i just made some delicious soup everybody

chipilín. mmmmm tasty.

anona is a delicious fruit. it looks like an artichoke but it ain´t....it´s sweet and pulpy and has lots of black seeds.

igor and kaiser love each other very much. that is true.

awesome dusk rainbow i saw the other day...NO BIG DEAL.

two cipotes with igor, up at their school

kiddies in class...poor bastards.

poor little lisbeth, now one appendix less.

1 September 2010

Hey, chochachos! Want to know what is Hella Delicious? MINT TEA PLUS ALLSPICE. It’s like…10,000 hot ‘n slurpy candycanes all up in my mouthhole, dancin’ around to the Jingle-something-rock and then later making you have to go pee. Mmmm. Ain’t that what Christmas is all about? Dancing and then later, peeing? It’s true I have the Season of Sweaters on the brain…though it’s only September, I now have a PLANE TICKET HOME TO AMERICA WHERE THE PIES RUN FREE AND YOUR MOMMA MAKES YOU WAFFLES ON SUNDAYS. And since I am now wriggling with excitement at the thought of trampling the grass of my motherland, all I can think about is wearing long pants, socks, and hells of wool. As a dedicated, card-carrying Sweaty Individual, I do enjoy the hot ‘n balmy more than anything, but after nearly 2.5 years of that I am ready to binge on icy rain and other such delights found in Norcal in the wintertime. Plus In ‘n Out. Everybody get ready to see some binging in that realm as well. Naum naum naum.

Anyways. Mark your agendas, folks and ladies, cause I am gonna drink my first soda-beverage sweetened with corn syrup in two years on November 6 (Hondurans do it with cane sugar). For those of you currently regarding your Hayley Scrapbook with furrowed brows, you’re correct that as I began my service in September of 2008, oughn’t I be done in September 2010? The answer is YEP. And done in September I shall be…the 24^th to be precise. However, I got some unfinished business in this here region, mainly involving tending to my illegal alpaca farm up in Guatemala, which I have been unable to see to as a Peace Corps volunteer (damn government passport!) My dear pal and darling Adventure Associate Kayleigh shall be joining me in early October, at which point we’ll get all UP in Guatemala’s face for three weeks, possibly giving a cursory head-nod to Belize, and of course our secret island (the one where the illegal alpaca farm is). Should be las tetas, if you receive my meaning….and I think that you do. After said darling bosom friend departs for the Land of the Free, I shall return to my site (SURPRISE!! Buahaha) and fetch my life partner, Igor, who shall be immediately whisked to the vet for a very official, multi-sealed (arr! arr! clapping of flippers!) Health Certificate that says he is healthy as a dog can be and thus fit for entry into the states (and if he aint, I’m prepared to do the ‘ol pretending-to-sneeze-but-instead-of-snot-i-secretly-throw-ten-dollars-over-the-counter maneuver). Then we’ll return to Alubarén, spend a few last days with my pueblo, celebrate Igor’s 2^nd birthday on the 5^th, and then, on NOVEMBER SIXTH…hooray and hot damn but if it ain’t ol Hayley, eatin’ our sandwiches and siphoning gas outta our cars! Guys, she’s back!!

If two months ahead of departure seem mildly premature for such giddy yakking, then you can just paint me purple and call me Little Miss Prema-Yak, cause I am delighted to be returning home to my warm, snuggly family and all them Tasty Situations. I still am incredulous that departing a place I have lovingly lived in for two years has yet to incite great wracking sobs, or even muted sniffles disguised as a cold, but I reckon that as the real departure looms closer I shall begin to feel the grief and despair I search for. Until then, I’ma continue to loop the mental reel of the moment in which momma and poppa Kercher fetch me at the San Francisco airport, arms all wide and beckoning, eyes all misty, hands all full of In ‘n Out. Be careful! Do not drop my milkshake.

Work-wise, I am just wrapping everything up in a NEAT LITTLE PACK-AGE (to quote Homer). My English/teaching methodology class, abstinence education and sex-ed class, pregnant women’s club, reading tutoring, dental hygiene classes, hypertension workshops…it’s all over, chochachos. Now all I’ve got left are the obligatory “clausuras” (like a graduation ceremony) that are expected at the termination of any activity. Cake and soda are shared, diplomas are handed out, photos are taken (Hondurans are particularly fond of the inspiring “let’s pose stiffly while you shake my hand with your left and hand me my diploma with your right, staring stonily at the camera”) and everyone races home to beat the rain. Hooray!

The folks here in Alubarén are all now aware that I’m on my way out, and I get asked “Ya se va?” about 40 times a day (“You leaving now?”). Yes. Ya me voy. The next question is inevitably, “Well, what tasty little morsel of gringa wealth are you going to leave me as a memento to our deep and lasting friendship? How bout that hammock? You takin’ that mini-fridge back to the States with ya? Can I have your pants? Give me your pants.” Etc. I have begun to slyly give away random articles of clothing (like my stack of Mysteriously Stained Underpants…mmm, funky) and such, but I’m still dreading the deluge of demands I know awaits me. But I do want to give away all my crap; I don’t need it and you should see the way folks’ faces light up at the presentation of gym shorts or plastic dishware. But as an American, the whole “don’t ask for a present” dogma is so engraved in my mind that even though I am perfectly AWARE that asking for something you fancy is not rude in Honduran culture, I still can’t curb the reflexive desire to give things to those who do NOT ask, and stubbornly deny those who do. Screw YOU, impoverished elderly woman asking for a coffee cup! Get the hell off my porch!

