day, I have to walk for half an hour before I get to the main road where I could potentially hail a bus. There is no going out here—I haven’t had a beer, been in a bar or a club, or done anything else socially appropriate for my age bracket since I was in the states. And since I am going to be a Youth Development volunteer, working with kids and encouraging them to make healthy life decisions, I am not allowed to (nor would I want to) do any of those things in my future community. Women do not typically drink or socialize in bars in Honduras, especially in rural communities (I guess this rule doesn’t really apply in Tegus or San Pedro Sula, the big cities). People who drink or go to bars, especially in rural communities, are perceived to be (and often are) folks (well, men) who only drink to get drunk. Therefore, it is quite inappropriate that a young, single woman, attempting to be perceived as a professional volunteer working with children, would participate in any of those activities, even if she was just going to a bar to hang out (like we do in the states). At first, accepting the idea that I wasn’t really going to be going out on weekends, going to parties or socializing with young people in bars was sort of hard—this was a big part of college life—but I’ve come to embrace the idea of truly living as a role model for youth for the next two years. I’m actually really excited about it (which is good, considering I don’t have a choice). I suppose I will meet other young people in my community, but how I’m perceived by locals plays a HUGE hand in my success as a volunteer and gossip (chisme) spreads like wildfire in these tiny communities. I’ll have to watch not only what I do, but also who I hang out with and how they’re perceived. This is all sort of speculative, but it ties in with my new role as a youth volunteer (well, trainee) and what exactly that means.

I only have two more weeks here with my family, before they ship me off with the other Youth Development volunteers to receive Field-Based Training (FBT) in another site (with another family). After six weeks there, I’ll return to my current host family for two more weeks of Post-Field-Based Trained (PFBT). After that (11 weeks in total), I’ll hopefully be sworn in as official Peace Corps Volunteer and begin my two years of service in my new community (yet undecided). I very much want to be placed in the mountains and/or forest, but I don’t think they place many Youth Development volunteers there, so I guess I’ll just take whatever they give me. I secretly wish, rather profoundly at times, that I was working in the Protected Areas Management group—they get to save trees, live in the jungle, build stuff and dig up stuff. I feel like I’ve been working with kids for the past eight years or more, and will be doing it for the rest of my life, so I wish I’d applied for the PAM program instead—it would have been a much more unique experience for me. However, I’m trying not to dwell on that and am attempting to approach my YD role without any regrets. I’m also hoping I can combine the two, but that will be much harder if my future community isn’t in an area affected by Protected Areas.

I guess I’d better go…I have to get up early tomorrow for class, and the walk to the bus stop is going to be a fun one (it’s been pouring for about three hours, so I can only imagine the swampy-swampy goodness that’s a-brewin’ outside…yesterday, our school bus carrying us out of our training side almost fell off the side of the mountain (well, more like almost slid into a shallow ravine off the side of a hill), and then got stuck in the mud. All 50 gringos couldn’t push it out, so we have to walk out to the main road and take a regular Honduran bus—our first one ever!!).
I miss you guys a lot (seriously) and I love you all very much (also seriously). Please write to me if you want to!! I will try to send more letters (I’ve only sent one so far, to my grandma) but stamps here are hella expensive and we only get a tiny bit of money. Paz!

12 July 2008
Once we got to the little town outside of Tegucigalpa, Valle de Angeles, we camped out in a hotel for the night—each little cabin came with a porch and a hammock! I climbed a tree and drank a ton of coffee. After a bit of orientation and some Spanish lessons, we trooped over the town where we’ll all be staying for the next several weeks and waited for our host families to come fetch us. I waited to be given the sheet describing my new family, hoping I’d get some young children to play with. So when I saw my sheet read three children, ages six months, three years, and six years, I was SEVEN KINDS OF HAPPY!! I ran outside and my host mom found me, clutching the baby, Javier, to her chest. They loaded us into vans and drove us to the separate little communities where we all were. My host mom, Suyapa, is young, chatty, and really, really nice. She is honest and doesn’t beat around the bush about stuff—very down to earth and has a great sense of humor. We spent hours tonight just talking on the couch, and the more time I spend with her, the more I love her. Her husband, Javier, is also nice and equally young. I haven’t spent as much time with him but he’s very intelligent and likes to talk about books, English, and politics. He’s also hilarious and seems like a very sweet man—he’s great with his little girlies. The girls, Madeline, 3, and Melani, 5, are AMAZING!! The day I arrived, walking up toward the crooked gate made of branches, they came bolting from the porch screaming “MY SISTER IS HERE! MY SISTER IS HERE!” I had about 100 pounds of Honduran love in my arms before I knew what hit me. We’ve basically been inseparable since then…Suyapa told me they hunker down by the gate to wait for me at 3:30pm every day, and sobbed yesterday when I was late coming home. They always call me “hermanita” (technically this means “little sister” but I think it’s pretty evident I’m older, so I’m taking this as a term of endearment) and occasionally the little one will ask me, “Usted come se llama?” because she can never remember my name—Hayley seems to be pretty hard to pronounce for Hondurans. As soon as I come in the house, they grab me by my hand and drag me to my room so I can unlock it (Peace Corps makes us lock our doors when we’re not home to prevent incidents, because neighbors and kids are forever passing through) and they can feast their eyes on my gringo goodies…everything is fascinating for them. They quickly discovered where I hide my candies and little toys I brought for Honduran kids, and if I don’t know where Madeline is, chances are she’s in my room, squatting by my suitcase and admiring the candies within (though she’s very honest and won’t take one without asking first!).

