When friends tell me of their simultaneous bowel/vomiting inducing intestinal parasites, I try to comfort them, but can’t exactly relate because the Ferguson stomach, which we all know is an iron tank, appears to protect me against anything (knock on wood)! I laugh, so comfortably, whenever my friends call me about weird bug stories because I have yet to have a nasty encounter…
SWEET JESUS what is on my shirt?!
Not sitting so pretty now, am I??
So I’m doing some laundry this morning and I had left all my t-shirts to soak the night before. I seem to incapable of getting anything clean and soaking seems to be, in my twisted mind, the missing link. So I scrub out my shirt on the washboard, making sure to hit the pits stains a couple of extra times, rinse and hang. Well, I hang the shirt up and I notice what looks to be dirt … “Dammit Hannah, you can’t get anything clean!” I scratch the “dirt” with my nail because scratching it off counts as “clean,” and I realize that the dirt is unusually hard and hasn’t budged … HRRMMMM.
Whatever it is is under my shirt … :Hannah peaks:
“WHAT THE HECK IS THAT?! OH MY GOD! SO GROOOOOOSSSSS!”
God, I gotta call someone. I abandon the shirt and run into the kitchen.
A) Becky – No answer.
B) Darren – No answer.
PEOPLE THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!
C) Kathryn – ANSWER!
Me: “BUG. BUG. Weird bug on my shirt! So gross. Help me!”
Kathryn: “What? I can’t understand … :I tell her the story: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Take a picture!”
Seriously, I’m writing this blog in the moment. I have moved my computer and chair outside because the weird alien bug (still clinging to my shirt) is on my kitchen table (I took her advice and took pictures). This thing is a cross between a spider and a scorpion. SO GROSS! I can’t … I might just trash this shirt so I don’t have to deal with trying to get it off. Luckily, it’s dead from the pila. EWWWWW I can’t handle this. NOT COOL! I’m so desperate I want to go over to the construction guys and have them get it off my shirt. I so would if it weren’t for the fact they’d make fun of me for the rest of my life. I can’t … I’m going to ignore it for a while and just finish my laundry. If there are more … Dear God if there are more …
- Several Days Later -
I think that shirt hung on my clothes line for 4 - 5 days. Dimitry had to stay over last night and I finally made him take it off. He thought it was awesome and I though it needed to relinquish my shirt from its fangs. Every time I walked past the shirt I eyed it, warily, out of the corner of my eyes. Not cool. Not cool.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
Thanksgiving Eat-Fest 2009
For Thanksgiving I went to my friends’ house along with eleven other Volunteers from my group. Rach and Mo were kind enough to host all of us in their house, which is pretty tight for that many people. Most of us arrived on Wednesday and spent the day catching up and getting acquainted with Marcala.
Thursday, the big day, a few of us girls woke up early and went for a “Turkey Trot” before we went back to the house and started cooking. I’ll just say this, I am incredibly impressed that Rachel and Kathryn (the two main cooks for the festivities) were able to pull off such an amazing meal. Rachel had the dishes on a schedule down to the minute of when they should start being prepared and the ingredients that were needed. The rest of us took turns chopping and doing dishes to make sure that the flow of the cooking could continue. With four electric coils, one small toaster oven and limited cooking utensils, these girls made one of the most amazing meals I’ve had in my life (and the water wasn’t working half of the day)!
All I did those couple of days was eat amazing food:
Breakfast (Thanksgiving Day) – Fruit salad and delicious banana bread
Appetizers: Deviled eggs, guacamole, humus and chopped veggies
Thanksgiving dinner: Turkey (16 lb. Butter Ball), creamed spinach, dinner rolls, mashed potatoes, cranberries, sweet potatoes, green beans, stuffing and there might have been more, but I don’t remember ...
We didn’t end up killing the Honduran turkey and I’m not quite sure why, but Rach and Mo went and bought a turkey in Comayagua, which turned out awesome! A friend of Rachel’s allowed us to use her oven for the five hours it took to cook the turkey and such things.
I don’t know what else there is to tell about Thanksgiving. At different points of the day there were any number of us outside, pacing the road, talking to family. A dog died right out in front of their house and there were millions of vultures around the carcass. It was really gross, but hard to avoid looking at as the phone is passed around to various family members.
I thought this was pretty hilarious … So Friday morning we wake-up and people are stirring, making coffee and getting ready to depart, etc. Well, 13 people staying in a house puts considerable amount of stress on the bathroom in terms of using the shower and well, the toilet. Why does it seem that all stories about Honduras rise from the bathroom?
Me and Plank were walking around town, getting some fresh air and stretching our legs when we get the fateful call: “Can you guys buy a plunger?” Uh oh. Well, all of those who claimed talent at plunging toilets were unsuccessful and after a considerable amount of time with the crappy plunger (pun NOT intended) the plungers resorted to sticks and hot water. There were two main plumbers who trudged in and out of the house with sticks of various length and girth. Every now and then Mo would wander in to check on the state of his bathroom and each time emerged, practically dry heaving and complaining about the poo water being tracked all over his house.
For the 1.5 hours that I think the toilet was clogged there was much discussion about the emergency situation that we were nearing as “the coffee [started] to kick in!” and Thanksgiving dinner has finished it’s … journey though the digestive track. I have accompanying pictures of people finally leaving the house (with toilet paper because Hondurans seemed to always have a toilet paper shortage) to find bathrooms. It was pretty hilarious, but that might be because I wasn’t in dire need of a bathroom. The toilet eventually was unclogged, but our little adventure prompted a nostalgic discussion of “industrial flush” toilets in the U.S.
Life in Honduras generally results in odd conversations and events. For example:
- The multi-HOUR conversation on all types of “that” girl at parties that the guys carried on
- The conversation that followed was “that” guy
- The various wiping methods of the hombres in attendance at the party
- A lengthy vote on the name of Rach and Mo’s new kitten, which ended in Snarf (his given name) being held up to the white board to chose his name …
Weird.
I want to say that the Hondurans have Americans beat when it comes to how early they put up Christmas decorations. I’d say the week before Thanksgiving people here started putting up their decorations and more notably Christmas-y things started to be sold. I was amazed. I recall that last year Christmas decorations and music could be seen/heard the week of Thanksgiving. Here, they had us beat. It’s ridiculous. There are Christmas trees and lights in most houses. The outside lights haven’t made as much of an appearance, but even public places have all their decorations out. It’s really weird seeing all these things that remind me of, well, Christmas and cold weather. I went to Laura’s house this afternoon to watch some T.V. and was weirded out by her Christmas tree and the unseasonably warm weather occurring at the same time. I don’t know how I feel about this.
I must say, that I’m not as annoyed with the Christmas decorations coming out so early as I was in the States. Maybe that’s because it still doesn’t feel like Christmas or Christmas is so much less commercialized here that it appears less calculated and more sincere.
That’s pretty much it on my Thanksgiving festivities. It was great to be around good friends and not feel as homesick as I had expected. We had great food and great (or interesting) conversation and it was a welcome vacation.
I hope that everyone also had a wonderful and satisfying Thanksgiving. I want to give my thanks and recognition to Rachel for being an amazing cook and sport at having the gathering hosted at her house and Kathryn for being an amazing chef as well!
Thursday, the big day, a few of us girls woke up early and went for a “Turkey Trot” before we went back to the house and started cooking. I’ll just say this, I am incredibly impressed that Rachel and Kathryn (the two main cooks for the festivities) were able to pull off such an amazing meal. Rachel had the dishes on a schedule down to the minute of when they should start being prepared and the ingredients that were needed. The rest of us took turns chopping and doing dishes to make sure that the flow of the cooking could continue. With four electric coils, one small toaster oven and limited cooking utensils, these girls made one of the most amazing meals I’ve had in my life (and the water wasn’t working half of the day)!
All I did those couple of days was eat amazing food:
Breakfast (Thanksgiving Day) – Fruit salad and delicious banana bread
Appetizers: Deviled eggs, guacamole, humus and chopped veggies
Thanksgiving dinner: Turkey (16 lb. Butter Ball), creamed spinach, dinner rolls, mashed potatoes, cranberries, sweet potatoes, green beans, stuffing and there might have been more, but I don’t remember ...
We didn’t end up killing the Honduran turkey and I’m not quite sure why, but Rach and Mo went and bought a turkey in Comayagua, which turned out awesome! A friend of Rachel’s allowed us to use her oven for the five hours it took to cook the turkey and such things.
I don’t know what else there is to tell about Thanksgiving. At different points of the day there were any number of us outside, pacing the road, talking to family. A dog died right out in front of their house and there were millions of vultures around the carcass. It was really gross, but hard to avoid looking at as the phone is passed around to various family members.
I thought this was pretty hilarious … So Friday morning we wake-up and people are stirring, making coffee and getting ready to depart, etc. Well, 13 people staying in a house puts considerable amount of stress on the bathroom in terms of using the shower and well, the toilet. Why does it seem that all stories about Honduras rise from the bathroom?
Me and Plank were walking around town, getting some fresh air and stretching our legs when we get the fateful call: “Can you guys buy a plunger?” Uh oh. Well, all of those who claimed talent at plunging toilets were unsuccessful and after a considerable amount of time with the crappy plunger (pun NOT intended) the plungers resorted to sticks and hot water. There were two main plumbers who trudged in and out of the house with sticks of various length and girth. Every now and then Mo would wander in to check on the state of his bathroom and each time emerged, practically dry heaving and complaining about the poo water being tracked all over his house.
For the 1.5 hours that I think the toilet was clogged there was much discussion about the emergency situation that we were nearing as “the coffee [started] to kick in!” and Thanksgiving dinner has finished it’s … journey though the digestive track. I have accompanying pictures of people finally leaving the house (with toilet paper because Hondurans seemed to always have a toilet paper shortage) to find bathrooms. It was pretty hilarious, but that might be because I wasn’t in dire need of a bathroom. The toilet eventually was unclogged, but our little adventure prompted a nostalgic discussion of “industrial flush” toilets in the U.S.
Life in Honduras generally results in odd conversations and events. For example:
- The multi-HOUR conversation on all types of “that” girl at parties that the guys carried on
- The conversation that followed was “that” guy
- The various wiping methods of the hombres in attendance at the party
- A lengthy vote on the name of Rach and Mo’s new kitten, which ended in Snarf (his given name) being held up to the white board to chose his name …
Weird.
I want to say that the Hondurans have Americans beat when it comes to how early they put up Christmas decorations. I’d say the week before Thanksgiving people here started putting up their decorations and more notably Christmas-y things started to be sold. I was amazed. I recall that last year Christmas decorations and music could be seen/heard the week of Thanksgiving. Here, they had us beat. It’s ridiculous. There are Christmas trees and lights in most houses. The outside lights haven’t made as much of an appearance, but even public places have all their decorations out. It’s really weird seeing all these things that remind me of, well, Christmas and cold weather. I went to Laura’s house this afternoon to watch some T.V. and was weirded out by her Christmas tree and the unseasonably warm weather occurring at the same time. I don’t know how I feel about this.
I must say, that I’m not as annoyed with the Christmas decorations coming out so early as I was in the States. Maybe that’s because it still doesn’t feel like Christmas or Christmas is so much less commercialized here that it appears less calculated and more sincere.
That’s pretty much it on my Thanksgiving festivities. It was great to be around good friends and not feel as homesick as I had expected. We had great food and great (or interesting) conversation and it was a welcome vacation.
I hope that everyone also had a wonderful and satisfying Thanksgiving. I want to give my thanks and recognition to Rachel for being an amazing cook and sport at having the gathering hosted at her house and Kathryn for being an amazing chef as well!
Friday, November 20, 2009
Floaters
So I went on my study today and came home (fairly early) pretty fried. I don’t know why, but I was. Everyone has those days where all you need is a nice, cold beer. Well, I’m on the car ride home, thinking what I can consume (that’s how it goes) to make myself feel better and it hits me like a ton of rocks …
That Hoegaarden I’ve been saving for, quite honestly, months, is still in my fridge and begging to be drank! I was oh so excited! Get home, feed the dog and go right to the fridge.
Now, I’m going to be honest about something right now: Peace Corps Volunteers drink a fair amount. You get a bunch of stressed, isolated 20-something kids (the majority) together and what do you think they are going to do? When we were going through training the Peace Corps doctors had a little session about substance abuse and alcoholism in Peace Corps. I was kind of surprised and looked around, thinking, who here would ever become an alcoholic? No one. That’s absurd! Well, now that I’m not some ignorant trainee I realize it would be really easy to become an alcoholic in Peace Corps (if it weren’t for the booze sucking so bad).
Well, don’t remember the purpose of that mini-rant, because I am most certainly not becoming an alcoholic … yes, now I remember. For as much as people (meaning PCVs) in this country drink, no one EVER has a bottle cap opener! I mean, que fue? What’s that all about? Well, I’ve got a can opener that I tried to use, but apparently that isn’t sufficient. I’m sitting here in the kitchen yelling at a can opener, “Just open my damn beer! Well, I finally go to get my swiss army knife, open the beer and take the first glorious sip … “I love my life!”
Got outside, pull down my hammock and just chill. Swaying back and forth, I start singing, “Beer, beer, beer. I love beer!” Today is the most beautiful day with warm, late afternoon sun and a gentle breeze; perfect weather for chilling in a hammock and drinking a nice beer. Well, I’m sitting here, watching the dogs (yes, I put an “S” on dog because Pablo has returned) and relaxing, feeling the “stress” melting away and the light hits my beer in such a way that I can see … ALL THE CRAP FLOATING IN IT!
WTF?? This is a grave, grave problem. Here I am, enjoying my beer, loving the fact that I saved the beer for this moment and that I have such a wonderful life, and then there’s crap floating in my beer. My life was wonderful (at that moment) because of the beer and now all my dreams have been dashed to hell by lots of tiny, suspicious particles floating in it. You know how you stare at something, without blinking for what seems like eons because you just can’t believe that that is happening at the moment? Yeah, that was me.
I rotate the beer, slowly and locate a suspicious spot on the inside of the bottle. It looks like a flat slug … “Maybe it’s chocolate …,” I say to myself in an optimistic tone, “Yeah, and maybe you’re on crack! How did chocolate get in your beer? You don’t have that kind of luck …” FINE!
As I’m investigating these particles in my beer I continue to drink it, albeit a little bit faster than before, as if the velocity affects the amount of harm these unknown floaters can do to my body/mental stability. The more I rotate the bottle I notice a kind of milky-ness emanating from the sludge-like spot. Gross. Sip. What is that? Sip. Should I keep sipping? The part of my mind that really wanted that beer in the first place screams, “YES!”
Eventually, unfortunately, I pull myself from my hammock and get a glass. I carefully pour the remaining beer into the cup, closely monitoring the liquid coming from the bottle. No floaters. Am I insane? All the remaining beer is now in my cup, clear as the day and I’m completely puzzled. I look into the bottle and my mysterious slug is gone now too. There is a bunch of crud at the bottom of the bottle, but it doesn’t look like it had ever been floating. Whatever. Drink rest of beer.
I’m going to go eat some chocolate.
That Hoegaarden I’ve been saving for, quite honestly, months, is still in my fridge and begging to be drank! I was oh so excited! Get home, feed the dog and go right to the fridge.
Now, I’m going to be honest about something right now: Peace Corps Volunteers drink a fair amount. You get a bunch of stressed, isolated 20-something kids (the majority) together and what do you think they are going to do? When we were going through training the Peace Corps doctors had a little session about substance abuse and alcoholism in Peace Corps. I was kind of surprised and looked around, thinking, who here would ever become an alcoholic? No one. That’s absurd! Well, now that I’m not some ignorant trainee I realize it would be really easy to become an alcoholic in Peace Corps (if it weren’t for the booze sucking so bad).
Well, don’t remember the purpose of that mini-rant, because I am most certainly not becoming an alcoholic … yes, now I remember. For as much as people (meaning PCVs) in this country drink, no one EVER has a bottle cap opener! I mean, que fue? What’s that all about? Well, I’ve got a can opener that I tried to use, but apparently that isn’t sufficient. I’m sitting here in the kitchen yelling at a can opener, “Just open my damn beer! Well, I finally go to get my swiss army knife, open the beer and take the first glorious sip … “I love my life!”
Got outside, pull down my hammock and just chill. Swaying back and forth, I start singing, “Beer, beer, beer. I love beer!” Today is the most beautiful day with warm, late afternoon sun and a gentle breeze; perfect weather for chilling in a hammock and drinking a nice beer. Well, I’m sitting here, watching the dogs (yes, I put an “S” on dog because Pablo has returned) and relaxing, feeling the “stress” melting away and the light hits my beer in such a way that I can see … ALL THE CRAP FLOATING IN IT!
WTF?? This is a grave, grave problem. Here I am, enjoying my beer, loving the fact that I saved the beer for this moment and that I have such a wonderful life, and then there’s crap floating in my beer. My life was wonderful (at that moment) because of the beer and now all my dreams have been dashed to hell by lots of tiny, suspicious particles floating in it. You know how you stare at something, without blinking for what seems like eons because you just can’t believe that that is happening at the moment? Yeah, that was me.
I rotate the beer, slowly and locate a suspicious spot on the inside of the bottle. It looks like a flat slug … “Maybe it’s chocolate …,” I say to myself in an optimistic tone, “Yeah, and maybe you’re on crack! How did chocolate get in your beer? You don’t have that kind of luck …” FINE!
As I’m investigating these particles in my beer I continue to drink it, albeit a little bit faster than before, as if the velocity affects the amount of harm these unknown floaters can do to my body/mental stability. The more I rotate the bottle I notice a kind of milky-ness emanating from the sludge-like spot. Gross. Sip. What is that? Sip. Should I keep sipping? The part of my mind that really wanted that beer in the first place screams, “YES!”
Eventually, unfortunately, I pull myself from my hammock and get a glass. I carefully pour the remaining beer into the cup, closely monitoring the liquid coming from the bottle. No floaters. Am I insane? All the remaining beer is now in my cup, clear as the day and I’m completely puzzled. I look into the bottle and my mysterious slug is gone now too. There is a bunch of crud at the bottom of the bottle, but it doesn’t look like it had ever been floating. Whatever. Drink rest of beer.
I’m going to go eat some chocolate.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
I’ve Been Here Six Months …
AND I’M STILL HAPPY!
Yesterday was our 6 month anniversary in site (almost 9 months inthe country)! KatP sent out a nice message, but other than that the day didn’t feel that special. We’ve lost a decent amount of people and being in my site for 6 months feels like quite an accomplishment. Yet, it really doesn’t feel like I’ve been here that long, therefore I guess I didn’t feel the need to celebrate or anything like that.
I was in Jimilile yesterday continuing my study. I guess it was fitting that I was working on a water study on my 6 month anniversary. At least I wasn’t sitting in my house bored as hell because I didn’t have work.
Just a quick story from the day and then I want to write a little bit about how I feel like I’ve become a little Honduran …
So after we finish each day a ride takes me back down to Corquin. This ride, since he picked us up SO EARLY, asked if I could wait a minute because he wanted to bring his coffee pickers down with us. We pulled into his finca and waited a bit. Finally, instead of a bunch of men getting into the back of the truck, they caught a pig, shoved him in a sack and threw him into the truck. Instead of the man driving me back, his son got in the truck. On the way down the mountain we stopped and picked up a couple of women. As the women were getting in the truck (the back) I noticed that the pig seemed unusually … free.
“You’re pig is loose …” But, unfortunately I posed it more like, “Is your pig tied up?”
“Yeah, he’s tied up.”
“No, I realize he WAS, but now he’s not.” The kid didn’t understand me …
“No, it’s ok.”