Not everyone is reacting to my pending departure that way, though…my best friends, Nely and the kids (the country jam band) are simply doing the same thing I am, which is making a real effort to SUCK that juice outta every moment we have together…goin’ to the swimmin’ hole or river instead of spending the afternoon in the hammock, cooking dinner together instead of alone (tonight we made “chipilín,” which is a strangely delicious green leafy bush you first boil and then fry in lard and salt…who knew vegetation could be so slurpygood?), and making tenderhearted comments every other day about how much we adore one another (oodles). Especially my little novio, Douglas…my god but do I love that kid.

A quick summary of things that have happened since my last blog, for those of you are more action oriented and less concerned with lame-ass prattling:

· My delightful pal Eddie (of peace corps fame) came to visit for a weekend and we spent three days leaping into swimming holes (obviously), eating as much corn as my neighbors could shove at us, and playing with dolls. And Matchbox cars (thanks again, Leetha!).

· I purchased a shiny, solid-gold kennel crate for my one and only love muffin, Igor. He is in love with the idea of having his own personal fort in which to sleep and fart (the apple doesn’t fall far) and I anticipate no problems in hauling him to America in it, provided he likes hanging out in forts for 12 hours at a time. I plan on drugging him moderately for the voyage, which is how forts should be enjoyed anyway.

· Alubarén celebrated her annual Feria (town fair), which was unremarkable, unless you think shooting off cannon-esque firecrackers for 15 straight minutes every night at 4:00am for 7 days is remarkable. Which I do not. Also, there were the annual ‘catch that greasy pig’ and ‘sexiest 6-year-old in town’ competitions, which were adorable and repugnant, respectively.

· My dear little 9-year-old friend Lisbeth (she lives across the street with Nely, who is her aunt) very nearly died from a burst appendix, and has been in the hospital since August 10^th. She is still there, but should be released any day now. Maybe the scariest episode of my life.

· I contracted, suffered through, and recovered from the infamous mosquito-borne Dengue Fever…though I had no fever to speak of and participated in the annual Peace Corps Olympics with nary a hitch. My only symptom? A freaky-ass rash all over my body. Blotchy goodness.

· Igor and his brother Kaiser both spent a week as very sick little dudes, puking out their ears (so to speak) and yelping in pain every time they tried to eat something. I think my neighbor poisoned them with bologna, which she has threatened to do twice in the past (though not specifically with bologna). Too bad she and her tainted meats are no match for the strength of Honduran mutts. If she does it again, though, I will shank her in the goddamn kidneys until the Bad Blood comes and she Dies.

· The wet season continues to shake its damp hide all over Honduras, spraying the country with road-destroying droplets and that distinctive wet-dog smell. People all over the country have been losing homes due to the incessant downpours (people are losing lives, too) and all kinds of roads are washed out. The buses haven’t been able to leave Alubarén for a week now and the sky is sagging from all that heavy weight. Time to get some rainbow suspenders from the Goodwill, sky. The good side, though, is that all this rain makes the butterflies get ALL up in our faces, which makes strolling around outside just a delightful event. Seriously, there are so many bright and stripeity fellas flitting around you’d think it was Butterfly Pride Week. “Flippy-flippy flutter-flutter! What ends with fly and starts with butter! We are citizens of the Meadow and we demand our Constitutional Rights!” Etc. Plus, while the sky has yet to convert them into an elastic support system, we are averaging about 1.9 rainbows per week, which is just downright Special.

· The new volunteer who shall replace me has been appointed by the Peace Corps Crew, and it is none other than the delightful Margaret, an ebullient dame who I met during a trainee event. She’s got sunshine leaking out of her eyeballs and I can’t think of a better match for this town…the kids are gonna adore her. Unfortunately, she IS a blonde bombshell, which only serves to perpetuate the widely-held misconception among Hondurans that all gringas are blonde, blue-eyed and giggly. I will pass down to her my ugliest man-shorts, though, which should help deter some of the more forward young men in this pueblo.

Well, that about does it for today. We shall now begin the Final Countdown (do-do-dooo-do, do-do-dodo-dooooo, etc.) and please expect only one or two more blog-sandwiches before this remarkably-un-sundamaged lady ends the sweatiest, most far-out adventure of her tiny life to-date and heads home to the land of bacon and blueberry farms. Gonna be great.

Looooove,

Hayley and Igor (who is in his fort right now, tuckered out from stone-cold murdering a tarantula for me with his bare (no, not bear, dog) paws. Talk about earning your keep.