I love their house. It’s in a little community of about 15 casas which all look pretty much the same. They’re small but comfortable, made of brick with tin roofing, and line a muddy dirt road. Most have a little porch or a patio. Ours has a steeply sloping tiny yard with a couple small trees, lots of bushes, and a big pen with five rabbits inside! They race around all day, chasing each other and eating leftover vegetables. A couple roosters cluck around the yard, too. The inside of the house has a large main room which serves as both kitchen and living room, big enough for a couch, an armchair, a table, three kitchen chairs, and a couple storage racks against the walls. They also have a shelf where they keep a small TV and a stereo! Tonight we watched the Honduras vs Guatemala soccer game. The kitchen area is simple but clean, with a four-burner electric stove and a sink. Water, however, doesn’t flow through the taps—they have a giant pila in the backyard, which is basically a huge concrete basin. This is filled once a week when the municipal government turns on the water, and this is then used for the entire week for all bathing and washing. There is a big bowl in the sink we fill with water from the pila, and to wash dishes, we just dab a bit of soap onto the plate, splash some water onto it from with bowl with our hands, swish it around, and then put it aside to dry. It’s a great system because it doesn’t waste as much water and everything comes out just as clean. They have a giant water cooler filled with bottled water, just like one you’d find in the office, in the corner of the kitchen area. We use this water for all drinking, cooking, and tooth-brushing! I carry a little water-bottle of it into the bathroom and use this to rinse off my toothbrush. And I LOOOOVE bathing here! It’s so rad. When I get up in the morning at 5:30am, Suyapa usually has a huge pot of water already on the stove for me, heating up. I eat my cereal and we chat while I wait for my water. Once it’s warm, I carry it into the shower and set it on the floor. Then I use a little dish to splash water all over myself, get all soapy, and then rinse! Seriously, I love this and I don’t ever want to take a shower again…there is something very satisfying about bucket baths. I don’t wash my hair every day, maybe once every three days, and I don’t look like a total grease-ball. I can’t, actually, Peace Corps has very strict rules about our appearance and our professionalism, and this includes several pages of rules that basically delineate the ways in which we are NOT to be dirty hippies. (Suckers! My legs are mega hairy!! Silent rebellion!!!)

The food here is DELICIOUS. Do you know what is delicious? Beans. Cheese. Rice. Home-made tortillas. Fried bananas. Eggs. Tomatoes. That’s what they eat here, and I loooove it. It does sit a little heavy in my stomach, but I told Suyapa how much I love fruits and vegetables and she arrived today after taking two long bus trips to the capital (the only place to go grocery shopping around here, weirdly enough) with three huge bags, over-flowing with broccoli, green beans, cucumbers, star fruit, passion fruit, yuca, lettuce, tomatoes, avocados, passion fruits, oranges, apples, sweet peppers, onions, potatoes…and more. She is a great cook and I love eating with her…it’s very casual. Usually Javier, the father, isn’t home by dinnertime, so Suyapa, the kids and I sit down around the table. She usually has Javier Jr. on her lap, poking bits of egg or dribbling coffee into his mouth (seriously), Melani sits alone, and Madeline and I share a chair (there are only three). Madeline likes to eat my food instead of hers, so I usually let her pick off my plate and then I just eat hers. Then I often offer to wash the dishes and Suyapa gives Javier his bottle while I rinse things off. Then we sit on the couch, chatting or playing. Last night, little Madeline put on my headlamp and we turned off the lights. She spent like 20 minutes trotting around the kitchen table, making train noises and giggling hysterically. Then I sat on the armchair facing the wall and made shadow puppets with the girlies. This is a very happy, affectionate and loving family, and I’m so happy here. Suyapa and I mesh on a lot of levels, I’m discovering…today we had a long discussion about the benefits of living on what one has, being happy with what is possible to obtain and not stressing out about the little things. She gave the example of their couch…it’s pretty ratty, full of holes and the upholstery is raggedy. But, she says, it works, doesn’t it? A couch is there for you to sit on, not to look beautiful. She tucks a sheet over the holes and the problem is solved. Life is short, why waste precious time, energy, and money on things that aren’t absolutely necessary? I couldn’t agree more, though I don’t claim to be as zen about it as she is…I definitely surround myself in things I don’t actually need. It’s a beautiful outlook on like, however, and I’m trying to adapt it as best I can.