“No, REALLY, the pig is about to bite that woman …” I look back and the woman, wearing only flip flops, is kicking the pig in the head.
He finally looks in the rear view mirror and sees that the pig’s head is sticking out of the bag and he’s walking around the bed of the truck.
“CRAP!”
Of course this doesn’t all translate exactly (might be embellished for comic value), but still I thought it was pretty funny that this kid didn’t understand me/believe me and it took me a couple of minutes to convince him to stop the car … because he was driving with a pig in a sack.
So how am I Honduran?
1) I wear my Honduras jersey with as much pride as any Honduran
2) I’m listening to Montez de Durango (Mexican banda) as I write this
3) I use the Honduran hand flip when I’m explaining things
4) I now point to things with my lips
5) People here drink out of bags (soda, water) and the food that I get each day on this study comes with a bag of homemade orange juice. Well, while biting the corner to open the bag I notice that there’s a bug floating around in the juice. Did I flinch? Nope. Did I discreetly “spill” the juice? Nah. I drank it and just pinched the bug between my fingers so I didn’t drink it. Gross? You make think so.
6) On studies, instead of using the hand gel that I keep with me at all times, I just eat with my dirty hands. Adds flavor. Stupid? Probably, but I haven’t gotten sick yet.
7) I speak a bastardized form of Spanish with the proper voice inflection; “NOOOMBRE”
8) I love tortillas and mantequilla
9) I now expect a break/snack at 10 am and 3 pm every day without fail
10) I will dip anything in my coffee
11) I find it unnecessary to bathe every day (especially now that the water is so damn cold). Why bathe when everyone else smells? Why can’t I just add to it?
How am I so very different from being a Honduran?
1) I won’t go “mining for gold” in my nose and ears during a meeting
2) I don’t spit loogies indoors and outdoors
3) I won’t put up with Honduran men/ I still hate pirropos
4) I have yet to adopt Hondurena fashion
5) I still like dogs
6) I was trying out new methods of washing my hair to avoid the freezing cold water touching my back and was washing it in my pila (outside, massive cement water holding structure SEE PICTURES). I was rinsing my hair and I look over and there’s a dead gecko floating in the water … … “EWWW GROOOOSSS! I washed my hair with dead gecko water?! EWWWW”
7) I still shriek when I see a massive cockroach on my wall and immediately run for the Raid
Other Volunteers will probably find this more entertaining and I know I had other ones, but I forgot. Anyways, CONGRATULATIONS H14 on making it 6 months!
Yesterday was our 6 month anniversary in site (almost 9 months inthe country)! KatP sent out a nice message, but other than that the day didn’t feel that special. We’ve lost a decent amount of people and being in my site for 6 months feels like quite an accomplishment. Yet, it really doesn’t feel like I’ve been here that long, therefore I guess I didn’t feel the need to celebrate or anything like that.
I was in Jimilile yesterday continuing my study. I guess it was fitting that I was working on a water study on my 6 month anniversary. At least I wasn’t sitting in my house bored as hell because I didn’t have work.
Just a quick story from the day and then I want to write a little bit about how I feel like I’ve become a little Honduran …
So after we finish each day a ride takes me back down to Corquin. This ride, since he picked us up SO EARLY, asked if I could wait a minute because he wanted to bring his coffee pickers down with us. We pulled into his finca and waited a bit. Finally, instead of a bunch of men getting into the back of the truck, they caught a pig, shoved him in a sack and threw him into the truck. Instead of the man driving me back, his son got in the truck. On the way down the mountain we stopped and picked up a couple of women. As the women were getting in the truck (the back) I noticed that the pig seemed unusually … free.
“You’re pig is loose …” But, unfortunately I posed it more like, “Is your pig tied up?”
“Yeah, he’s tied up.”
“No, I realize he WAS, but now he’s not.” The kid didn’t understand me …
“No, it’s ok.”
“No, REALLY, the pig is about to bite that woman …” I look back and the woman, wearing only flip flops, is kicking the pig in the head.
He finally looks in the rear view mirror and sees that the pig’s head is sticking out of the bag and he’s walking around the bed of the truck.
“CRAP!”
Of course this doesn’t all translate exactly (might be embellished for comic value), but still I thought it was pretty funny that this kid didn’t understand me/believe me and it took me a couple of minutes to convince him to stop the car … because he was driving with a pig in a sack.
So how am I Honduran?
1) I wear my Honduras jersey with as much pride as any Honduran
2) I’m listening to Montez de Durango (Mexican banda) as I write this
3) I use the Honduran hand flip when I’m explaining things
4) I now point to things with my lips
5) People here drink out of bags (soda, water) and the food that I get each day on this study comes with a bag of homemade orange juice. Well, while biting the corner to open the bag I notice that there’s a bug floating around in the juice. Did I flinch? Nope. Did I discreetly “spill” the juice? Nah. I drank it and just pinched the bug between my fingers so I didn’t drink it. Gross? You make think so.
6) On studies, instead of using the hand gel that I keep with me at all times, I just eat with my dirty hands. Adds flavor. Stupid? Probably, but I haven’t gotten sick yet.
7) I speak a bastardized form of Spanish with the proper voice inflection; “NOOOMBRE”
8) I love tortillas and mantequilla
9) I now expect a break/snack at 10 am and 3 pm every day without fail
10) I will dip anything in my coffee
11) I find it unnecessary to bathe every day (especially now that the water is so damn cold). Why bathe when everyone else smells? Why can’t I just add to it?
How am I so very different from being a Honduran?
1) I won’t go “mining for gold” in my nose and ears during a meeting
2) I don’t spit loogies indoors and outdoors
3) I won’t put up with Honduran men/ I still hate pirropos
4) I have yet to adopt Hondurena fashion
5) I still like dogs
6) I was trying out new methods of washing my hair to avoid the freezing cold water touching my back and was washing it in my pila (outside, massive cement water holding structure SEE PICTURES). I was rinsing my hair and I look over and there’s a dead gecko floating in the water … … “EWWW GROOOOSSS! I washed my hair with dead gecko water?! EWWWW”
7) I still shriek when I see a massive cockroach on my wall and immediately run for the Raid
Other Volunteers will probably find this more entertaining and I know I had other ones, but I forgot. Anyways, CONGRATULATIONS H14 on making it 6 months!
“What’s Going On?!”
I do have to say that I’m pretty proud of Bourbon’s guard dog abilities. Last night I would have been pretty annoyed, but I couldn’t help but be touched that he was looking out for me.
I was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep and Bourbon kept flipping out. Apparently, he was hearing stuff that I wasn’t picking up, but that’s to be expected. He’s been sleeping in the other room recently and it started out with him lying there and growling. At one point, I did hear the metal sheet that I have temporarily blocking the porton (so he doesn’t get out) fall down. Our reactions show the differences in our natural instincts:
Hannah suddenly becomes motionless in bed and pulls her covers up to her ears. I honestly was thinking, “If I don’t move maybe I can hear better and they won’t realize I’m in here … “
Well that was blasted all to hell when Bourbon went nuts and started barking and growling. What was cute was that he came into my room and to seemingly check on me. He stayed in the room with me, until, encouraged by his brave behavior, I crept towards the front door to get a feel for whom or what was out there. Actually, his reaction probably had me more worked up than anything. But, after a while it was clear there wasn’t anyone/anything out there and I went back to bed. Bourbon, on the other hand kept growling for a while and then randomly barked again right as I was starting to fall asleep!
Great story, right? That was only part of it. Well, as has become my new custom, I woke up and let Bourbon out at 5 am and then crawled back into bed. I slept in really late this morning and when I woke up again I realized that he hadn’t been bugging me most of the morning like he usually does. Well, I spring out of bed, ready to find the next clothing casualty to sharp puppy teeth, but as I walk out the back door I see Bourbon chilling in the sun with … a friend!
There’s German shepherd looking dog chilling on the back porch. Upon seeing me he jumps up and makes to leave the yard and I encouraged him by following, “tssst tssst” all the way behind. The “tsst tsst” is a bad Honduran habit that I’ve picked up to chase away dogs. I hate when Hondurans do it (especially to my dog), but then I find myself doing it all the time, although in my defense it’s really all they listen to.
Well, Pablo (that’s what I named him) comes back almost immediately. He’s well fed and doesn’t seem to have any weird infections or bugs, so I let him chill out. This also indicates to me that he has a home and that he might actually be loved because the family apparently feeds him. I don’t know why, but there’s something about the way he was acting that was just so desperate and I felt bad for him.
Today I finally painted my room! I was in the house busy painting and the dogs chilled outside for most of the day. It was warmer today than it has been and I found Pablo sleeping in my kitchen under my broken horno (wood fire) where I’m to store my wood. He wasn’t bothering anyone so I let him chill there because it’s cooler.
I have to admit that I did feed Pablo a little bit. I know I shouldn’t have, but I was feeding Bourbon and I felt bad! I just gave him a little bit …
Nothing all that remarkable happened all day. I don’t know what Pablo’s deal is, because he doesn’t seem all that interested in Bourbon and he’s been whining a lot. I left at one point to go run some errands and he followed me. When I came back to the house a few minutes later he was already here, but I think he’s adopted me more than he has adopted Bourbon. Whenever I would go out to check on them he would start whimpering a bit, which I thought was odd. He acts as if he might be in pain. I started freaking out that he had come to my house to die and what in the world was I going to do with a dead dog?!
Towards evening I had finished painting and made dinner. Now that I was moving around more he tried to come farther into the house and I wasn’t having that. Also, Bourbon was trying to play and Pablo started growling at him. At one point, when I sat down to eat, I heard Bourbon yelp and Pablo start growling really loud. I think Bourbon was probably being annoying (he generally is) and Pablo was telling him to knock it off, but I chased him out of the yard anyways. I stood there for a while, making sure he wouldn’t knock down my escaping-puppy-blocker, but the minute I walked away I heard the metal clang and I knew Pablo was back. I kept yelling, “Go home!!” but he didn’t seem to get the clue.
There’s nothing I can do to get this dog away! I brought Bourbon inside and shut the doors to feed him (I felt bad feeding Bourbon and not giving any food to Pablo) and he was still around! Not only that, but he’s guarding the house now too! He’s pretty vigilant, because every few minutes he was barking at something!
I let Bourbon out a little later and there was Pablo on the front porch! People have been setting off fireworks a lot recently (no idea why) and Pablo really doesn’t like that. I was standing on the front porch and the fireworks went off and he came and hid behind me. All of the sudden I was getting tripped up by dogs as Bourbon was trying to play with Pablo and Pablo was trying to hide. Then, it struck me at how absurd this whole situation is … I have a puppy that I can barely handle and now an adult dog has decided to adopt me? I even threw a rock at him earlier (didn’t hit him!) and he came back! Why is he here?
I’m not that annoyed because he’s a nice dog and seems to understand me when I talk to him (usual dog commands) but what I’m really afraid of is myself. If this dog keeps hanging around my dog-liking-self will be tempted to adopt him too and I just can’t afford that! Imagine trying to find someone to dog sit TWO dogs? Impossible! Not only that, but I creeped myself out by imagining that it was Tucker in another dog’s body, coming to visit me now that he can (meaning that he died and that his spirit can now possess other dog bodies, naturally). I’m painting my room thinking about all this and march outside to run a test. Pablo and Bourbon are just lying around and, without looking at him directly, I say, “Tucker!” Now, he didn’t exactly act like that was his name, but he did perk up his ears and move his head. This was more of a reaction than what I got earlier when I tested typical Honduran dog names on him (Doggie, Chucho [which means dog in Spanish] and Toby). He didn’t react to any of the Honduran names.
Anyways, so this is my adventure for the day. I have been adopted by a Honduran dog and I don’t know why. He seems to need something, but I can’t figure it out. I’ll tell you what though, Bourbon is happy to have a companion even if Pablo doesn’t play with him. I’m sure he’ll move on eventually, but I still wonder why he picked us?
- - -
Next Morning
So, do the usual wake up and let Bourbon out, and then I hear the metal sheet clang, “He’s still here?!” Well they’re just playing, a joyful reunion, so I let them go and go inside to sweep and grumble about being up too early on a Sunday. Well, totally forgot that the metal sheet was down and in about 40 minutes I remember. I run outside and of course they’re nowhere to be seen.
Pull on somewhat suitable clothes to go traipsing around Corquin in and grab the leash and I’m off. I haven’t the slightest clue where these two could be and I’m worried that someone has picked up Bourbon and drove off. It didn’t take long for me to find them on the main street eating trash. I grab Bourbon, yell at him, and put him on the leash, all the while telling Pablo he’s a bad influence and to go home. Then, I realize that, not only am I speaking English, but I’m talking to two dogs…
:AHEM: Straighten up my clothes … And to Bourbon, “Bad dog! We’re going home!”
To avoid going through the Sunday crowd in the plazita I take a longer route and the more we walk the more Pablo gets upset. He starts running ahead of us, whining a little bit, but then as we get closer to my house he starts jumping on me and biting the leash. He kept running around us and then tugging on the leash and there wasn’t anything I could do to get this dog away.
We got home and I tried to scare him off, but rocks and brooms aren’t working anymore. He’s determined to stay. Now he’s made me angry and I don’t know what to do. That’s the update. You buys probably don’t care, but I think this is absolutely absurd. Maybe someone will admire Pablo and I can sell him for a lot of money! Just joking … Kind of.
I was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep and Bourbon kept flipping out. Apparently, he was hearing stuff that I wasn’t picking up, but that’s to be expected. He’s been sleeping in the other room recently and it started out with him lying there and growling. At one point, I did hear the metal sheet that I have temporarily blocking the porton (so he doesn’t get out) fall down. Our reactions show the differences in our natural instincts:
Hannah suddenly becomes motionless in bed and pulls her covers up to her ears. I honestly was thinking, “If I don’t move maybe I can hear better and they won’t realize I’m in here … “
Well that was blasted all to hell when Bourbon went nuts and started barking and growling. What was cute was that he came into my room and to seemingly check on me. He stayed in the room with me, until, encouraged by his brave behavior, I crept towards the front door to get a feel for whom or what was out there. Actually, his reaction probably had me more worked up than anything. But, after a while it was clear there wasn’t anyone/anything out there and I went back to bed. Bourbon, on the other hand kept growling for a while and then randomly barked again right as I was starting to fall asleep!
Great story, right? That was only part of it. Well, as has become my new custom, I woke up and let Bourbon out at 5 am and then crawled back into bed. I slept in really late this morning and when I woke up again I realized that he hadn’t been bugging me most of the morning like he usually does. Well, I spring out of bed, ready to find the next clothing casualty to sharp puppy teeth, but as I walk out the back door I see Bourbon chilling in the sun with … a friend!
There’s German shepherd looking dog chilling on the back porch. Upon seeing me he jumps up and makes to leave the yard and I encouraged him by following, “tssst tssst” all the way behind. The “tsst tsst” is a bad Honduran habit that I’ve picked up to chase away dogs. I hate when Hondurans do it (especially to my dog), but then I find myself doing it all the time, although in my defense it’s really all they listen to.
Well, Pablo (that’s what I named him) comes back almost immediately. He’s well fed and doesn’t seem to have any weird infections or bugs, so I let him chill out. This also indicates to me that he has a home and that he might actually be loved because the family apparently feeds him. I don’t know why, but there’s something about the way he was acting that was just so desperate and I felt bad for him.
Today I finally painted my room! I was in the house busy painting and the dogs chilled outside for most of the day. It was warmer today than it has been and I found Pablo sleeping in my kitchen under my broken horno (wood fire) where I’m to store my wood. He wasn’t bothering anyone so I let him chill there because it’s cooler.
I have to admit that I did feed Pablo a little bit. I know I shouldn’t have, but I was feeding Bourbon and I felt bad! I just gave him a little bit …
Nothing all that remarkable happened all day. I don’t know what Pablo’s deal is, because he doesn’t seem all that interested in Bourbon and he’s been whining a lot. I left at one point to go run some errands and he followed me. When I came back to the house a few minutes later he was already here, but I think he’s adopted me more than he has adopted Bourbon. Whenever I would go out to check on them he would start whimpering a bit, which I thought was odd. He acts as if he might be in pain. I started freaking out that he had come to my house to die and what in the world was I going to do with a dead dog?!
Towards evening I had finished painting and made dinner. Now that I was moving around more he tried to come farther into the house and I wasn’t having that. Also, Bourbon was trying to play and Pablo started growling at him. At one point, when I sat down to eat, I heard Bourbon yelp and Pablo start growling really loud. I think Bourbon was probably being annoying (he generally is) and Pablo was telling him to knock it off, but I chased him out of the yard anyways. I stood there for a while, making sure he wouldn’t knock down my escaping-puppy-blocker, but the minute I walked away I heard the metal clang and I knew Pablo was back. I kept yelling, “Go home!!” but he didn’t seem to get the clue.
There’s nothing I can do to get this dog away! I brought Bourbon inside and shut the doors to feed him (I felt bad feeding Bourbon and not giving any food to Pablo) and he was still around! Not only that, but he’s guarding the house now too! He’s pretty vigilant, because every few minutes he was barking at something!
I let Bourbon out a little later and there was Pablo on the front porch! People have been setting off fireworks a lot recently (no idea why) and Pablo really doesn’t like that. I was standing on the front porch and the fireworks went off and he came and hid behind me. All of the sudden I was getting tripped up by dogs as Bourbon was trying to play with Pablo and Pablo was trying to hide. Then, it struck me at how absurd this whole situation is … I have a puppy that I can barely handle and now an adult dog has decided to adopt me? I even threw a rock at him earlier (didn’t hit him!) and he came back! Why is he here?
I’m not that annoyed because he’s a nice dog and seems to understand me when I talk to him (usual dog commands) but what I’m really afraid of is myself. If this dog keeps hanging around my dog-liking-self will be tempted to adopt him too and I just can’t afford that! Imagine trying to find someone to dog sit TWO dogs? Impossible! Not only that, but I creeped myself out by imagining that it was Tucker in another dog’s body, coming to visit me now that he can (meaning that he died and that his spirit can now possess other dog bodies, naturally). I’m painting my room thinking about all this and march outside to run a test. Pablo and Bourbon are just lying around and, without looking at him directly, I say, “Tucker!” Now, he didn’t exactly act like that was his name, but he did perk up his ears and move his head. This was more of a reaction than what I got earlier when I tested typical Honduran dog names on him (Doggie, Chucho [which means dog in Spanish] and Toby). He didn’t react to any of the Honduran names.
Anyways, so this is my adventure for the day. I have been adopted by a Honduran dog and I don’t know why. He seems to need something, but I can’t figure it out. I’ll tell you what though, Bourbon is happy to have a companion even if Pablo doesn’t play with him. I’m sure he’ll move on eventually, but I still wonder why he picked us?
- - -
Next Morning
So, do the usual wake up and let Bourbon out, and then I hear the metal sheet clang, “He’s still here?!” Well they’re just playing, a joyful reunion, so I let them go and go inside to sweep and grumble about being up too early on a Sunday. Well, totally forgot that the metal sheet was down and in about 40 minutes I remember. I run outside and of course they’re nowhere to be seen.
Pull on somewhat suitable clothes to go traipsing around Corquin in and grab the leash and I’m off. I haven’t the slightest clue where these two could be and I’m worried that someone has picked up Bourbon and drove off. It didn’t take long for me to find them on the main street eating trash. I grab Bourbon, yell at him, and put him on the leash, all the while telling Pablo he’s a bad influence and to go home. Then, I realize that, not only am I speaking English, but I’m talking to two dogs…
:AHEM: Straighten up my clothes … And to Bourbon, “Bad dog! We’re going home!”
To avoid going through the Sunday crowd in the plazita I take a longer route and the more we walk the more Pablo gets upset. He starts running ahead of us, whining a little bit, but then as we get closer to my house he starts jumping on me and biting the leash. He kept running around us and then tugging on the leash and there wasn’t anything I could do to get this dog away.
We got home and I tried to scare him off, but rocks and brooms aren’t working anymore. He’s determined to stay. Now he’s made me angry and I don’t know what to do. That’s the update. You buys probably don’t care, but I think this is absolutely absurd. Maybe someone will admire Pablo and I can sell him for a lot of money! Just joking … Kind of.
Bra Shopping in Honduras
Well considering the fact that Bourbon has decided to wage war on my bras, I have found it necessary to go shopping for a couple more bras here in Honduras.
Let me explain the bra situation here in Honduras: Women here don’t know how to buy bras. Now, don’t get me wrong, because after one bra shopping adventure on my own my Mom banned me from entering a changing room without her supervision.
Hello! My name is Hannah and I am 23 years old and my Mom still helps me buy bras!
Anyways, these women have the double boob going (when the bra fits too tight) or the pointy boob deal. I honestly don’t know what they’re doing wrong, but there isn’t one Honduran woman who has a properly fitted bra. Now, afraid that my boobs would start to look like that (I’m not interested in integrating THAT much!), I decided to wait until a Santa Rosa trip to go to one of the nicer stores and actually drop some serious cash on bras.
Well, it just so happened last weekend we were having a going away party for a couple of friends and I got there early to get some shopping done before everyone else got into town. Now, Kathryn couldn’t go because she was baking cupcakes (delicious!) and Darren refused to go, claiming that it would really be best for both of us that he didn’t accompany me because he would just complain the entire time. Rachel was on her way in with her husband and I texted her, “Want to go bra shopping with me? Pweeeze?” to which she responded, “Umm…” I took that as a NO.
So, after doing a couple of angry dances, I set off on the wonderful adventure of shopping for bras in Honduras. I walk into this store and am immediately overwhelmed by all the clothing options. It’s like a department store (smaller though) and I haven’t been shopping like this in over 10 months. GROAN. I finally find the bras and get to work. They’re all lacey, they’re all SUPER padded and it’s just too much for me. Ask Molly, she was on the phone with me for part of the time …
“This is RIDICULOUS! I don’t want my boobs to be nuzzled under my chin! Aren’t there any bras without a MONTON of padding?? I, I just can’t handle this. This is ridiculous. Oh, perfect, Playboy bunny. Now THAT is just what I’m looking for! So fits my style! Who knew?! Isn’t there just plain BLACK?”
Lucky her, my phone died and she didn’t have to listen to that anymore. So I pick the “modest” bras and go into the changing room. OOF I forgot how God awful those mirrors are. Still ate four cupcakes later though …
Most of the bras didn’t even fit, but when one did I threw my T-shirt on over top thrust out my chest, trying to make sure that I wasn’t sporting the Honduran boob look. I was probably in the changing room for hours, looking at myself from all possible angles, paranoid as hell that I would walk out of there with misshapen boobs.
The entire time I was wondering around the store people were following me. I probably looked so mean that they didn’t want to approach me. It was like I was 15 again and me and my friends would wander into stores and the sales ladies would follow us around. I was always so offended that they thought I was going to steal something. Still offends me today, as I walk around the store, muttering, “Lay off! I’m JUST looking. GOD!” At this point I was so flustered and worked up that my cheeks were bright red and I was sweating profusely. If big stores do that to me in Honduras I will probably faint when I visit the States. It was so overwhelming I could barely handle myself.
Finally, I decide on two bras and get out of there. Well, I can’t just walk down to the cash register, because that would make too much sense. Apparently, these people following me were intended to help me and then when I am ready to buy my things they have to carry them down to the cash register for me. There’s one register, all the customers and then the sales clerks who are helping the customers. This means a cluster ***** of people waiting to check out.
Now, you ask, what nice service did this sales clerk provide? NOTHING! Waste of space and money to pay her salary. She literally just ripped the tags off the bras, removed the security thingers and then put the bras on the counter. This wasn’t anything that I or the cash register lady couldn’t do. Actually, I have nothing against her, but the one in front of me …
The attendant lady in front of me was taking the security tags off of another customer’s purchases and after the removal of each tag she FLUNG the item of clothing over her shoulder. I was so frazzled and ready to get out that I didn’t notice the dress flying towards my head and got smacked in the fact with some obnoxious bow or button. I wanted to punch her in the face.
Then, when you think the attendant lady would have moved to allow me to pay, she continued to stand there in front of me so that I couldn’t access the counter to give the woman my card … GAAAH!
I busted out of that stored like I was being let out of prison. I am NEVER doing that again!
Naturally, when I got back to Kat’s apartment everyone had gotten there and I was forced to show them my purchases. Later, when people had left and it was just Rachel and Kathryn in the apartment, I tried on my new bras for them and made sure that I was safe from the Honduran bra curse.
I swear, if I went through all that emotional trauma and Bourbon even so much as LOOKS at one of those bras I am selling him to the highest bidder!
Let me explain the bra situation here in Honduras: Women here don’t know how to buy bras. Now, don’t get me wrong, because after one bra shopping adventure on my own my Mom banned me from entering a changing room without her supervision.
Hello! My name is Hannah and I am 23 years old and my Mom still helps me buy bras!
Anyways, these women have the double boob going (when the bra fits too tight) or the pointy boob deal. I honestly don’t know what they’re doing wrong, but there isn’t one Honduran woman who has a properly fitted bra. Now, afraid that my boobs would start to look like that (I’m not interested in integrating THAT much!), I decided to wait until a Santa Rosa trip to go to one of the nicer stores and actually drop some serious cash on bras.
Well, it just so happened last weekend we were having a going away party for a couple of friends and I got there early to get some shopping done before everyone else got into town. Now, Kathryn couldn’t go because she was baking cupcakes (delicious!) and Darren refused to go, claiming that it would really be best for both of us that he didn’t accompany me because he would just complain the entire time. Rachel was on her way in with her husband and I texted her, “Want to go bra shopping with me? Pweeeze?” to which she responded, “Umm…” I took that as a NO.
So, after doing a couple of angry dances, I set off on the wonderful adventure of shopping for bras in Honduras. I walk into this store and am immediately overwhelmed by all the clothing options. It’s like a department store (smaller though) and I haven’t been shopping like this in over 10 months. GROAN. I finally find the bras and get to work. They’re all lacey, they’re all SUPER padded and it’s just too much for me. Ask Molly, she was on the phone with me for part of the time …
“This is RIDICULOUS! I don’t want my boobs to be nuzzled under my chin! Aren’t there any bras without a MONTON of padding?? I, I just can’t handle this. This is ridiculous. Oh, perfect, Playboy bunny. Now THAT is just what I’m looking for! So fits my style! Who knew?! Isn’t there just plain BLACK?”
Lucky her, my phone died and she didn’t have to listen to that anymore. So I pick the “modest” bras and go into the changing room. OOF I forgot how God awful those mirrors are. Still ate four cupcakes later though …
Most of the bras didn’t even fit, but when one did I threw my T-shirt on over top thrust out my chest, trying to make sure that I wasn’t sporting the Honduran boob look. I was probably in the changing room for hours, looking at myself from all possible angles, paranoid as hell that I would walk out of there with misshapen boobs.
The entire time I was wondering around the store people were following me. I probably looked so mean that they didn’t want to approach me. It was like I was 15 again and me and my friends would wander into stores and the sales ladies would follow us around. I was always so offended that they thought I was going to steal something. Still offends me today, as I walk around the store, muttering, “Lay off! I’m JUST looking. GOD!” At this point I was so flustered and worked up that my cheeks were bright red and I was sweating profusely. If big stores do that to me in Honduras I will probably faint when I visit the States. It was so overwhelming I could barely handle myself.
Finally, I decide on two bras and get out of there. Well, I can’t just walk down to the cash register, because that would make too much sense. Apparently, these people following me were intended to help me and then when I am ready to buy my things they have to carry them down to the cash register for me. There’s one register, all the customers and then the sales clerks who are helping the customers. This means a cluster ***** of people waiting to check out.
Now, you ask, what nice service did this sales clerk provide? NOTHING! Waste of space and money to pay her salary. She literally just ripped the tags off the bras, removed the security thingers and then put the bras on the counter. This wasn’t anything that I or the cash register lady couldn’t do. Actually, I have nothing against her, but the one in front of me …
The attendant lady in front of me was taking the security tags off of another customer’s purchases and after the removal of each tag she FLUNG the item of clothing over her shoulder. I was so frazzled and ready to get out that I didn’t notice the dress flying towards my head and got smacked in the fact with some obnoxious bow or button. I wanted to punch her in the face.
Then, when you think the attendant lady would have moved to allow me to pay, she continued to stand there in front of me so that I couldn’t access the counter to give the woman my card … GAAAH!
I busted out of that stored like I was being let out of prison. I am NEVER doing that again!
Naturally, when I got back to Kat’s apartment everyone had gotten there and I was forced to show them my purchases. Later, when people had left and it was just Rachel and Kathryn in the apartment, I tried on my new bras for them and made sure that I was safe from the Honduran bra curse.
I swear, if I went through all that emotional trauma and Bourbon even so much as LOOKS at one of those bras I am selling him to the highest bidder!
Dog Woes
I was talking to my Dad the other day on the phone and he was asking about Bourbon …
“Dad,” I groan, “Puppies aren’t fun. They’re a lot of work!”
“Hannah, you only thought puppies were fun because you never had to train them or deal with their chewing …”
Touche.
The other day I can home from a long day of getting my butt kicked by Honduran mountains and creeks. I’ve always considered myself to be a well-balanced person, and despite not being the most graceful person (ironic because my name means “Graceful One”) I still manage to walk on more challenging terrain. Here I am in my state-of-the-art hiking boots that I agonized over for like 45 minutes in EMS before I bought them and I can’t maintain a vertical position. Then, the guys that are helping me on the study, have beat up sneakers and botas de hule (rain boots – PS that cost about $6.50 [130 Lempiras]) and they’re running circles around me on the steepest part of the study.
The particular study I am working on at the moment gave me the immense pleasure of having to cross a gazillion creeks. Now, I am developing a conspiracy theory that the U.S., in its quest to be perfect, has actually visited every creek in the U.S. and has arranged stones to make for easy crossing. Seriously, because Honduras does not have that and I don’t ever remember falling in a creek in the States. EVER!
The first day of the study my right boot squished the entire day because I managed to dip it in every body of water that we crossed. At the end of the second day my crossing skills were so poor that I might as well have just walked into the stream and just stood there. Ridiculous. By the second crossing we needed to make, which has fewer stepping rocks and was deeper, I just Carrie Bradshaw-running-in-heels “skipped” across the stream. I even added in her high pitched squeals for good measure.
What’s really funny is I’m a girl. See, in Honduras, women don’t do these sorts of things. Just so happens, that that second day the mountain had really kicked my @$$ and not only were my pants wet up to my knees, but absolutely covered in mud as well. Conveniently enough there was a meeting in ODECO right when I got (actually both days). Now day #1 was a meeting just within my office, which means they lock up the entire office and go into the conference room, which can be accessed outside. I’d be damned if I was going to walk that equipment back to my house, so I stood outside dancing around because of the immense embarrassment of having to interrupt the meeting, especially looking the way I did. Finally, I just went for it, like diving into freezing water … I opened the door and added a quick, “Disculpe…” and Carrie Bradshaw skipped as fast as I could into the main office. GOD THE SHAME! They all stared. I could feel it!
Anyways, the second day I didn’t have to interrupt my co-workers, but I did have to enter into the office when there were a bunch of families standing around, which meant the presence of several women. I walk in with my wet pants and frizzy hair and I literally could hear gasps. Literally. I waited around the office for the rain to chill out and I could hear women saying, “Do you see her? Que SUCIA! (How dirty!) Pobrecita (Poor thing!).” At least they aren’t criticizing me, but they feel bad for me, because it’s as if ODECO and Peace Corps are forcing me to do this work and get that dirty. In actuality, it’s because I am, apparently, completely inept at walking.
As a result of my inability to cross so much as a puddle, whenever we come across some semblance of a body of water, Niche, the fontanero (master plumber for the water system) holds my hands as I cross. Keeps me dry, but also brings snickers from his sons who are helping us.
That was a long sidenote. I’ll shorten the rest of the story then … I’m laying on my yoga mat trying to do sit-ups while systematically fighting off my puppy and I hear a sharp rap at my BACK door. Now, if it were Carlos Arturo his sing song voice would be calling my name. Apart from him no one should be visiting my house unannounced … HMMM! It was so wonderful too because I was still in my pajamas at around 10:00 am (work had been canceled). I slowly walk out to my back porch and find a man standing there that looks vaguely familiar, but it takes me a while to place him. He’s the guy who actually owns the house, the son of the people I’ve coordinated with to get the lease, etc.
He was just stopping by because he is in Corquin for a couple of days (he lives on their coffee finca) and wanted to check on the house. We were talking about stuff that needed to be done and he alerted me that he had sent someone to spray weed killer on my yard (the weeds were so big that even my gigantic puppy would get lost walking around in them). I wish he had told me that before and I am disappointed they also sprayed the flowers, but at least some things are getting done around here.
So, we’re standing there talking about various things and all the sudden Bourbon comes rushing around the corner with my bright pink, lacey Victoria’s Secret bra hanging from his mouth! The bra was one of the many clothing casualties, but one that I couldn’t sew back together so it was relinquished to Bourbon as a chew toy. I couldn’t have been more mortified and Jefferson (the guy) was obviously less mortified. I wanted to scream, “My underwear isn’t that fancy! That was the fanciest one! The others are cream and white! Nothing special!” I mean, Honduran men already have this idea that American women are incredibly sexually liberated and we’re sex goddesses. Now, excuse me for trying to set them right, but I don’t need any more attention on the streets than I already get and my dog running around with my lacey bra is precisely what I don’t want them to see.
To make things even better, when I left the house about an hour later I saw that Bourbon had deposited the bra on my front porch! AWESOME.
So this blog is entitled dog woes and that’s mostly because Bourbon has been a slight jerk the past few days. I was gone for about a week for Halloween and then I did work for a few days after that in a friend’s site. Bourbon stayed with my counter-part, Carlos Arturo. Apparently, he didn’t handle being tied-up outside well, but when they let him in the house he felt it was acceptable to jump up on their furniture. He can’t sleep anywhere that isn’t 100% comfortable.
After I got back I left again for an overnight trip to Santa Rosa to say good-bye to two friends. Bourbon stayed with my sitemate that night and apparently decided it was acceptable to poop and pee all over their front porch. PERFECT!
He was mad at me for being gone so long and I understand that. It’s really annoying that my damn dog is so damn vindictive, but what can I do? Well, yesterday I went to the office and left Bourbon on the line out back. Came home for a little bit to make lunch and then left again for about an hour to run some errands. I come home and he’s pulled my jeans and a nice shirt off the laundry line. Now, the jeans which already have holes and I only wear on studies are untouched. BUT! The nice pink shirt which was one of the only shirts I have left without stains/holes has a beautiful quarter-sized hole right in the front of the shirt. Will I sew it back together? Of course. Was I livid? You betcha!
As a punishment he stayed locked up on the line for the rest of the time I was home and then during my English classes. I told myself I would keep him out there all night, because I need to get him accustomed to being A DOG!, but I couldn’t be that mean and let him in.
Well, my allergies seemed to have taken on a new form of let’s-try-to-make-Hannah’s-head-explode and I was doing one of those fifteen sneezes in a row performances. I felt like crap and settled into bed with the cheery movie “Dark Knight” at around 7:30 pm. Another scheme of mine to get Bourbon less attached to me (and also reduce the ridiculous sneezing) is that he is now sleeping in his own room. Well, he didn’t like being excluded and it took a while for him to settle down. A couple of times I found him sleeping on the two chairs in my main room, which made me fly into a rage, “You little :expletive:! Why are you so bad?!”
What I have learned about a puppy is that if they are perfectly quiet they are destroying something or doing something bad. He was silent and all I could picture was him chewing my shoes. I paused the movie and grabbed my cell phone to light the house (it does a really poor job, PS).
“Where are you? What are you doing?”
He wasn’t in his dog bed and he wasn’t chewing shoes. Then I hear a “slurp.”
“Dammit are you licking my soap again?!” Puppy comes flying out from the shower curtain and in an attempt to grap him I smack my head on the wooden door frame. That was exactly the opposite of what I needed for my head at the moment. It hurt so bad I couldn’t even think or at least to think more than locking him in his room and crawling back into bed. That’s what I get for sometimes losing my mind with him, but when he gets several things in one day I just can’t handle it!
This morning I didn’t roll out of bed until 9 am, which is like sleeping in until 1 pm in the States. Noise here starts around 6 am when the construction workers get to the site in the morning. Usually I can force myself to sleep until 7 am if I am lucky. Today I was comatose until 7 am and that might have something to do with the two Benadryl I took in the middle of the night …
In my sneezing, I’m sleeping stupor I decided I couldn’t handle it anymore, and without even getting up, reached under my bed and pulled out my Peace Corps medical kit. I pulled it up onto my bed, found my cell phone and rummaged through it until I found the plastic bag holding Benadryl. I Ripped off two capsules, threw the briefcase sized medical kit on the floor, and took the Benadryl. Honestly, I was so desperate I wouldn’t be surprised if I had chewed them. I woke up this morning and was kind of disoriented when I saw how late it was. How could I manage to sleep this late? I look over at my night stand and see the two empty packages and laugh, “Oh Hannah.” I don’t know if that’s not safe, but all I know is I slept beautifully the rest of the night and I no longer feel as though my head is going to explode … maybe that’s because I killed so many brain cells.
When I got up this morning and looked into Bourbon’s room (I had been up earlier to let him out and feed him) he had been chewing the Frisbee that was given to me and he had pulled off my bookshelf.
“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” I like being able to say that!
“Dad,” I groan, “Puppies aren’t fun. They’re a lot of work!”
“Hannah, you only thought puppies were fun because you never had to train them or deal with their chewing …”
Touche.
The other day I can home from a long day of getting my butt kicked by Honduran mountains and creeks. I’ve always considered myself to be a well-balanced person, and despite not being the most graceful person (ironic because my name means “Graceful One”) I still manage to walk on more challenging terrain. Here I am in my state-of-the-art hiking boots that I agonized over for like 45 minutes in EMS before I bought them and I can’t maintain a vertical position. Then, the guys that are helping me on the study, have beat up sneakers and botas de hule (rain boots – PS that cost about $6.50 [130 Lempiras]) and they’re running circles around me on the steepest part of the study.
The particular study I am working on at the moment gave me the immense pleasure of having to cross a gazillion creeks. Now, I am developing a conspiracy theory that the U.S., in its quest to be perfect, has actually visited every creek in the U.S. and has arranged stones to make for easy crossing. Seriously, because Honduras does not have that and I don’t ever remember falling in a creek in the States. EVER!
The first day of the study my right boot squished the entire day because I managed to dip it in every body of water that we crossed. At the end of the second day my crossing skills were so poor that I might as well have just walked into the stream and just stood there. Ridiculous. By the second crossing we needed to make, which has fewer stepping rocks and was deeper, I just Carrie Bradshaw-running-in-heels “skipped” across the stream. I even added in her high pitched squeals for good measure.