It’s not as hot here as I thought it would be, though that has a lot to do with the fact we’re in the mountains and not the lowlands. It’s humid and rains every day. When it’s cloudy or raining, it’s cool enough to warrant a sweatshirt or long pants, but when the sun is out…let’s just say I’m glad I brought my green Adventure hat. Today, for the first time, I ventured out my little house and wandered among the other houses up and down the road. There were lots of kids playing outside, to whom I waved and shouted “Hola Amigos!” The younger kids always say hi back, but some of the adolescents just stare or giggle to each other. I had lunch today at the house of another gringa named Bug, and then my gringo friend Patrick and I went on a hike with his little host siblings. It was really fun, the kids were really sweet and chatty (14-year-old Luis, 8-year-old Walter, and 12-year-old Nasaret). Patrick is a rad guy, as well, and I’m happy we’re friends. We wound all around the colina (colony) on the dirt roads and eventually bush-whacked into the pine forest. No paths, but it wasn’t very dense so walking was easy. It was amazing!! We raced down hills, jumped across gullies, poked at mushrooms, hurled pinecones into the deep valleys, and gawked (well, I gawked, the kids were unfazed) at the waterfalls across the way. We had stopped to take a rest when, suddenly, the sky went dark, the wind picked up, and a huge storm blew in! We sprinted back up the mountain toward some houses. A woman leaned out her window and shouted to come inside to get away from the storm. When we got there, I realized we were above the house and had to drop down through the roofing into her little backyard patio (she was built up against a hill). She fetched us a rickety ladder and we slid down…only then, did I realize, this stranger was actually Patrick’s host mom and my house was just across the road. Life is full of delightful surprises, dudes.

11 July 2008
Hey, chochachos! I’m currently lounging on the twin bed in my very own room at my host family’s house, typing on my laptop and pretending I have internet. Actually, it’s awesome not having g-mail and Achewood.com as constant distractions—I spend a lot less time staring at my computer screen and lot more time staring at other, more interesting and less fluorescent objects, like my host family. But more on them in a bit…

We arrived at the San Pedro Sulo airport last Wednesday the 9th at about noon or so. Or maybe it was like 2:30pm, I don’t remember. We had “woken up” at like 2:30am the night before (aka I lay down for an hour and fretted about the preterito grammar tense until my alarm went off), so my sense of time and place was hells of wonky. I recall trying to figure out if, since 20 lempiras is about one US dollar, than 100 lempiras must be…it was so difficult, I just gave up. (For those of us counting along at home, 100 divided by 20 is 5!). After arrival, we stepped out into the SUFFOCATING humidity, accepted bananas and thick delicious juice drinks handed to us by Peace Corps officials, and clamored upon a bus to take us six hours southly to Tegucigalpa (well, the town next to Tegucigalpa where we would be staying). We were actually supposed to fly directly from Miami to the Tegucigalpa airport, but there was a nasty crash there a couple months ago and they only just reopened it for travel (for those of you who have ever flown into Tegus, you can probably attest to the terribly short runway that was the culprit of this fatal crash). Anyway, since I rather hate being in plane crashes and rather enjoy drinking in the overwhelming sights that is beautiful Honduras, I didn’t mind the bus ride one bit. They also played “Honey, I Blew up the Kid” (I think we all know this as the incredible work of cinematic wonder that is the sequel to “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids!”). This film was dubbed in Spanish and, if I may say so, was severely excellent. This was followed by part 1 of Ben Hur.

I was so overwhelmed as we lurched along the roads. We were boarded on each side by huge fields of fruit trees (mangos, I think) and some sort of tall, thick grass that I couldn’t decipher. OH MY GOD SPIDER!!!!!!! Jesus. I just saw a brown spider scurry into a corner…holy moly. In case no one has ever seen me near an arachnid, it takes a lot for me to let it go into the corner without squishing it or removing it, depending my current bravery level. I am trying to get used to things like that here in the campo, and let me tell you, among all the new aspects of my life here, spiders are the hardest to adjust to. And Honduras isn’t even that bad, comparatively speaking…most spiders here are small and non-dangerous (I have yet to see a tarantula!). Anyway, as I was saying before Senor Arana gave me a freaking heart attack, the six-hour bus ride was great. Honduras is incredibly beautiful, in ways I can’t even describe…well, that’s a lie. I can describe it. And so I shall! GREEN. Everything is brilliantly green. It’s a beautiful, crazy mixture of dense pine trees and bright tropical plants with huge leaves, offering bananas, mangos, and other delicious items. It looks exactly like the tropical jungle I always imagined it would. It’s depressing because among all this incredible natural beauty there are just heaps of trash…but as my gringa friend pointed out today, it’s better than it was 15 years ago and progress doesn’t happen over night. Anyway, the bus trucked on and I forced myself to stay awake as much as possible. We stopped at a little place with a tiny market, a merry-go-round, and two huuuuuge cages containing toucans, parrots, macaws, a peacock, and some sad looking tortoises. It was pretty depressing…I couldn’t figure out why they were there, since it was free to look at them. Weird.