What’s really funny is I’m a girl. See, in Honduras, women don’t do these sorts of things. Just so happens, that that second day the mountain had really kicked my @$$ and not only were my pants wet up to my knees, but absolutely covered in mud as well. Conveniently enough there was a meeting in ODECO right when I got (actually both days). Now day #1 was a meeting just within my office, which means they lock up the entire office and go into the conference room, which can be accessed outside. I’d be damned if I was going to walk that equipment back to my house, so I stood outside dancing around because of the immense embarrassment of having to interrupt the meeting, especially looking the way I did. Finally, I just went for it, like diving into freezing water … I opened the door and added a quick, “Disculpe…” and Carrie Bradshaw skipped as fast as I could into the main office. GOD THE SHAME! They all stared. I could feel it!
Anyways, the second day I didn’t have to interrupt my co-workers, but I did have to enter into the office when there were a bunch of families standing around, which meant the presence of several women. I walk in with my wet pants and frizzy hair and I literally could hear gasps. Literally. I waited around the office for the rain to chill out and I could hear women saying, “Do you see her? Que SUCIA! (How dirty!) Pobrecita (Poor thing!).” At least they aren’t criticizing me, but they feel bad for me, because it’s as if ODECO and Peace Corps are forcing me to do this work and get that dirty. In actuality, it’s because I am, apparently, completely inept at walking.
As a result of my inability to cross so much as a puddle, whenever we come across some semblance of a body of water, Niche, the fontanero (master plumber for the water system) holds my hands as I cross. Keeps me dry, but also brings snickers from his sons who are helping us.
That was a long sidenote. I’ll shorten the rest of the story then … I’m laying on my yoga mat trying to do sit-ups while systematically fighting off my puppy and I hear a sharp rap at my BACK door. Now, if it were Carlos Arturo his sing song voice would be calling my name. Apart from him no one should be visiting my house unannounced … HMMM! It was so wonderful too because I was still in my pajamas at around 10:00 am (work had been canceled). I slowly walk out to my back porch and find a man standing there that looks vaguely familiar, but it takes me a while to place him. He’s the guy who actually owns the house, the son of the people I’ve coordinated with to get the lease, etc.
He was just stopping by because he is in Corquin for a couple of days (he lives on their coffee finca) and wanted to check on the house. We were talking about stuff that needed to be done and he alerted me that he had sent someone to spray weed killer on my yard (the weeds were so big that even my gigantic puppy would get lost walking around in them). I wish he had told me that before and I am disappointed they also sprayed the flowers, but at least some things are getting done around here.
So, we’re standing there talking about various things and all the sudden Bourbon comes rushing around the corner with my bright pink, lacey Victoria’s Secret bra hanging from his mouth! The bra was one of the many clothing casualties, but one that I couldn’t sew back together so it was relinquished to Bourbon as a chew toy. I couldn’t have been more mortified and Jefferson (the guy) was obviously less mortified. I wanted to scream, “My underwear isn’t that fancy! That was the fanciest one! The others are cream and white! Nothing special!” I mean, Honduran men already have this idea that American women are incredibly sexually liberated and we’re sex goddesses. Now, excuse me for trying to set them right, but I don’t need any more attention on the streets than I already get and my dog running around with my lacey bra is precisely what I don’t want them to see.
To make things even better, when I left the house about an hour later I saw that Bourbon had deposited the bra on my front porch! AWESOME.
So this blog is entitled dog woes and that’s mostly because Bourbon has been a slight jerk the past few days. I was gone for about a week for Halloween and then I did work for a few days after that in a friend’s site. Bourbon stayed with my counter-part, Carlos Arturo. Apparently, he didn’t handle being tied-up outside well, but when they let him in the house he felt it was acceptable to jump up on their furniture. He can’t sleep anywhere that isn’t 100% comfortable.
After I got back I left again for an overnight trip to Santa Rosa to say good-bye to two friends. Bourbon stayed with my sitemate that night and apparently decided it was acceptable to poop and pee all over their front porch. PERFECT!
He was mad at me for being gone so long and I understand that. It’s really annoying that my damn dog is so damn vindictive, but what can I do? Well, yesterday I went to the office and left Bourbon on the line out back. Came home for a little bit to make lunch and then left again for about an hour to run some errands. I come home and he’s pulled my jeans and a nice shirt off the laundry line. Now, the jeans which already have holes and I only wear on studies are untouched. BUT! The nice pink shirt which was one of the only shirts I have left without stains/holes has a beautiful quarter-sized hole right in the front of the shirt. Will I sew it back together? Of course. Was I livid? You betcha!
As a punishment he stayed locked up on the line for the rest of the time I was home and then during my English classes. I told myself I would keep him out there all night, because I need to get him accustomed to being A DOG!, but I couldn’t be that mean and let him in.
Well, my allergies seemed to have taken on a new form of let’s-try-to-make-Hannah’s-head-explode and I was doing one of those fifteen sneezes in a row performances. I felt like crap and settled into bed with the cheery movie “Dark Knight” at around 7:30 pm. Another scheme of mine to get Bourbon less attached to me (and also reduce the ridiculous sneezing) is that he is now sleeping in his own room. Well, he didn’t like being excluded and it took a while for him to settle down. A couple of times I found him sleeping on the two chairs in my main room, which made me fly into a rage, “You little :expletive:! Why are you so bad?!”
What I have learned about a puppy is that if they are perfectly quiet they are destroying something or doing something bad. He was silent and all I could picture was him chewing my shoes. I paused the movie and grabbed my cell phone to light the house (it does a really poor job, PS).
“Where are you? What are you doing?”
He wasn’t in his dog bed and he wasn’t chewing shoes. Then I hear a “slurp.”
“Dammit are you licking my soap again?!” Puppy comes flying out from the shower curtain and in an attempt to grap him I smack my head on the wooden door frame. That was exactly the opposite of what I needed for my head at the moment. It hurt so bad I couldn’t even think or at least to think more than locking him in his room and crawling back into bed. That’s what I get for sometimes losing my mind with him, but when he gets several things in one day I just can’t handle it!
This morning I didn’t roll out of bed until 9 am, which is like sleeping in until 1 pm in the States. Noise here starts around 6 am when the construction workers get to the site in the morning. Usually I can force myself to sleep until 7 am if I am lucky. Today I was comatose until 7 am and that might have something to do with the two Benadryl I took in the middle of the night …
In my sneezing, I’m sleeping stupor I decided I couldn’t handle it anymore, and without even getting up, reached under my bed and pulled out my Peace Corps medical kit. I pulled it up onto my bed, found my cell phone and rummaged through it until I found the plastic bag holding Benadryl. I Ripped off two capsules, threw the briefcase sized medical kit on the floor, and took the Benadryl. Honestly, I was so desperate I wouldn’t be surprised if I had chewed them. I woke up this morning and was kind of disoriented when I saw how late it was. How could I manage to sleep this late? I look over at my night stand and see the two empty packages and laugh, “Oh Hannah.” I don’t know if that’s not safe, but all I know is I slept beautifully the rest of the night and I no longer feel as though my head is going to explode … maybe that’s because I killed so many brain cells.
When I got up this morning and looked into Bourbon’s room (I had been up earlier to let him out and feed him) he had been chewing the Frisbee that was given to me and he had pulled off my bookshelf.
“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” I like being able to say that!
Am I Equipped for This?
I mentioned in my last email that I went on a “retreat” with my office on Tuesday and Wednesday. We had a hellish meeting on Monday and Abran mentioned that, if some people didn’t show up, that I might be able to go.
Note on hellish meetings in Honduras: They’re everywhere! Each month we have an office meeting where everyone goes over what they did last month and what they will do the current month. Now, not to be a snobbish American or anything, but this issue baffled my mind. So, in our office there are various projects going at the same time. There’s the team working with agro-negocios (agricultural businesses), the people working with small-scale farmers and then also a small team that works with Heifer Project International. There was a complaint that the tecnicos (working with the small scale farmers) didn’t attend a meeting with the business people. Well, in all fairness, the tecnicos weren’t told that this meeting was taking place. Anyways, the conclusion to this problem was that there should be communication amongst the projects … As in, before there wasn’t communication between the projects. I mean, it’s just kind of funny, because it was a significant revelation for them and I’m just sitting there thinking, “I can’t believe this didn’t occur to you before…”
So, I show up to the office on Tuesday morning and it turns out that a few people weren’t able to go and therefore I was invited along. I was kind of unsure about going. The Monday meeting was all-day Spanish and having another 2 days full of Spanish was sure to render me incapable of any languages by Thursday. Hearing or speaking that much Spanish is EXHAUSTING and has a serious affect on my mental capabilities in general. Also, like it or not I don’t have that much to talk to these people about. I’m not the best small conversationalist and when it’s hard to find common ground it really makes things even worse for me. I didn’t know what I was going to do, really. But, it wasn’t something I could turn down and I would have been lame for not going because I was concerned about it being awkward. I mean, if I wanted to avoid awkwardness in Honduras I could simply never leave my house.
We got a chartered busito (smaller than a bus) all the way to Gracias, Lempira. In all I think it took us 4 hours to get there. I love Honduras. So we end up leaving the office at 8:30 and we stop in Santa Rosa for merienda. There people don’t go more than 2 hours without eating. So we stop and have our coffee and tajadas and continue on our merry way to the finca.
There’s a network of fincas (farms) in Honduras called fincas humanas (I’m not translating that for you guys). So these fincas are all about innovative, organic farming, but also focusing on the social aspect of a farm. They do a lot with the family and encouraging the participation of women in the family, etc. We actually visited the most advanced one in Siguatepeque during Reconnect and it was really interesting. This guy had a lot more going on, but the guy in Gracias has some good ideas too. Actually, he might have been better because he was closer to where our productores are, which I think was more encouraging for them.
We immediately got to work when we got there. We started by hearing about how he started his farm, etc. Honestly, I could barely understand the man, but I know that he only finished first grade before he started working. He couldn’t read or write, but over the years through working and saving was finally able to buy his own land. In that time, he also taught himself to read and write; it was really quite an inspirational story. Over time he could slowly expand his property and through training and such he became involved in the Finca Humana and now has a small training center.
I think the most interesting thing, for me, was spending that much time with the productores and their families. Only one wife accompanied her husband, even though it was suggested that couples come if at all possible. All the other men brought their children, which I thought was interesting. A couple brought their sons who are their right-hand-boys, but a couple brought their daughters, which I guess almost counts as their wives.
Throughout the 24 hours or so that we were in the training center both Don Moises (the owner) and our tecnicos kept talking about the importance of the involvement of the women. Now, this commendable and I’m not complaining about that fact, but they were talking out of both sides of their mouths. Social change like the emancipation of women didn’t happen overnight, especially without anyone really making much of an effort or expecting immediate change.
For instance, these families are committed to making such changes. The projects don’t just involve what’s going on in their fields, but also in their houses. The idea is that these families advance in all manners. Great. Awesome. Wonderful. BUT, there are still clear boundaries between the territory of men and women in this country. One of the activities was learning how to “injertar.” They got little branches of grown lemon and orange trees and then cut them so that they could be inserted into an 8 month old tree of lemon. That way, when the tree gets bigger it’s actually growing oranges even though it may be a lemon tree. I know that wasn’t articulate, but I can’t remember what you would call that in English and I don’t have internet right now.
Anyways, so all the women had to do this too, which was great. But, fact of the matter is, when they go home to their houses the women won’t be doing this sort of work. ODECO and finca humana showcases might encourage the women to get out and participate in the finca, but they’re needed more in the home and therefore they won’t ever really do it. Now, I know the thought is important as well, but I think if these people are really serious about involving women then they have to give the women a reason to be involved.
I honestly think the one wife that did end up coming was A) forced to B) just wanted to get out of the house. There wasn’t anything all that interesting there for her. If someone wants me to leave my children, my housework and my chickens (women care for the chickens in this country) there better be a damn good reason for it. What’s in it for me? And in this finca there really wasn’t anything for these women. Why not, while the men are learning about fertilizers and they like, women get a different informational session on fogones (stoves). Every women has a fogon and most of them suck because they were never constructed properly. Show them a sample of a good fogon or the importance of having proper ventilation. Let them share bread recipes or give them more sanitation orientated information because they are the primary caregivers in their household. Educate them about fincas and the importance of THEIR work in the farm. Give them something interesting to participate in when they aren’t interested in what the men are doing.
That was my rant. I thought they were a little hypocritical, but at least they’re beginning to get there. Oh, one more thing! There is NO chivalry in Honduras!! You’ll see a couple riding around on a motorcycle and the guy will have the helmet on! I mean, if Chris did that to me I would be seriously offended. That’s just me.
So there were three rooms we slept in that night. The men were in one room and the women were in another. The doors to the rooms were locked and when Don Moises opened the first room (where the women were to sleep) nervous squeals erupted from the crowd around the door. I didn’t think much of it, but then this contest for beds started and I got curious as to the accommodations and wandered over there… BUNK BEDS! Now for me, bunk beds bring flashbacks of being a kid and fighting over the top bunk at sleepovers, rented houses and the like. I thought it was hilarious and economical, but the Hondurans were really nervous. I mean, I guess the majority of these families don’t have bunk beds (although, for the number of children they have and the space that’s available to them it would really make more sense). A lot of the kids ended up grabbing the top bunks. I think some were forced and only the more brave ones actually elected them.
Well, we’re getting ready to go to bed and I was exhausted. A couple of the younger girls decide to share and proceeded to spend like 45 minutes shuffling the mattress around so that it wasn’t close to the edge. They were climbing around up there and would occasionally squeal with fear about falling over. After what seemed like forever everyone got settled down and I was hoping I would be able to sleep. We were forced to keep the light on because the girls were afraid of sleeping away from home and didn’t want the light to be off. Now, I was on the top bunk (everyone thought I was so brave and were amazed I didn’t take the bottom bunk under me that was open) and I’m trying to forget the light was on (it’s been years since I’ve had to sleep all night with the light on) and the girl, Blanca, sharing with another girl decides she can’t sleep on the outside up top and then we start musical beds all over again.
It was really cold that night and I had a hard time sleeping between that and the light being on. I remember I rolled over at one point during the night and looked over at one of the girls and she was staring at me. SO CREEPY! I pretended I didn’t notice and then had to coach myself that she wasn’t a zombie before I fell back asleep again.
Anyways, we woke up in the morning and instead of asking the usual, “Como almanecio? “How did you wake (up)?” but “Did you/anyone fall of the top bed last night?”
Apparently people thought someone fell in the girls’ room last night, but they were probably just deceived by all the giggling and musical-bed-playing that the girls were doing. During the whole choosing-of-the-beds it ended up that Armando, one of the ODECO tecnicos was above one of the skinnier, smaller guys in the group. Not only is Armando a heavier guy, but he’s also taller than most Honduran men (probably 5’9”). The entire day Denis, one of the productores, was worrying about the bed breaking during the night. Well…
Around midnight Armando decided he couldn’t sleep was going to take a walk around the farm for a little bit. He gets up and starts climbing down the bunk and Denis sits up and screams “SANTA MARIA!” and jumps out of bed. This probably doesn’t translate well on the internet, but they had me hysterically laughing each time they told the story (which ended up being 100 times by the end of the day!). SANTA MARIA! He thought the bed was collapsing and sprung out of bed as fast as he could. If you had seen how preoccupied these people were about these beds maybe it would be a little funnier for you, but I still can’t help but laugh.
Did I learn a lot at this finca? Yes. Is it really anything that I can take and apply to my work in Peace Corps? Yes, because while it may not pertain to Wat/San, it will help me relate to the people and understand better what they are trying to implement in their fincas. In hindsight I should have asked where water and sanitation entered into their finca to see if he had any new insights, but there wasn’t really a place that that would have been pertinent.
I think what was more poignant about that trip was the experience I had with the people. By the end of the second day the girls were hanging onto me and asking me more questions. I had opened up more too and felt more comfortable making small talk. But also, it’s recognizing the fundamental differences between my life experience and their life experience that really struck me. The fact that bunk beds could stir people like that and make them that emotional and excited is something so small, but so striking. I’m sure they’ve seen bunk beds on T.V. or in the stores, but most had probably never actually slept in one. Their lives are so isolated and I think a lot of the time I don’t realize how isolated they are or rather, how immensely different their experiences are from mine.
It’s hard to express the experience … well here’s how I can try explain it:
Often times when you talk to people in Honduras they will ask you a question like so, “Is it true in the United States that…” Insert in that space anything you want and I have probably been asked that question. Now they’ve seen movies from the U.S. and have family members that tell them things about the States (still usually wrong) and they form judgments and assumptions about life there accordingly.
Before I came to Honduras with the Peace Corps I didn’t have any exposure to the country or the culture. I knew absolutely nothing about Honduras. When I got my assignment the first thing I did was hop on Wikipedia and got the general information about the country. But Wikipedia isn’t able to tell you: “The people you might have contact with won’t be comfortable with spending a night away from home because they never have before.” Or whatever. The thing is, there are so many days (every day) that I’m not prepared for what I experience. Do I know we live totally different lives? Yes. But, at the same time, that doesn’t mean that the differences aren’t incredibly striking when you experience them.
Speaking of the “Is it true in the United States that…” The other night I went to my English classes only to discover that the lights weren’t working in the classroom. We just stood outside for a little bit, which opened me up to the usual barrage of questions and one in particular really surprised me…
“Hannah, is it true in the United States that, when a woman is lonely, she can buy a part of a man…?”
Hannah stands there, running through all the various interpretations this question could have, wishing that she could just disappear “Como/COME AGAIN?”
I actually couldn’t really understand her that well and had to get a couple of repeats of the question before I ventured to think that I understood what she was asking. This made the situation all that more awkward.
“You know when a woman doesn’t have a man and she still has needs … she can buy a penis…”
“To have sexual relations…” finally finishes one of the other students.
At that point I couldn’t really play dumb and had to think for a few seconds how I was going to diplomatically answer this question before these girls thought all women in the U.S. used vibrators/dildos and they’re on the shelves in the grocery store. It’s really hard to explain these matters to giggly teenage girls in broken Spanish. I tried to be diplomatic and politically correct, but in the end I think I only confirmed their existence in the U.S. market. That was one I really wasn’t expecting!
Pretty much every day I think “I AM NOT EQUIPPED FOR THIS!”
Note on hellish meetings in Honduras: They’re everywhere! Each month we have an office meeting where everyone goes over what they did last month and what they will do the current month. Now, not to be a snobbish American or anything, but this issue baffled my mind. So, in our office there are various projects going at the same time. There’s the team working with agro-negocios (agricultural businesses), the people working with small-scale farmers and then also a small team that works with Heifer Project International. There was a complaint that the tecnicos (working with the small scale farmers) didn’t attend a meeting with the business people. Well, in all fairness, the tecnicos weren’t told that this meeting was taking place. Anyways, the conclusion to this problem was that there should be communication amongst the projects … As in, before there wasn’t communication between the projects. I mean, it’s just kind of funny, because it was a significant revelation for them and I’m just sitting there thinking, “I can’t believe this didn’t occur to you before…”
So, I show up to the office on Tuesday morning and it turns out that a few people weren’t able to go and therefore I was invited along. I was kind of unsure about going. The Monday meeting was all-day Spanish and having another 2 days full of Spanish was sure to render me incapable of any languages by Thursday. Hearing or speaking that much Spanish is EXHAUSTING and has a serious affect on my mental capabilities in general. Also, like it or not I don’t have that much to talk to these people about. I’m not the best small conversationalist and when it’s hard to find common ground it really makes things even worse for me. I didn’t know what I was going to do, really. But, it wasn’t something I could turn down and I would have been lame for not going because I was concerned about it being awkward. I mean, if I wanted to avoid awkwardness in Honduras I could simply never leave my house.
We got a chartered busito (smaller than a bus) all the way to Gracias, Lempira. In all I think it took us 4 hours to get there. I love Honduras. So we end up leaving the office at 8:30 and we stop in Santa Rosa for merienda. There people don’t go more than 2 hours without eating. So we stop and have our coffee and tajadas and continue on our merry way to the finca.
There’s a network of fincas (farms) in Honduras called fincas humanas (I’m not translating that for you guys). So these fincas are all about innovative, organic farming, but also focusing on the social aspect of a farm. They do a lot with the family and encouraging the participation of women in the family, etc. We actually visited the most advanced one in Siguatepeque during Reconnect and it was really interesting. This guy had a lot more going on, but the guy in Gracias has some good ideas too. Actually, he might have been better because he was closer to where our productores are, which I think was more encouraging for them.
We immediately got to work when we got there. We started by hearing about how he started his farm, etc. Honestly, I could barely understand the man, but I know that he only finished first grade before he started working. He couldn’t read or write, but over the years through working and saving was finally able to buy his own land. In that time, he also taught himself to read and write; it was really quite an inspirational story. Over time he could slowly expand his property and through training and such he became involved in the Finca Humana and now has a small training center.
I think the most interesting thing, for me, was spending that much time with the productores and their families. Only one wife accompanied her husband, even though it was suggested that couples come if at all possible. All the other men brought their children, which I thought was interesting. A couple brought their sons who are their right-hand-boys, but a couple brought their daughters, which I guess almost counts as their wives.
Throughout the 24 hours or so that we were in the training center both Don Moises (the owner) and our tecnicos kept talking about the importance of the involvement of the women. Now, this commendable and I’m not complaining about that fact, but they were talking out of both sides of their mouths. Social change like the emancipation of women didn’t happen overnight, especially without anyone really making much of an effort or expecting immediate change.
For instance, these families are committed to making such changes. The projects don’t just involve what’s going on in their fields, but also in their houses. The idea is that these families advance in all manners. Great. Awesome. Wonderful. BUT, there are still clear boundaries between the territory of men and women in this country. One of the activities was learning how to “injertar.” They got little branches of grown lemon and orange trees and then cut them so that they could be inserted into an 8 month old tree of lemon. That way, when the tree gets bigger it’s actually growing oranges even though it may be a lemon tree. I know that wasn’t articulate, but I can’t remember what you would call that in English and I don’t have internet right now.
Anyways, so all the women had to do this too, which was great. But, fact of the matter is, when they go home to their houses the women won’t be doing this sort of work. ODECO and finca humana showcases might encourage the women to get out and participate in the finca, but they’re needed more in the home and therefore they won’t ever really do it. Now, I know the thought is important as well, but I think if these people are really serious about involving women then they have to give the women a reason to be involved.
I honestly think the one wife that did end up coming was A) forced to B) just wanted to get out of the house. There wasn’t anything all that interesting there for her. If someone wants me to leave my children, my housework and my chickens (women care for the chickens in this country) there better be a damn good reason for it. What’s in it for me? And in this finca there really wasn’t anything for these women. Why not, while the men are learning about fertilizers and they like, women get a different informational session on fogones (stoves). Every women has a fogon and most of them suck because they were never constructed properly. Show them a sample of a good fogon or the importance of having proper ventilation. Let them share bread recipes or give them more sanitation orientated information because they are the primary caregivers in their household. Educate them about fincas and the importance of THEIR work in the farm. Give them something interesting to participate in when they aren’t interested in what the men are doing.
That was my rant. I thought they were a little hypocritical, but at least they’re beginning to get there. Oh, one more thing! There is NO chivalry in Honduras!! You’ll see a couple riding around on a motorcycle and the guy will have the helmet on! I mean, if Chris did that to me I would be seriously offended. That’s just me.
So there were three rooms we slept in that night. The men were in one room and the women were in another. The doors to the rooms were locked and when Don Moises opened the first room (where the women were to sleep) nervous squeals erupted from the crowd around the door. I didn’t think much of it, but then this contest for beds started and I got curious as to the accommodations and wandered over there… BUNK BEDS! Now for me, bunk beds bring flashbacks of being a kid and fighting over the top bunk at sleepovers, rented houses and the like. I thought it was hilarious and economical, but the Hondurans were really nervous. I mean, I guess the majority of these families don’t have bunk beds (although, for the number of children they have and the space that’s available to them it would really make more sense). A lot of the kids ended up grabbing the top bunks. I think some were forced and only the more brave ones actually elected them.
Well, we’re getting ready to go to bed and I was exhausted. A couple of the younger girls decide to share and proceeded to spend like 45 minutes shuffling the mattress around so that it wasn’t close to the edge. They were climbing around up there and would occasionally squeal with fear about falling over. After what seemed like forever everyone got settled down and I was hoping I would be able to sleep. We were forced to keep the light on because the girls were afraid of sleeping away from home and didn’t want the light to be off. Now, I was on the top bunk (everyone thought I was so brave and were amazed I didn’t take the bottom bunk under me that was open) and I’m trying to forget the light was on (it’s been years since I’ve had to sleep all night with the light on) and the girl, Blanca, sharing with another girl decides she can’t sleep on the outside up top and then we start musical beds all over again.
It was really cold that night and I had a hard time sleeping between that and the light being on. I remember I rolled over at one point during the night and looked over at one of the girls and she was staring at me. SO CREEPY! I pretended I didn’t notice and then had to coach myself that she wasn’t a zombie before I fell back asleep again.
Anyways, we woke up in the morning and instead of asking the usual, “Como almanecio? “How did you wake (up)?” but “Did you/anyone fall of the top bed last night?”
Apparently people thought someone fell in the girls’ room last night, but they were probably just deceived by all the giggling and musical-bed-playing that the girls were doing. During the whole choosing-of-the-beds it ended up that Armando, one of the ODECO tecnicos was above one of the skinnier, smaller guys in the group. Not only is Armando a heavier guy, but he’s also taller than most Honduran men (probably 5’9”). The entire day Denis, one of the productores, was worrying about the bed breaking during the night. Well…
Around midnight Armando decided he couldn’t sleep was going to take a walk around the farm for a little bit. He gets up and starts climbing down the bunk and Denis sits up and screams “SANTA MARIA!” and jumps out of bed. This probably doesn’t translate well on the internet, but they had me hysterically laughing each time they told the story (which ended up being 100 times by the end of the day!). SANTA MARIA! He thought the bed was collapsing and sprung out of bed as fast as he could. If you had seen how preoccupied these people were about these beds maybe it would be a little funnier for you, but I still can’t help but laugh.
Did I learn a lot at this finca? Yes. Is it really anything that I can take and apply to my work in Peace Corps? Yes, because while it may not pertain to Wat/San, it will help me relate to the people and understand better what they are trying to implement in their fincas. In hindsight I should have asked where water and sanitation entered into their finca to see if he had any new insights, but there wasn’t really a place that that would have been pertinent.
I think what was more poignant about that trip was the experience I had with the people. By the end of the second day the girls were hanging onto me and asking me more questions. I had opened up more too and felt more comfortable making small talk. But also, it’s recognizing the fundamental differences between my life experience and their life experience that really struck me. The fact that bunk beds could stir people like that and make them that emotional and excited is something so small, but so striking. I’m sure they’ve seen bunk beds on T.V. or in the stores, but most had probably never actually slept in one. Their lives are so isolated and I think a lot of the time I don’t realize how isolated they are or rather, how immensely different their experiences are from mine.
It’s hard to express the experience … well here’s how I can try explain it:
Often times when you talk to people in Honduras they will ask you a question like so, “Is it true in the United States that…” Insert in that space anything you want and I have probably been asked that question. Now they’ve seen movies from the U.S. and have family members that tell them things about the States (still usually wrong) and they form judgments and assumptions about life there accordingly.
Before I came to Honduras with the Peace Corps I didn’t have any exposure to the country or the culture. I knew absolutely nothing about Honduras. When I got my assignment the first thing I did was hop on Wikipedia and got the general information about the country. But Wikipedia isn’t able to tell you: “The people you might have contact with won’t be comfortable with spending a night away from home because they never have before.” Or whatever. The thing is, there are so many days (every day) that I’m not prepared for what I experience. Do I know we live totally different lives? Yes. But, at the same time, that doesn’t mean that the differences aren’t incredibly striking when you experience them.
Speaking of the “Is it true in the United States that…” The other night I went to my English classes only to discover that the lights weren’t working in the classroom. We just stood outside for a little bit, which opened me up to the usual barrage of questions and one in particular really surprised me…
“Hannah, is it true in the United States that, when a woman is lonely, she can buy a part of a man…?”
Hannah stands there, running through all the various interpretations this question could have, wishing that she could just disappear “Como/COME AGAIN?”
I actually couldn’t really understand her that well and had to get a couple of repeats of the question before I ventured to think that I understood what she was asking. This made the situation all that more awkward.
“You know when a woman doesn’t have a man and she still has needs … she can buy a penis…”
“To have sexual relations…” finally finishes one of the other students.
At that point I couldn’t really play dumb and had to think for a few seconds how I was going to diplomatically answer this question before these girls thought all women in the U.S. used vibrators/dildos and they’re on the shelves in the grocery store. It’s really hard to explain these matters to giggly teenage girls in broken Spanish. I tried to be diplomatic and politically correct, but in the end I think I only confirmed their existence in the U.S. market. That was one I really wasn’t expecting!
Pretty much every day I think “I AM NOT EQUIPPED FOR THIS!”
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Timeshare with Cockroaches
I finished my first study yesterday. I’m done with the equipment at least and now have moved on to the ever-so-scary design process. One of the earlier Wat/San Volunteers made this uber complicated spreadsheet on Excel to design these gravity systems. I mean, this thing is so massive that whenever I save it my computer is too overwhelmed to function for 30 seconds; this is the new computer!
Anyways, I was thinking this morning about the weird creatures (mostly bugs) that I have encountered in my time in Honduras. What does this have to do with my study? I’m not sure, but manly the campesinos that help me during the studies really only seem to enjoy the part where the show the gringa the creepy bugs along the way. Yesterday was the first day I had done a study by myself and it was really boring. I mean, with Kathryn there we can joke around a little bit and it eventually gets boring, but it’s not the entire day alone! The campesinos don’t really talk that much. The only time they get animated is when they get to chop stuff down to clear a view for the equipment. For those 5 minutes they’re chattering and destroying every living thing in their way and then they return to being zombies when I shout, “Ok! That’s enough!” I mean, they’re chopping stuff that isn’t even remotely close to the equipment at this point. These guys are machete happy … and it makes me want one!
According to the campesinos everything “pica.” Everything stings and everything will manchar (like stain) my skin, especially gringas. Despite the fact that every bug in Honduras seems to pose a serious threat to my health and my skin I have developed a tolerance for freaky bugs. I was never one to be scared of bugs or spiders. I have bugs that I don’t like and the weirder ones always provoke a little more hesitance, but mostly I am a tolerant person on the bug front.
Although, what I am not tolerant of are the tiny gnat-like creatures in the campo! Yesterday I didn’t wear long-sleeves to Joconales and immediately regretted it. Those little buggers bite and it hurts! It’s not like mosquitoes where it’s just annoying; you have these bites for DAYS and they ache and itch at the same time! Terrible creatures and apparently there’s a plague in Joconales. LOVE IT! Also, they seem to love biting on the elbows, which is just cruel. I don’t know if you are able to recall how terrible it is for your elbow to itch, but trust me, it’s terribly annoying! Actually, yesterday I experienced my first neck bite and I will say that that’s rivaling the elbows. So uncalled for!
Despite the fact that my house is a little old and seems to be more open to a myriad of problems, such as cockroaches, electrical problems and an increasingly leaky roof, it does seem to keep out the really creepy creatures.
I have a very large spider that lives in my bathroom who I have decided to leave in my bathroom. Every day I regarded him with some hesitence because he is quite an interesting looking spider. By interesting I mean terrifying. Probably the day I named him, Flat Stanley, was the day it was decided he wouldn’t be humanely disposed of outside. I was contemplating name options when I was … brushing my teeth … and Flat Stanley seemed perfect. He’s flat, but also the name brings back warmer childhood memories (I never actually did Flat Stanley, but my brother and sister did and I remember thinking it was a cool idea…) and therefore makes him less terrifying. I hadn’t seen Flat Stanley in a while and was starting to worry that he had deserted me, but when I was brushing my teeth this morning he was there in his usual spot. He is pretty creepy looking; didn’t really remember how creepy looking he is, but now that he’s named he’s here to stay.
I’ve also accepted the presence (albeit diminished presence) of cockroaches in my house. I don’t see them as often as I used to. The can of Raid still resides in a handy spot, but hasn’t been used in a little while. All my food is securely stored in various containers and I think this has helped a lot. My bathroom seems to be their main stronghold, which is acceptable, I suppose. On midnight puppy pee outings I see fewer of those nasty little creatures running around. I tried to drown one in the sink the other night, but was unsuccessful. My only real problem with them being in the bathroom is their potential occupation of the toilet seat. Ensuring that my puppy is not going to pee all over the house (which he somehow still accomplishes some nights) I also find it is also good for the health of my bladder.
One of the first couple of nights I lived here I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night and noticed movement under the toilet seat. I should have ignored my curiosity and endured the urge, but instead lifted the toilet seat to find like three cockroaches crawling around. GROSS. Since then I’ve had this fear that they’re there every time I go to sit down. Also doesn’t help that I don’t have electricity in my bathroom and therefore have to rely on a headlamp to light the room.
Remember, as a kid where you just have unfounded fears of certain things? Monsters under the bed, wolves in the backyard at night (that was me) or possibly creepy creatures crawling out of the toilet bowl? No? No one? I remember a classmate supposedly “read” in the newspaper (keep in mind I was probably in third grade when this happened) that a baby alligator was living in a family’s toilet and they discovered its residence in their bathroom when it viciously bit the father during a prolonged bathroom visit. For a while after I heard this story I was a little freaked out that we had a baby alligator too. I remember trying to find the most effective I’m-ready-to-flee position, all the while momentarily checking that nothing had climbed out of the plumbing.
With time and maturity I think I eventually got over the fear, but now I feel like a little kid again. I routinely clean my bathroom to keep it from being gross and therefore desirable place for cockroaches to live. Even though I doubt they’re still wandering around my toilet bowl I cannot help but have a little bit of anxiety each time I go in there in the middle of the night. I think the kid inside me is somewhat triumphant that one of those “unfounded fears” has somewhat been fulfilled.
At any rate, I now consider myself to have timeshare with cockroaches. I am the daytime inhabitant and they are permitted limited roaming in the night time. One creature that has been denied a timeshare was the creepy little creature I encountered in my bed last night. I was putting some clothes away and saw something dart under the sheet; “Aww HELL NO!”
Outside: perfect.
On the floor, in my house: permissible.
Under the toilet seat: depends on your biting capabilities.
In my bed: not in your life!
Not only was this THING in my bed, but it was one funky looking bug. It almost looked what I would imagine a baby scorpion to look like. It was about half an inch long and had what appeared to be underdeveloped claws. The thorax was kind of like a bee with striped black and orange. It took me forever to get it onto a tissue and I promptly tossed it out the window. I then had to empty my entire bed to ensure that its brothers and sisters weren’t crawling around in my sheets still.
So this is the agreement I’ve struck with the bugs here in Honduras and with Honduras itself. There are certain parts of Honduras and its culture that I will politely tolerate and other things that I just can’t bring myself to accept. For instance, they are building a warehouse in front of my house. I now have about 15 Honduran men outside my home from 6:30 am to about 4:00 pm, unless they decide to hang out on the steps and drink soda (at least it’s not alcohol). After the first week of “Hello amor!” every time I passed, we have now gotten it down to “Hello!” Granted I can still hear them say, “Here she comes!” or “She’s going to take me to the States!” but I appreciated the effort at discretion. I think they realized I ignored them more when they harassed me than when they were more polite.
SIDENOTE: I just had to chase a vulture away from drinking out of my pila. I wash my clothes with that water! UNACCEPTABLE. No timeshare there either!
Anyways, there’s a little boy (like 12 years old) that continuously harasses me. I mean, every time I pass I hear, “TSSSST TSST TSSST!” Do this out loud. Go ahead, do it. Have a friend do it. Now imagine some prepubescent little boy doing this multiple times as day TO HIT ON YOU! How annoying is that?? It’s supposed to be a compliment, but to me it’s more like nails on a chalkboard. Plus, after the first couple of times I get the point and don’t feel as though it’s necessary for this to occur every time I pass!
I have now taken to just mumbling like a crazy woman when I walk by, “:mumble: how OLD are you?? :mumble mumble:”
“I’m old enough to be your mother! … Hannah, that’s a long shot. I mean, you would have had to be sexually active at a pretty early age …” At this point I realize people are staring at me, not in the “There’s the white girl!” way, but the, “Hey look … the white girl is talking to herself, weird.” sort of way.
On less tolerant days, “F******* OFF!” Being in Honduras has encouraged my swearing because there’s this assumption that people can’t understand that you’re saying…
A) Hondurans watch enough movies that they might recognize the majority of the words
B) The general sentiment of swearing is generally understood (like when my electricity went out and I used every curse word to express my frustration. My neighbor who yelled, “Hey!” probably understood more or less that these were bad words.
I’ve been trying to make more of an effort, but with this kid I just can’t help myself. That’s my least favorite form of pirropos (cat-calling), the “TSSST TSSST!” Little creeper. Maybe if he thinks I’m crazy he won’t bother me so much.
This was meant to be a short little blog about bugs and turned into a freaking novel. I’m sitting outside, letting the puppy dig up more trash in my backyard and enjoying my new battery life, and it’s so beautiful out that I just kept writing. Also, I think I was in the mood to write a blog, which is good because they’re usually more interesting that way. I should probably do laundry, sweep my floors or start this terrifying design. Probably won’t. Probably will go and watch more Sex and the City and then take a nap. I love being a free agent!
Anyways, I was thinking this morning about the weird creatures (mostly bugs) that I have encountered in my time in Honduras. What does this have to do with my study? I’m not sure, but manly the campesinos that help me during the studies really only seem to enjoy the part where the show the gringa the creepy bugs along the way. Yesterday was the first day I had done a study by myself and it was really boring. I mean, with Kathryn there we can joke around a little bit and it eventually gets boring, but it’s not the entire day alone! The campesinos don’t really talk that much. The only time they get animated is when they get to chop stuff down to clear a view for the equipment. For those 5 minutes they’re chattering and destroying every living thing in their way and then they return to being zombies when I shout, “Ok! That’s enough!” I mean, they’re chopping stuff that isn’t even remotely close to the equipment at this point. These guys are machete happy … and it makes me want one!
According to the campesinos everything “pica.” Everything stings and everything will manchar (like stain) my skin, especially gringas. Despite the fact that every bug in Honduras seems to pose a serious threat to my health and my skin I have developed a tolerance for freaky bugs. I was never one to be scared of bugs or spiders. I have bugs that I don’t like and the weirder ones always provoke a little more hesitance, but mostly I am a tolerant person on the bug front.
Although, what I am not tolerant of are the tiny gnat-like creatures in the campo! Yesterday I didn’t wear long-sleeves to Joconales and immediately regretted it. Those little buggers bite and it hurts! It’s not like mosquitoes where it’s just annoying; you have these bites for DAYS and they ache and itch at the same time! Terrible creatures and apparently there’s a plague in Joconales. LOVE IT! Also, they seem to love biting on the elbows, which is just cruel. I don’t know if you are able to recall how terrible it is for your elbow to itch, but trust me, it’s terribly annoying! Actually, yesterday I experienced my first neck bite and I will say that that’s rivaling the elbows. So uncalled for!
Despite the fact that my house is a little old and seems to be more open to a myriad of problems, such as cockroaches, electrical problems and an increasingly leaky roof, it does seem to keep out the really creepy creatures.
I have a very large spider that lives in my bathroom who I have decided to leave in my bathroom. Every day I regarded him with some hesitence because he is quite an interesting looking spider. By interesting I mean terrifying. Probably the day I named him, Flat Stanley, was the day it was decided he wouldn’t be humanely disposed of outside. I was contemplating name options when I was … brushing my teeth … and Flat Stanley seemed perfect. He’s flat, but also the name brings back warmer childhood memories (I never actually did Flat Stanley, but my brother and sister did and I remember thinking it was a cool idea…) and therefore makes him less terrifying. I hadn’t seen Flat Stanley in a while and was starting to worry that he had deserted me, but when I was brushing my teeth this morning he was there in his usual spot. He is pretty creepy looking; didn’t really remember how creepy looking he is, but now that he’s named he’s here to stay.
I’ve also accepted the presence (albeit diminished presence) of cockroaches in my house. I don’t see them as often as I used to. The can of Raid still resides in a handy spot, but hasn’t been used in a little while. All my food is securely stored in various containers and I think this has helped a lot. My bathroom seems to be their main stronghold, which is acceptable, I suppose. On midnight puppy pee outings I see fewer of those nasty little creatures running around. I tried to drown one in the sink the other night, but was unsuccessful. My only real problem with them being in the bathroom is their potential occupation of the toilet seat. Ensuring that my puppy is not going to pee all over the house (which he somehow still accomplishes some nights) I also find it is also good for the health of my bladder.
One of the first couple of nights I lived here I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night and noticed movement under the toilet seat. I should have ignored my curiosity and endured the urge, but instead lifted the toilet seat to find like three cockroaches crawling around. GROSS. Since then I’ve had this fear that they’re there every time I go to sit down. Also doesn’t help that I don’t have electricity in my bathroom and therefore have to rely on a headlamp to light the room.
Remember, as a kid where you just have unfounded fears of certain things? Monsters under the bed, wolves in the backyard at night (that was me) or possibly creepy creatures crawling out of the toilet bowl? No? No one? I remember a classmate supposedly “read” in the newspaper (keep in mind I was probably in third grade when this happened) that a baby alligator was living in a family’s toilet and they discovered its residence in their bathroom when it viciously bit the father during a prolonged bathroom visit. For a while after I heard this story I was a little freaked out that we had a baby alligator too. I remember trying to find the most effective I’m-ready-to-flee position, all the while momentarily checking that nothing had climbed out of the plumbing.
With time and maturity I think I eventually got over the fear, but now I feel like a little kid again. I routinely clean my bathroom to keep it from being gross and therefore desirable place for cockroaches to live. Even though I doubt they’re still wandering around my toilet bowl I cannot help but have a little bit of anxiety each time I go in there in the middle of the night. I think the kid inside me is somewhat triumphant that one of those “unfounded fears” has somewhat been fulfilled.
At any rate, I now consider myself to have timeshare with cockroaches. I am the daytime inhabitant and they are permitted limited roaming in the night time. One creature that has been denied a timeshare was the creepy little creature I encountered in my bed last night. I was putting some clothes away and saw something dart under the sheet; “Aww HELL NO!”
Outside: perfect.
On the floor, in my house: permissible.
Under the toilet seat: depends on your biting capabilities.
In my bed: not in your life!
Not only was this THING in my bed, but it was one funky looking bug. It almost looked what I would imagine a baby scorpion to look like. It was about half an inch long and had what appeared to be underdeveloped claws. The thorax was kind of like a bee with striped black and orange. It took me forever to get it onto a tissue and I promptly tossed it out the window. I then had to empty my entire bed to ensure that its brothers and sisters weren’t crawling around in my sheets still.
So this is the agreement I’ve struck with the bugs here in Honduras and with Honduras itself. There are certain parts of Honduras and its culture that I will politely tolerate and other things that I just can’t bring myself to accept. For instance, they are building a warehouse in front of my house. I now have about 15 Honduran men outside my home from 6:30 am to about 4:00 pm, unless they decide to hang out on the steps and drink soda (at least it’s not alcohol). After the first week of “Hello amor!” every time I passed, we have now gotten it down to “Hello!” Granted I can still hear them say, “Here she comes!” or “She’s going to take me to the States!” but I appreciated the effort at discretion. I think they realized I ignored them more when they harassed me than when they were more polite.
SIDENOTE: I just had to chase a vulture away from drinking out of my pila. I wash my clothes with that water! UNACCEPTABLE. No timeshare there either!
Anyways, there’s a little boy (like 12 years old) that continuously harasses me. I mean, every time I pass I hear, “TSSSST TSST TSSST!” Do this out loud. Go ahead, do it. Have a friend do it. Now imagine some prepubescent little boy doing this multiple times as day TO HIT ON YOU! How annoying is that?? It’s supposed to be a compliment, but to me it’s more like nails on a chalkboard. Plus, after the first couple of times I get the point and don’t feel as though it’s necessary for this to occur every time I pass!
I have now taken to just mumbling like a crazy woman when I walk by, “:mumble: how OLD are you?? :mumble mumble:”
“I’m old enough to be your mother! … Hannah, that’s a long shot. I mean, you would have had to be sexually active at a pretty early age …” At this point I realize people are staring at me, not in the “There’s the white girl!” way, but the, “Hey look … the white girl is talking to herself, weird.” sort of way.
On less tolerant days, “F******* OFF!” Being in Honduras has encouraged my swearing because there’s this assumption that people can’t understand that you’re saying…
A) Hondurans watch enough movies that they might recognize the majority of the words
B) The general sentiment of swearing is generally understood (like when my electricity went out and I used every curse word to express my frustration. My neighbor who yelled, “Hey!” probably understood more or less that these were bad words.
I’ve been trying to make more of an effort, but with this kid I just can’t help myself. That’s my least favorite form of pirropos (cat-calling), the “TSSST TSSST!” Little creeper. Maybe if he thinks I’m crazy he won’t bother me so much.
This was meant to be a short little blog about bugs and turned into a freaking novel. I’m sitting outside, letting the puppy dig up more trash in my backyard and enjoying my new battery life, and it’s so beautiful out that I just kept writing. Also, I think I was in the mood to write a blog, which is good because they’re usually more interesting that way. I should probably do laundry, sweep my floors or start this terrifying design. Probably won’t. Probably will go and watch more Sex and the City and then take a nap. I love being a free agent!
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Best Weekend Ever!
I don’t know if anyone noticed that I was lacking a major appliance in my kitchen … a refrigerator. I had been moderately harassing my office to take me to buy one, but there was always an excuse and I never ended up going. Well, I finally got serious about it last week and got on them about taking me. I almost went on Thursday, but last minute they didn’t have room in the bed of the pick-up and I got put off another day.
Well the director must have felt pretty bad, because Friday he had someone make a special trip for me, which is a pretty big deal because that’s gas they probably shouldn’t have “wasted.” I don’t see it as a waste, but they could have coordinated better because cars go to Santa Rosa every week. I really appreciated it though, because it really was a big gesture.
Well the entire ride to Santa Rosa I was like a child on the way to an amusement park. Every five minutes I would clap my hands and say, “Voy a comprar un refri!!”/ “I’m going to buy a fridge!” Well we get into the store and the fridge I had looked at (weeks ago) was naturally gone. The remaining ones were more expensive, but not too much and I was so ready to be able to buy milk and other lovely foods that require refrigeration. I was lucky Humberto was there, because he actually thought to ask about warranties and the like. I mean, I might have thought of that eventually, but then there’s the whole obstacle of trying to figure out how to express “warranty,” because I didn’t know the word. Anyways, paid up, which was painful, because that is by far the most money I’ve spent on a single object in Honduras. They hauled the fridge to the car and we were off! Fastest trip I’ve had to Santa Rosa, which was sad because I wanted to hang out and had more things to buy! Hah.
They secured the fridge in the bed of the pick-up and we were off to drive the windy, dangerous, pot-hole ridden highway back to Corquin. I was really nervous on the way back, because Humberto is an aggressive driver and at one point we almost had a head-on with an 18 wheeler. My friend Plankster (nickname) was visiting for the weekend and was in the car too. I squealed and covered my eyes with hands, which seemed to have been entertaining for them. I was more concerned for the safety of my fridge, but what good is a fridge if I’m not alive to use it?!
Well we’re halfway there and we start to slow down. What’s going on? Why are we stopping? Well one of the policemen (off-duty) had gotten a flat tire on his motorcycle and Humberto, being the kindly man that he is, stopped to give him a lift. Oh wait, not just the man, BUT THE MOTORCYLCE TOO! I started freaking and sent Plankster to supervise the fastening the motorcycle in the back as well.
Honduras + pick-up + new fridge + motorcycle = Hannah is a HOT MESS
Plankster assured me that everything was secure and we returned to Corquin with the fridge and motorcylce intact. The rest of the way back Humberto kept kidding around, “Hannah you fridge is still there. Yup, still there.”
So the fridge gets placed in its new home and I had to use all my self-restraint to keep from plugging it in; you are supposed to wait 4 hours after transporting it, which was torture for me. I waited though and now I have ice and once I buy a pitcher I will have cold water too! It’s kind of sad because I got a little fridge that you would find in dorm rooms, but this one has a separate freezer. The fridge is so small and I will still never be able to fill it. :SIGH:
That was the first great thing about this weekend. Second great thing was Plankster visiting. I love having company now and enjoying other people being around. I’d like to think I’m improving my hostess skills too. It was nice to see him, as always, but what was really great was he was totally in the mood to help me fix up my house. We went to the ferreteria (hardware store) on Saturday morning and bought paint for my living room, wire to make a run for Bourbon, and rope to string up a hammock.
Plankster has bought three hammocks and the third he had with him here in Corquin. He bought it to send back to the States when his parents visit in January and he is an amazing person! and lent me the hammock until then!
We painted my living room (I am posting pictures) yellow and beige. I actually don’t like the color combination, but I had leftover paint from the kitchen and I figured out I didn’t like it a little late. So, unfortunately that’s something I have to live with for now, but it’s not terrible.
Then we hung the hammock, so I have a nice hammock on my back porch to lie in and read. I really hope the puppy doesn’t chew it to death because it’s not exactly mine…
Lastly, we hung the cable for Bourbon to run around on. It goes back into my yard a little bit so I can leave him outside during the day and he can be happy there instead of cooped up in the house. Also, maybe now he won’t escape from his room and chew my shower shoes and my purse! Yes, that was a lovely surprise on Friday. I entire the house and see the victims, lying on the floor and Bourbon is at the door to greet me, which he wouldn’t be able to do if he was safely locked in his room. I yell, “Oh God! I can’t look!”
“Is that my purse?!” I squeal as I wander farther into the house to check out the damage. I can’t imagine what people were thinking as they hear the gringa yelling and swearing in her house. My neighbors must think I torture my dog because he howls all the time and all they probably hear me say is, “NO!” Luckily, he just chewed the flower on the purse, which doesn’t really look any different. The shower shoes were the only things majorly damaged and he’d already gotten to them.
So my house is finally really coming together. Amazing what a difference the paint made and I don’t even like it that much! The house just doesn’t look as old. Then today I went to Kristy’s house to pick up some stuff. She just finished her service and is back in the States (Congrats!) and left some stuff for me and my sitemate. The weekend got even better, because now I have a rug, speakers and a blender to make licuados!
I’m just so happy and content. Also, Plankster and I made chocolate chip pancakes this morning, which really just improved the entire day as well. Great weekend! Next I need to tackle painting the bedroom!
Pictures have been posted so take a look at them!
Well the director must have felt pretty bad, because Friday he had someone make a special trip for me, which is a pretty big deal because that’s gas they probably shouldn’t have “wasted.” I don’t see it as a waste, but they could have coordinated better because cars go to Santa Rosa every week. I really appreciated it though, because it really was a big gesture.
Well the entire ride to Santa Rosa I was like a child on the way to an amusement park. Every five minutes I would clap my hands and say, “Voy a comprar un refri!!”/ “I’m going to buy a fridge!” Well we get into the store and the fridge I had looked at (weeks ago) was naturally gone. The remaining ones were more expensive, but not too much and I was so ready to be able to buy milk and other lovely foods that require refrigeration. I was lucky Humberto was there, because he actually thought to ask about warranties and the like. I mean, I might have thought of that eventually, but then there’s the whole obstacle of trying to figure out how to express “warranty,” because I didn’t know the word. Anyways, paid up, which was painful, because that is by far the most money I’ve spent on a single object in Honduras. They hauled the fridge to the car and we were off! Fastest trip I’ve had to Santa Rosa, which was sad because I wanted to hang out and had more things to buy! Hah.
They secured the fridge in the bed of the pick-up and we were off to drive the windy, dangerous, pot-hole ridden highway back to Corquin. I was really nervous on the way back, because Humberto is an aggressive driver and at one point we almost had a head-on with an 18 wheeler. My friend Plankster (nickname) was visiting for the weekend and was in the car too. I squealed and covered my eyes with hands, which seemed to have been entertaining for them. I was more concerned for the safety of my fridge, but what good is a fridge if I’m not alive to use it?!
Well we’re halfway there and we start to slow down. What’s going on? Why are we stopping? Well one of the policemen (off-duty) had gotten a flat tire on his motorcycle and Humberto, being the kindly man that he is, stopped to give him a lift. Oh wait, not just the man, BUT THE MOTORCYLCE TOO! I started freaking and sent Plankster to supervise the fastening the motorcycle in the back as well.
Honduras + pick-up + new fridge + motorcycle = Hannah is a HOT MESS
Plankster assured me that everything was secure and we returned to Corquin with the fridge and motorcylce intact. The rest of the way back Humberto kept kidding around, “Hannah you fridge is still there. Yup, still there.”
So the fridge gets placed in its new home and I had to use all my self-restraint to keep from plugging it in; you are supposed to wait 4 hours after transporting it, which was torture for me. I waited though and now I have ice and once I buy a pitcher I will have cold water too! It’s kind of sad because I got a little fridge that you would find in dorm rooms, but this one has a separate freezer. The fridge is so small and I will still never be able to fill it. :SIGH:
That was the first great thing about this weekend. Second great thing was Plankster visiting. I love having company now and enjoying other people being around. I’d like to think I’m improving my hostess skills too. It was nice to see him, as always, but what was really great was he was totally in the mood to help me fix up my house. We went to the ferreteria (hardware store) on Saturday morning and bought paint for my living room, wire to make a run for Bourbon, and rope to string up a hammock.
Plankster has bought three hammocks and the third he had with him here in Corquin. He bought it to send back to the States when his parents visit in January and he is an amazing person! and lent me the hammock until then!
We painted my living room (I am posting pictures) yellow and beige. I actually don’t like the color combination, but I had leftover paint from the kitchen and I figured out I didn’t like it a little late. So, unfortunately that’s something I have to live with for now, but it’s not terrible.
Then we hung the hammock, so I have a nice hammock on my back porch to lie in and read. I really hope the puppy doesn’t chew it to death because it’s not exactly mine…
Lastly, we hung the cable for Bourbon to run around on. It goes back into my yard a little bit so I can leave him outside during the day and he can be happy there instead of cooped up in the house. Also, maybe now he won’t escape from his room and chew my shower shoes and my purse! Yes, that was a lovely surprise on Friday. I entire the house and see the victims, lying on the floor and Bourbon is at the door to greet me, which he wouldn’t be able to do if he was safely locked in his room. I yell, “Oh God! I can’t look!”
“Is that my purse?!” I squeal as I wander farther into the house to check out the damage. I can’t imagine what people were thinking as they hear the gringa yelling and swearing in her house. My neighbors must think I torture my dog because he howls all the time and all they probably hear me say is, “NO!” Luckily, he just chewed the flower on the purse, which doesn’t really look any different. The shower shoes were the only things majorly damaged and he’d already gotten to them.
So my house is finally really coming together. Amazing what a difference the paint made and I don’t even like it that much! The house just doesn’t look as old. Then today I went to Kristy’s house to pick up some stuff. She just finished her service and is back in the States (Congrats!) and left some stuff for me and my sitemate. The weekend got even better, because now I have a rug, speakers and a blender to make licuados!
I’m just so happy and content. Also, Plankster and I made chocolate chip pancakes this morning, which really just improved the entire day as well. Great weekend! Next I need to tackle painting the bedroom!
Pictures have been posted so take a look at them!
Weird Single Habits
That’s actually something I remember from a Sex and the City episode, but it’s something I was just thinking about as I was sitting here watching a movie and eating dinner.
I’m sitting here in my house because I can’t leave for the national curfew that’s in place. I guess before it wasn’t so annoying because I lived in a house with other people and the curfews didn’t seem to last for so long. This curfew started yesterday (Monday) at 4p.m. and supposedly is going to last until 6 a.m. Wednesday.
With the last curfew no one really seemed to abide by it. I’ve heard only recently that the old sergeant of the police (apparently he has left) actually did arrest people when they were outside during the toque de queda (curfew). The last curfew definitely would have interfered with working and such, but I never really remember people actually abiding by it.
This time, however, people seem to actually be following the national curfew. I don’t know if the new sergeant somehow impressed upon the people how serious he would be with curfews or, although, no one really expected this. I don’t know if people are ready to take advantage of this unscheduled say off or what, but all of the sudden the streets are deserted.
I had told my Educatodos students that we would still have class, thinking that the curfew was ending at 6 p.m. Well, then we got word from Peace Corps that the curfew was extended until 6 a.m., which means I really shouldn’t have left my house. Imagine, if the police had arrested me, I would have been kicked out purely because I didn’t listen to the national curfew or Peace Corps’ rules. Anyways, despite this I wandered up to the classes, because I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. On my way up the police passed and I got pretty nervous, but they continued on their merry way. Of course, I got to the classroom and no one was there, so I just turned around and went home. At least the puppy got a walk out of it.
On the walk home I really didn’t want to return to the house and sit there anymore, so I loitered outside on the stairs and let the puppy nose around some more. Two girls came up and started talking to me, which was nice until I realized that the one seemed to be trying to coax money or something out of me. I mean, she kept talking about how her mom kicked her out and she didn’t have any clothes or family. I felt bad, but what was I going to do? It was awkward.
Anyways, the whole point of this rant was to comment on the weird things that happen when you live alone. The puppy was exhausted, so he went straight to bed after I fed him.
I really love frijoles fritos (essentially refried beans) and had started soaking beans earlier in the day with the assumption that they would become part of dinner, which I hadn’t really done much planning for other than the bean soaking part. I had had tuna fish for lunch and still wasn’t very hungry, but without a fridge I couldn’t let the tuna fish sit overnight. As a result, I convinced myself that I had to eat. Now, instead of eating just the tuna fish, I naturally had to finish cooking the beans to accompany the tuna fish. Odd combination you say? Yes, well you get creative when you’re bored and no fridge leads to interesting food combinations.
So I finally finish the beans at which point I realized I had never really made them before. When in doubt and trying to recreate Honduran cooking just add a lot of oil and salt. In any case, I had refried beans and tuna fish for dinner. It wasn’t all that bad, but I really would like it if I could manage to get a ride to buy a fridge. There’s only so much oatmeal and cooked veggie combinations you can eat before you really wish that you could at least buy milk for the oatmeal or coconut milk to make curry. In any case, that is one sample of the odd things you are able to do when you live alone. The dog eats burned plastic and wood, so who is he to judge??
I, of course, have odder eating habits that I am not at liberty to disclose in such a public forum, but they may include a spoon and a jar of peanut butter … Hey! Don’t judge! You don’t know what it’s like!!
Maybe tomorrow I’ll just go to my host family’s house to get fed some real food.
Just got word from Peace Corps that the curfew has been extended until 6 p.m. tomorrow night! Now ODECO won’t be open (the police called them and told them to stay closed in the afternoon today!) I’m going to go crazy!! There’s only so many times you can watch the same 5 movies and episodes of Friends before you feel as though you’re lacking something in life … for instance variety. I’m reading a good book right now entitled The Omnivore’s Dilemma, but that of course is about food and merely rubs in the fact that I’m not eating anything all that interesting at the moment!
I’m sitting here in my house because I can’t leave for the national curfew that’s in place. I guess before it wasn’t so annoying because I lived in a house with other people and the curfews didn’t seem to last for so long. This curfew started yesterday (Monday) at 4p.m. and supposedly is going to last until 6 a.m. Wednesday.
With the last curfew no one really seemed to abide by it. I’ve heard only recently that the old sergeant of the police (apparently he has left) actually did arrest people when they were outside during the toque de queda (curfew). The last curfew definitely would have interfered with working and such, but I never really remember people actually abiding by it.
This time, however, people seem to actually be following the national curfew. I don’t know if the new sergeant somehow impressed upon the people how serious he would be with curfews or, although, no one really expected this. I don’t know if people are ready to take advantage of this unscheduled say off or what, but all of the sudden the streets are deserted.
I had told my Educatodos students that we would still have class, thinking that the curfew was ending at 6 p.m. Well, then we got word from Peace Corps that the curfew was extended until 6 a.m., which means I really shouldn’t have left my house. Imagine, if the police had arrested me, I would have been kicked out purely because I didn’t listen to the national curfew or Peace Corps’ rules. Anyways, despite this I wandered up to the classes, because I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. On my way up the police passed and I got pretty nervous, but they continued on their merry way. Of course, I got to the classroom and no one was there, so I just turned around and went home. At least the puppy got a walk out of it.
On the walk home I really didn’t want to return to the house and sit there anymore, so I loitered outside on the stairs and let the puppy nose around some more. Two girls came up and started talking to me, which was nice until I realized that the one seemed to be trying to coax money or something out of me. I mean, she kept talking about how her mom kicked her out and she didn’t have any clothes or family. I felt bad, but what was I going to do? It was awkward.
Anyways, the whole point of this rant was to comment on the weird things that happen when you live alone. The puppy was exhausted, so he went straight to bed after I fed him.
I really love frijoles fritos (essentially refried beans) and had started soaking beans earlier in the day with the assumption that they would become part of dinner, which I hadn’t really done much planning for other than the bean soaking part. I had had tuna fish for lunch and still wasn’t very hungry, but without a fridge I couldn’t let the tuna fish sit overnight. As a result, I convinced myself that I had to eat. Now, instead of eating just the tuna fish, I naturally had to finish cooking the beans to accompany the tuna fish. Odd combination you say? Yes, well you get creative when you’re bored and no fridge leads to interesting food combinations.
So I finally finish the beans at which point I realized I had never really made them before. When in doubt and trying to recreate Honduran cooking just add a lot of oil and salt. In any case, I had refried beans and tuna fish for dinner. It wasn’t all that bad, but I really would like it if I could manage to get a ride to buy a fridge. There’s only so much oatmeal and cooked veggie combinations you can eat before you really wish that you could at least buy milk for the oatmeal or coconut milk to make curry. In any case, that is one sample of the odd things you are able to do when you live alone. The dog eats burned plastic and wood, so who is he to judge??
I, of course, have odder eating habits that I am not at liberty to disclose in such a public forum, but they may include a spoon and a jar of peanut butter … Hey! Don’t judge! You don’t know what it’s like!!
Maybe tomorrow I’ll just go to my host family’s house to get fed some real food.
Just got word from Peace Corps that the curfew has been extended until 6 p.m. tomorrow night! Now ODECO won’t be open (the police called them and told them to stay closed in the afternoon today!) I’m going to go crazy!! There’s only so many times you can watch the same 5 movies and episodes of Friends before you feel as though you’re lacking something in life … for instance variety. I’m reading a good book right now entitled The Omnivore’s Dilemma, but that of course is about food and merely rubs in the fact that I’m not eating anything all that interesting at the moment!
Monday, September 21, 2009
Independence, Puppies and Moscos
I realize that I owe you all a more entertaining, funny blog than I have been delivering recently. The events of the past couple of weeks have been anything but funny, but they can be spun into funny experiences for the entertainment of friends and family.
Having talked to a few of you I think people sensed a bit of depression in my last blog email, which was very perceptive and most certainly the case. I have since recovered and am doing fine, but had a couple of weeks where I was really anxious and struggling with well ... life.
Anyways, on a lighter note, Kathryn came to visit for a few days and we started my first study here in my area! Kathryn came down for Honduran Dia de Independencia, where we relaxed in my backyard with a few beers, catching up. We were supposed to go on a hike, but we didn't quite make it and decided to celebrate their independence day with our own traditions, because as Kathryn said, "They took ours from us!" She's referring to the fact that 4th of July was during the golpe de estado and we weren't allowed to leave our sites, which resulted in some bum parties.
Anyways, so the next morning we woke-up and hauled Carl (theodolite) and equipo del diablo (tripod named "Equipment of the Devil") up to Joconales. Joconales is the community I found when I randomly went out with an ODECO technician all that time back. We started at their water source and I've never seen so many mosquitoes in my life. I am now a master at killing then, because they seem to not mind insect repellent! Bugs in Honduras are on steroids! Massive mosquitoes, huge cockroaches and the flat spider in my bathroom is like nothing I've ever seen before. I'm suspicious and haven't killed him because I don't want his bigger family member to stalk me in my bed at night.
We had a much easier go of it this time with the equipment because we are finally familiar with Carl and figured out the trick of the WHITE TRIANGLE!
When I went to help Kathryn on her study we spent HOURS trying to find the estadia (measures distance) and the back shot (reference point) in all the coffee trees. It was so hard to figure out exactly which leaf was the one that was closest to our equipment! GAAH But this lovely white triangle, which I love so much because it has made my life easier and I want to get it tattooed on me (just kidding), is so helpful in finding people that now it takes mere seconds! The joy!
My study is a lot easier because we aren't going through coffee and there's a third of the houses, but alas there are MILLIONS of bugs! We are familiar with the equipment, but spent so much time fighting of blood-sucking buggers that we were still kind of slow!
First, there were the mosquitoes that ate us while we were in the jungle and the entire time the guys helping us were like, "Don't worry! Once we leave the trees there won't be anymore bugs..." But then!, once we got closer to the field we had to pass through, they started changing their tune! Suddenly, it became, "You think the mosquitoes are bad?? Wait for the moscos!"
Now, imagine gnats in all their abundance and annoying-ness, but also the ability to draw blood... Yes, these are moscos and APPARENTLY! Joconales has a "plague" of moscos at the moment!
Kathryn was practically in tears it was so painful when they bite and we got so many bites. She reacted particularly strongly and had to try really hard to keep it together. By the end of the study we were both in a foul mood and itching like you couldn't believe. Not to mention, Hondurans love to point out the obvious! When we finished for the day and got back to Don Manuel's house (he's been spearheading this with me) everyone felt the need to chide us on our arms and tell us that we really should have worn long sleeves. Like I hadn't noticed that I spent 7 hours getting eaten alive and my arms look like crap!?
As a result of the terrible bites, we went and made chocolate-chip waffles (I have a waffle-maker!) to make us feel better. By the evening our arms were swollen and really achy, which was kind of scary because apparently these bugs can give you a fever too. I feel like Peace Corps Honduras could make everyone a hypochondriac because you're constantly assuming the worse will come out of the weird encounters you have with nature here. Kathryn kept muttering, "It can't be good getting that many bites! I mean, they have to be carrying like a million diseases!"
The next day was really fun, because it was our first Dia de Campo. Dia de Campo is a series of events that are held on farms that are working with ODECO. They're encouraging farmers to plant more crops and raise more animals for subsistence farming; coffee is the cash crop, but they're now growing fruits and vegetables to feed their families. At each of these events there are stations about different themes like: chickens, planning your farm/family, sanitation (ME!) and soil conservation. Each event will have different themes for the community and the people attending.
It's actually a lot of fun, because you're interacting with the people and co-workers and there's a lot of REALLY GOOD FOOD! First, we start off with coffee and bread (my favorited) at like 10 am. Then! we had Sopa de Gallina at noon for lunch. Sopa de Gallina is a delicacy here, which is basically soup with roasted chicken, but it's oh so delicious! And then, of course, we have to close the day with more coffee and bread.
Anyways, so Kathryn and I did a sanitation charla to 5 groups of campesinos for 30 minutes each. It got really boring, but at least each group had different questions and we kind of branched into new topics with each new question. Each department (like districts in the States) has a health technician. The one for San Pedro de Copan came and "helped us," which was essentially him speaking 3/4 of the time and KatP and I the rest, but that's ok because it was his job and he covered a lot of stuff we hadn't even thought about.
All in all, a good day, even though I wanted to cry my arms were so swollen and achy. Again, people made sure I was aware that it looked like I had chicken pocks, but oh well...
Second day on the study was uneventful; we wore long sleeves so our arms were somewhat protected. They ended up attacking my hands, but I could deal with that. We still didn't finish, but we're close and I'm going to get the equipment when Kathryn is on vacation the last week in September.
Well, that wasn't as interesting/funny as I had thought. Damn. Well, at least you can imagine me and Kathryn swatting at all these little moscos as we try to level the damn tripod. That thing is the devil, I swear! You screw in one leg and move to another and the leg you thought you just secured suddenly moves, which throws your bubble all out of whack! Then you swear and then the campesinos kind of get quiet. At one point Kathryn yelled, "GET THE F**** AWAY FROM ME!" to the moscos. I got so embarrassed and said, "Kathryn, they might not understand exactly what you're saying, but your tone still makes it pretty obvious..." At least she laughed at that.
I will say that Bourbon is the new celebrity in town. On Saturday as we waited for the bus I had about 7 Honduran men surrounding me, asking about my dog. They're lecturing me on how to take care of him, which I kind of responded with, "I will take better care of my dog than you could possibly IMAGINE!" but I figured that was rude.
People have offered to buy my dog and even asked if I will "gift" him to them. This is part of Honduran culture: they have no shame asking you to "gift" them things, which I find hilarious! One of the guys I work with insists that the leave the puppy behind so he has a reminder of me! HAH in your dreams! This is a good little puppy and he's coming with me! If it's going to be so hard to train him, he's definitely going to accompany me to the States.
Other than that, there's not too much going on. Got work. Got a puppy. Pretty content now!
Take care all! Pictures to come!
Having talked to a few of you I think people sensed a bit of depression in my last blog email, which was very perceptive and most certainly the case. I have since recovered and am doing fine, but had a couple of weeks where I was really anxious and struggling with well ... life.
Anyways, on a lighter note, Kathryn came to visit for a few days and we started my first study here in my area! Kathryn came down for Honduran Dia de Independencia, where we relaxed in my backyard with a few beers, catching up. We were supposed to go on a hike, but we didn't quite make it and decided to celebrate their independence day with our own traditions, because as Kathryn said, "They took ours from us!" She's referring to the fact that 4th of July was during the golpe de estado and we weren't allowed to leave our sites, which resulted in some bum parties.
Anyways, so the next morning we woke-up and hauled Carl (theodolite) and equipo del diablo (tripod named "Equipment of the Devil") up to Joconales. Joconales is the community I found when I randomly went out with an ODECO technician all that time back. We started at their water source and I've never seen so many mosquitoes in my life. I am now a master at killing then, because they seem to not mind insect repellent! Bugs in Honduras are on steroids! Massive mosquitoes, huge cockroaches and the flat spider in my bathroom is like nothing I've ever seen before. I'm suspicious and haven't killed him because I don't want his bigger family member to stalk me in my bed at night.
We had a much easier go of it this time with the equipment because we are finally familiar with Carl and figured out the trick of the WHITE TRIANGLE!
When I went to help Kathryn on her study we spent HOURS trying to find the estadia (measures distance) and the back shot (reference point) in all the coffee trees. It was so hard to figure out exactly which leaf was the one that was closest to our equipment! GAAH But this lovely white triangle, which I love so much because it has made my life easier and I want to get it tattooed on me (just kidding), is so helpful in finding people that now it takes mere seconds! The joy!
My study is a lot easier because we aren't going through coffee and there's a third of the houses, but alas there are MILLIONS of bugs! We are familiar with the equipment, but spent so much time fighting of blood-sucking buggers that we were still kind of slow!
First, there were the mosquitoes that ate us while we were in the jungle and the entire time the guys helping us were like, "Don't worry! Once we leave the trees there won't be anymore bugs..." But then!, once we got closer to the field we had to pass through, they started changing their tune! Suddenly, it became, "You think the mosquitoes are bad?? Wait for the moscos!"
Now, imagine gnats in all their abundance and annoying-ness, but also the ability to draw blood... Yes, these are moscos and APPARENTLY! Joconales has a "plague" of moscos at the moment!
Kathryn was practically in tears it was so painful when they bite and we got so many bites. She reacted particularly strongly and had to try really hard to keep it together. By the end of the study we were both in a foul mood and itching like you couldn't believe. Not to mention, Hondurans love to point out the obvious! When we finished for the day and got back to Don Manuel's house (he's been spearheading this with me) everyone felt the need to chide us on our arms and tell us that we really should have worn long sleeves. Like I hadn't noticed that I spent 7 hours getting eaten alive and my arms look like crap!?
As a result of the terrible bites, we went and made chocolate-chip waffles (I have a waffle-maker!) to make us feel better. By the evening our arms were swollen and really achy, which was kind of scary because apparently these bugs can give you a fever too. I feel like Peace Corps Honduras could make everyone a hypochondriac because you're constantly assuming the worse will come out of the weird encounters you have with nature here. Kathryn kept muttering, "It can't be good getting that many bites! I mean, they have to be carrying like a million diseases!"
The next day was really fun, because it was our first Dia de Campo. Dia de Campo is a series of events that are held on farms that are working with ODECO. They're encouraging farmers to plant more crops and raise more animals for subsistence farming; coffee is the cash crop, but they're now growing fruits and vegetables to feed their families. At each of these events there are stations about different themes like: chickens, planning your farm/family, sanitation (ME!) and soil conservation. Each event will have different themes for the community and the people attending.
It's actually a lot of fun, because you're interacting with the people and co-workers and there's a lot of REALLY GOOD FOOD! First, we start off with coffee and bread (my favorited) at like 10 am. Then! we had Sopa de Gallina at noon for lunch. Sopa de Gallina is a delicacy here, which is basically soup with roasted chicken, but it's oh so delicious! And then, of course, we have to close the day with more coffee and bread.
Anyways, so Kathryn and I did a sanitation charla to 5 groups of campesinos for 30 minutes each. It got really boring, but at least each group had different questions and we kind of branched into new topics with each new question. Each department (like districts in the States) has a health technician. The one for San Pedro de Copan came and "helped us," which was essentially him speaking 3/4 of the time and KatP and I the rest, but that's ok because it was his job and he covered a lot of stuff we hadn't even thought about.
All in all, a good day, even though I wanted to cry my arms were so swollen and achy. Again, people made sure I was aware that it looked like I had chicken pocks, but oh well...
Second day on the study was uneventful; we wore long sleeves so our arms were somewhat protected. They ended up attacking my hands, but I could deal with that. We still didn't finish, but we're close and I'm going to get the equipment when Kathryn is on vacation the last week in September.
Well, that wasn't as interesting/funny as I had thought. Damn. Well, at least you can imagine me and Kathryn swatting at all these little moscos as we try to level the damn tripod. That thing is the devil, I swear! You screw in one leg and move to another and the leg you thought you just secured suddenly moves, which throws your bubble all out of whack! Then you swear and then the campesinos kind of get quiet. At one point Kathryn yelled, "GET THE F**** AWAY FROM ME!" to the moscos. I got so embarrassed and said, "Kathryn, they might not understand exactly what you're saying, but your tone still makes it pretty obvious..." At least she laughed at that.
I will say that Bourbon is the new celebrity in town. On Saturday as we waited for the bus I had about 7 Honduran men surrounding me, asking about my dog. They're lecturing me on how to take care of him, which I kind of responded with, "I will take better care of my dog than you could possibly IMAGINE!" but I figured that was rude.
People have offered to buy my dog and even asked if I will "gift" him to them. This is part of Honduran culture: they have no shame asking you to "gift" them things, which I find hilarious! One of the guys I work with insists that the leave the puppy behind so he has a reminder of me! HAH in your dreams! This is a good little puppy and he's coming with me! If it's going to be so hard to train him, he's definitely going to accompany me to the States.
Other than that, there's not too much going on. Got work. Got a puppy. Pretty content now!
Take care all! Pictures to come!
Monday, September 14, 2009
“It’s like trying to make pumpkin pie out of cow shit …”
This was the best quote from reconnect. I forget what exactly it was in reference to, but I think the speaker intended it to more or less summarize the Peace Corps experience. What can I say, some people (sometimes we) are cynical! We had a “constructive criticism,” which essentially allowed for all the jaded folks to unleash their disappointment with Peace Corps.
Other than that, reconnect was great. It was great to see all my friends again and meet the H12ers. I think reconnect mainly serves as a morale booster, but I learned a few things as well. It was unfortunate, because our last day the power was out until about 5:30 so we couldn’t do all the training sessions that required computers or projectors. These sessions happened to be the ones I was the most interested in!
It essentially was four days where Volunteers could catch up and get rowdy together, but we talked work too. It was absolutely exhausting, especially after the previous weekend with Noche de Fumadores, but well worth the trip. Not too much to talk about!
---
Probably what I’m more concerned about mentioning is the arrival of a permanent visitor in my home … my puppy! After reconnect I went to Andrea’s house and met the remaining puppies. They were so cute! I wanted to take them all home, but this guy will be a handful as it is; HE IS SO HUGE! He’s only two months old and is about the size of an older, 4 month-old puppy. He also has HUGE paws, which I imagine indicate that he will also become a big dog.
After being bombarded by puppy love, I got some one-on-one time with Sapo, which was his name given by Andrea; means toad/frog. I actually really liked that name, but Hondurans DESPISE frogs and I knew they would really not like his name. Actually, they still don’t like Bourbon because they can’t pronounce it. Now, his Spanish name (Hondurans always want to know how names translate and don’t understand when I tell them they don’t normally …) is Toby; that’s a common Honduran dog name and easy for them to say. Anyways, he really could have cared less about my existence and I kind of got sad, thinking that he didn’t like me or something. Little did I know there would be plenty of time to bond in the next two days!
We picked up Bourbon and went to my friend’s house, where a bunch of people were staying for the despedida (going-away party) for a guy in the area. One of the girls in Santa Barbara has Bourbon’s sister and they were playing all day, which was great because I feel like it eased his transition a little bit. They were pretty rough and Lady (the female dog) was dominating Bourbon, but everyone had fun with the two not-so-little puppies in the house … Well, apart from Lady having a fondness of attacking men’s nether regions and Bourbon not yet understanding the concept of not peeing on people’s sleeping mats.
We all hung out there for the night and had a couple of beers to congratulate T on the completion of his service. It was a nice break after reconnect and get used to Bourbon before we continued on to my site. The entire time I was mildly fretting about the 5 hour journey that we had ahead of us …
Two weeks ago Andrea made little traveling boxes for all the puppies. Key words: TWO WEEKS AGO. The little buggers had grown so much that he barely fit in the box and could easily stick his head out the top. He was really good on the way into the city because that was the first time he was out of the house and I think he was majorly overwhelmed.
Well, let’s just say that the next day on the way to the bus stop he was not as well behaved. On the walk down to the bus-stop he was squirming to get out. Not to mention the pitiful crying that he seems to have adopted as a major method of announcing his disapproval of any and all situations.
Anyways, we were waiting in the bus stop for quite a while and he kept crying, wanting to get out of the box. I let him out for a while, because it was really hot, and when the bus finally came I had him securely bundled inside, because bus drivers (especially on the fancy buses like the one we took) aren’t too fond of animals on the buses.
Well, I’m climbing on the bus with the box in my hand and the bus driver says, “Que tiene?” / “What do you have (in there)?”
I couldn’t lie … :sheepishly: … “A puppy…”
“No, dogs aren’t allowed. They’re prohibited.”
“Please.” And Hannah just walks by with the box. Just. Walks. By!
I had just spent a week with a whole bunch of Americans and the extent of my desire to speak Spanish was minimal and I didn’t want to argue with the guy. The bus was pretty full, so I didn’t get very far, and as we drove away I heard the bus driver bitching about how dogs weren’t allowed. As they were discussing the presence of a dog (IN A BOX!) on their bus, a few people around me noticed him (by now he had thrust his head out) and were commenting on how cute he was. A woman sitting in the very first seat told me to put the box at her feet, because they would kick me off if I kept the box in the aisle. After the discussion up front became more heated, I decided to take her up on her offer, and put Bourbon in her seat. He struggled to get out because he was so hot, but we had to keep him in the box because I was hoping that the bus driver would forget and chill out! This woman was really nice! Hondurans hate dogs and this woman was a saint to let me put my dog at her feet while he’s panting and crying to get out! Poor thing, looking back I felt so bad, but at the time I was so stressed! At this point I was cursing myself and my situation because it was really too hot for him, but I couldn’t take him out.
Well it took the bus driver and his ayudante (helper) several minutes to start threatening me; it was weird, we were on the bus for quite a while before they tried to throw me off! I tried to ignore them, but it didn’t really work. Luckily, another Volunteer was with me and he helped advocate to keep the puppy upside. The ayudante wanted to put the box underneath the bus, and I was so thankful that all the people around me rallied on my behalf and battled the mean bus driver! Everyone started shouting, “It’s just a puppy and he’s in the box! He’s not bothering anyone! Plus, he’ll suffocate and get so hot down there he’ll die!!” After a while they laid off and we rode the rest of the bus ride to the stop. I will forever be grateful to those people who stuck-up with me, because if it wasn’t for them I would have just gotten off the bus and been stranded, trying to figure something else out. That experience (with the nice people) really boosted my respect for this culture, because people are quick to help you out and very accommodating and nice.
Even though the guys stopped threatening me, I was on the verge of tears the entire time. A seat finally opened up and I sat done with the box in my lap. After .2 seconds Bourbon started HOWLING and I mean HOWLING to get out of the box. I tried to keep him quiet, but he wasn’t going for it. At this point the bus driver might have forgotten he had a dog on his bus, but this definitely reminded him, and I really didn’t want to upset him anymore. T (the Volunteer) was really nice and told me not to worry about the bus guys and we should take Bourbon out and see what happens. Bourbon was really content just being out of the box and slept on T’s lap for the rest of the trip. THANK GOD!
We got off the bus and almost immediately caught another. This was a chicken bus (yellow school bus) and services local areas, so they could have cared less about a dog on their bus. They’ve probably had tons of weird animals on that bus, because for 99.9% of the population that’s their only method of transportation! I was so relieved, because that first encounter had me terrified that all the buses I had to take would be the same. Bourbon was really good and slept the entire way; he didn’t even go to the bathroom on the bus! … but then again that could have been because the bus broke down shortly after we got on!
We were on the side of the road for a while before another bus came. We tried to rush to make it, but with my big-ass suitcase and all of T’s stuff, we weren’t moving very fast; they left without us. So, I took that opportunity to walk Bourbon and luckily another bus came within a half-hour and we were off again! This ride went smoothly. T got off about 45 minutes before me and I had the rest of the ride to Santa Rosa de Copan. As if the journey wasn’t enough of a hassle, I found out I missed the last bus towards my site and the next bus that would pass about half-hour outside of it was delayed, so it would be getting dark and I didn’t feel too comfortable with that. SO! I called up my lovely friend Kathryn and she is awesome and had no problems with us crashing for the night.
It was actually a welcome stop because I was so tired and stressed it was nice to be somewhere familiar and rest before completing the trip. One of the other PCVs who lives in SRC invited us out to celebrate her boyfriend’s birthday, so we had a wonderful dinner and watched the Honduras vs. Trinidad & Tobago qualifying soccer game for the World Cup (Honduras won!).
At half-time I went to check on Bourbon and see if he had destroyed Kathryn’s apartment. He had indeed used her floor as a public bathroom, which I promptly cleaned up and then decided to take him for a walk. The entire time we were walking around the block he was crying! I think he was so scared of everything and overwhelmed that he just cried and cried. It was kind of ridiculous. So I go to leave a few minutes later and he starts HOWLING again! Like, if I’m not right by his side, he’s howling; even if he can still see me. I wanted to stay and comfort him, but they were waiting for me for dessert and I couldn’t resist … hah! I could hear him howling from about 2 blocks away.
He cried a lot in Kathryn’s place and woke her up in the morning. I’m terrible and pretty much forgot that’s how puppies are! I was mortified because I already felt like I was putting her out, but she was fine. Anyways, woke-up the next morning, jumped on the bus and got to Corquin! I lost my phone on the bus, which I noticed about 15 minutes later and ran to catch up with the bus, but it was already gone. I think the kid working the tickets took it, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I had a lot of credit on there, which was annoying, but oh well. At least we’re home and he’s settling down and seems comfortable. I’m going to go take a nap, but there will be plenty of puppy stories because HE IS SO CUTE!
Not the best blog, but it served to de-stress me at the time. I wrote it when I had just got home and served as more of a bitch session, but things are better!
Bourbon is really intelligent and I good dog. He’s calm and is just a big love-bug. I had people over to celebrate some people in my area completing their two years, and he was great with everyone and didn’t destroy anything! He loved all the people playing with him. He cries less now and is even getting pretty brave. He’s a little rough with other dogs in the beginning and definitely has some food aggression when other dogs are around. I can play with his bowl, but my friend brought his puppy and Bourbon was very aggressive when they were eating. I have to work on that with him!
So, that’s that with puppy stories for now. I have the same number, so don’t worry about that!
Other than that, reconnect was great. It was great to see all my friends again and meet the H12ers. I think reconnect mainly serves as a morale booster, but I learned a few things as well. It was unfortunate, because our last day the power was out until about 5:30 so we couldn’t do all the training sessions that required computers or projectors. These sessions happened to be the ones I was the most interested in!
It essentially was four days where Volunteers could catch up and get rowdy together, but we talked work too. It was absolutely exhausting, especially after the previous weekend with Noche de Fumadores, but well worth the trip. Not too much to talk about!
---
Probably what I’m more concerned about mentioning is the arrival of a permanent visitor in my home … my puppy! After reconnect I went to Andrea’s house and met the remaining puppies. They were so cute! I wanted to take them all home, but this guy will be a handful as it is; HE IS SO HUGE! He’s only two months old and is about the size of an older, 4 month-old puppy. He also has HUGE paws, which I imagine indicate that he will also become a big dog.
After being bombarded by puppy love, I got some one-on-one time with Sapo, which was his name given by Andrea; means toad/frog. I actually really liked that name, but Hondurans DESPISE frogs and I knew they would really not like his name. Actually, they still don’t like Bourbon because they can’t pronounce it. Now, his Spanish name (Hondurans always want to know how names translate and don’t understand when I tell them they don’t normally …) is Toby; that’s a common Honduran dog name and easy for them to say. Anyways, he really could have cared less about my existence and I kind of got sad, thinking that he didn’t like me or something. Little did I know there would be plenty of time to bond in the next two days!
We picked up Bourbon and went to my friend’s house, where a bunch of people were staying for the despedida (going-away party) for a guy in the area. One of the girls in Santa Barbara has Bourbon’s sister and they were playing all day, which was great because I feel like it eased his transition a little bit. They were pretty rough and Lady (the female dog) was dominating Bourbon, but everyone had fun with the two not-so-little puppies in the house … Well, apart from Lady having a fondness of attacking men’s nether regions and Bourbon not yet understanding the concept of not peeing on people’s sleeping mats.
We all hung out there for the night and had a couple of beers to congratulate T on the completion of his service. It was a nice break after reconnect and get used to Bourbon before we continued on to my site. The entire time I was mildly fretting about the 5 hour journey that we had ahead of us …
Two weeks ago Andrea made little traveling boxes for all the puppies. Key words: TWO WEEKS AGO. The little buggers had grown so much that he barely fit in the box and could easily stick his head out the top. He was really good on the way into the city because that was the first time he was out of the house and I think he was majorly overwhelmed.
Well, let’s just say that the next day on the way to the bus stop he was not as well behaved. On the walk down to the bus-stop he was squirming to get out. Not to mention the pitiful crying that he seems to have adopted as a major method of announcing his disapproval of any and all situations.
Anyways, we were waiting in the bus stop for quite a while and he kept crying, wanting to get out of the box. I let him out for a while, because it was really hot, and when the bus finally came I had him securely bundled inside, because bus drivers (especially on the fancy buses like the one we took) aren’t too fond of animals on the buses.
Well, I’m climbing on the bus with the box in my hand and the bus driver says, “Que tiene?” / “What do you have (in there)?”
I couldn’t lie … :sheepishly: … “A puppy…”
“No, dogs aren’t allowed. They’re prohibited.”
“Please.” And Hannah just walks by with the box. Just. Walks. By!
I had just spent a week with a whole bunch of Americans and the extent of my desire to speak Spanish was minimal and I didn’t want to argue with the guy. The bus was pretty full, so I didn’t get very far, and as we drove away I heard the bus driver bitching about how dogs weren’t allowed. As they were discussing the presence of a dog (IN A BOX!) on their bus, a few people around me noticed him (by now he had thrust his head out) and were commenting on how cute he was. A woman sitting in the very first seat told me to put the box at her feet, because they would kick me off if I kept the box in the aisle. After the discussion up front became more heated, I decided to take her up on her offer, and put Bourbon in her seat. He struggled to get out because he was so hot, but we had to keep him in the box because I was hoping that the bus driver would forget and chill out! This woman was really nice! Hondurans hate dogs and this woman was a saint to let me put my dog at her feet while he’s panting and crying to get out! Poor thing, looking back I felt so bad, but at the time I was so stressed! At this point I was cursing myself and my situation because it was really too hot for him, but I couldn’t take him out.
Well it took the bus driver and his ayudante (helper) several minutes to start threatening me; it was weird, we were on the bus for quite a while before they tried to throw me off! I tried to ignore them, but it didn’t really work. Luckily, another Volunteer was with me and he helped advocate to keep the puppy upside. The ayudante wanted to put the box underneath the bus, and I was so thankful that all the people around me rallied on my behalf and battled the mean bus driver! Everyone started shouting, “It’s just a puppy and he’s in the box! He’s not bothering anyone! Plus, he’ll suffocate and get so hot down there he’ll die!!” After a while they laid off and we rode the rest of the bus ride to the stop. I will forever be grateful to those people who stuck-up with me, because if it wasn’t for them I would have just gotten off the bus and been stranded, trying to figure something else out. That experience (with the nice people) really boosted my respect for this culture, because people are quick to help you out and very accommodating and nice.
Even though the guys stopped threatening me, I was on the verge of tears the entire time. A seat finally opened up and I sat done with the box in my lap. After .2 seconds Bourbon started HOWLING and I mean HOWLING to get out of the box. I tried to keep him quiet, but he wasn’t going for it. At this point the bus driver might have forgotten he had a dog on his bus, but this definitely reminded him, and I really didn’t want to upset him anymore. T (the Volunteer) was really nice and told me not to worry about the bus guys and we should take Bourbon out and see what happens. Bourbon was really content just being out of the box and slept on T’s lap for the rest of the trip. THANK GOD!
We got off the bus and almost immediately caught another. This was a chicken bus (yellow school bus) and services local areas, so they could have cared less about a dog on their bus. They’ve probably had tons of weird animals on that bus, because for 99.9% of the population that’s their only method of transportation! I was so relieved, because that first encounter had me terrified that all the buses I had to take would be the same. Bourbon was really good and slept the entire way; he didn’t even go to the bathroom on the bus! … but then again that could have been because the bus broke down shortly after we got on!
We were on the side of the road for a while before another bus came. We tried to rush to make it, but with my big-ass suitcase and all of T’s stuff, we weren’t moving very fast; they left without us. So, I took that opportunity to walk Bourbon and luckily another bus came within a half-hour and we were off again! This ride went smoothly. T got off about 45 minutes before me and I had the rest of the ride to Santa Rosa de Copan. As if the journey wasn’t enough of a hassle, I found out I missed the last bus towards my site and the next bus that would pass about half-hour outside of it was delayed, so it would be getting dark and I didn’t feel too comfortable with that. SO! I called up my lovely friend Kathryn and she is awesome and had no problems with us crashing for the night.
It was actually a welcome stop because I was so tired and stressed it was nice to be somewhere familiar and rest before completing the trip. One of the other PCVs who lives in SRC invited us out to celebrate her boyfriend’s birthday, so we had a wonderful dinner and watched the Honduras vs. Trinidad & Tobago qualifying soccer game for the World Cup (Honduras won!).
At half-time I went to check on Bourbon and see if he had destroyed Kathryn’s apartment. He had indeed used her floor as a public bathroom, which I promptly cleaned up and then decided to take him for a walk. The entire time we were walking around the block he was crying! I think he was so scared of everything and overwhelmed that he just cried and cried. It was kind of ridiculous. So I go to leave a few minutes later and he starts HOWLING again! Like, if I’m not right by his side, he’s howling; even if he can still see me. I wanted to stay and comfort him, but they were waiting for me for dessert and I couldn’t resist … hah! I could hear him howling from about 2 blocks away.
He cried a lot in Kathryn’s place and woke her up in the morning. I’m terrible and pretty much forgot that’s how puppies are! I was mortified because I already felt like I was putting her out, but she was fine. Anyways, woke-up the next morning, jumped on the bus and got to Corquin! I lost my phone on the bus, which I noticed about 15 minutes later and ran to catch up with the bus, but it was already gone. I think the kid working the tickets took it, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I had a lot of credit on there, which was annoying, but oh well. At least we’re home and he’s settling down and seems comfortable. I’m going to go take a nap, but there will be plenty of puppy stories because HE IS SO CUTE!
Not the best blog, but it served to de-stress me at the time. I wrote it when I had just got home and served as more of a bitch session, but things are better!
Bourbon is really intelligent and I good dog. He’s calm and is just a big love-bug. I had people over to celebrate some people in my area completing their two years, and he was great with everyone and didn’t destroy anything! He loved all the people playing with him. He cries less now and is even getting pretty brave. He’s a little rough with other dogs in the beginning and definitely has some food aggression when other dogs are around. I can play with his bowl, but my friend brought his puppy and Bourbon was very aggressive when they were eating. I have to work on that with him!
So, that’s that with puppy stories for now. I have the same number, so don’t worry about that!
Monday, September 7, 2009
Noche de Fumadores
Well this was my first real event with Peace Corps Volunteers from a different projects and groups. I stayed at Kathryn’s place with a bunch of people; about 10 to be exact. We were all on our best behavior and everyone was still alive by the end of the weekend. I think Peace Corps gives you such a traveler’s mentality and people are really conscious of their actions and try to be really accommodating. It’s weird, but I don’t know if that many people eating and sleeping in such a small space would have worked at home.
Anyways, there were a lot of people in town and I think final calculations of PCVs in attendance at Noche de Fumadores was about 65 – 70 people. There are four Volunteers living in Santa Rosa and each hosted at least 2 or 3 people in their apartments. The remaining people we in a hotel right around the corner from Kat’s house.
It has become a tradition for me to go and get the “good beers” when I have gone to Santa Rosa overnight. The store that sells the “good beers” is remodeling and I was extremely dismayed to find that there were three HUGE coolers blocking the wee one that houses all the ice-cold Hoegarden, Leffe and Stella. Luckily, they like us and Kathryn has befriended them, so I didn’t think it would be too much to ask if they could do some moving around for me to get at the equivalent of beer heaven in Honduras. I think they figured out what we wanted … can’t help but notice the two gringas standing, staring longingly at the lovely beer cooler. I actually got really embarrassed when three men were called to help move the coolers. It took them a few minutes to get everything situated. Meanwhile, every other customer in the store is watching us wait for the moving of the cooler and then the smiles spread across our faces as the beers are handed over. My pena (shame) was quickly abated when we had the beers and sour cream and onion chips in Kathryn’s apartment. It’s kind of nice living in a world where such simple pleasures as good company and sour cream and onion chips become the highlight of your month and was monumental events in your life. Ok, that might be slightly exaggerated.
After that more people started trickling in and we began the shower process. As people rotated in the shower the others were getting ready and drinking the crappy Honduran (albeit slightly cheaper) beer. Really the point of this blog is not supposed to revolve around beer, but such is life…
So we get all pretty (pictures will be posted). It was really weird to see everyone formally dressed. I’ve seen people in my training group dressed up for swearing – in, but I think people put more effort into Noche de Fumadores.
So, basically they had 400 tickets for this event; about 70 of those tickets were bought by Peace Corps Volunteers. We get there, and after getting out little tote-bags with 4 cigars, matches and a little sample of coffee, we’re shown to our tables. They put us outside on the balcony, very much separated from the rest of the people who were in the main room. You could look at this as they were purposefully trying to get us isolated from the event or they were doing us a favor by putting us outside and together. Either way, once the event got underway they actually gave us a nice shout-out, actually thanking all the Peace Corps Volunteers for their attendance. After the opening ceremony they opened the food line, which was my main focus at the time. They didn’t plan very well on the food front. Maybe they didn’t realize the all the PCVs would pointedly not eat dinner, knowing full well that there would be food at Noche and we could fill up there, since we already paid for it! We also were the first in line and as a result there wasn’t much food left for people who went later. Damn greedy Americans!
There was also free beer (crappy Honduran beer) and free wine (well, free in the sense that you had already paid out you’re a—and they had the courtesy not to charge you more inside). At one point I saw a friend (no names!) walking in with three beers and pointedly putting them down in front of her, making it very obvious that she had no intention of sharing.
Personally, I got excited about the CHEESE! Cheese here is terrible; would make the French weep with the bastardization of an art that they pride in. Nonetheless, the cheese here was decent and more varied that the high-sodium stuff I find in Corquin. I made several passes by that table…
Apart from the cheese I was also very attached to the dance floor. Don’t know what happened, but I took to dancing this past weekend. After a couple of beers and a lot of Friday nights spent alone at home, I wasn’t about to sit around! One of the early dance partners complimented me on my moves (I know he was being nice!) and that coupled with a little liquid courage had me out there all night! I had a blast just kind of making things up as I went along and pretending that I could dance Latin music. For the most part, I don’t think I was all that bad.
I think we actually left around 1 a.m. and a large group split off to find some more dancing places. Instead of going home I tried to find another place to hang out, but they tried to charge cover and that’s when I decided to go home. I have a thing against paying cover and I’m sure not going to start paying it here.
This is one of the main reasons I love Kathryn: the next morning we had bagels! She spent a weekend making dozens of bagels for her house guests! We had cinnamon and raisin, poppy seed and onion, chocolate chip and plain! And cream cheese! Drank coffee, ate bagels, chatted and some people popped some aspirin. I went to bed probably around 3 a.m. and woke up around 7 a.m. Couple of the girls woke-up at a god-awful hour because everyone is so used to waking-up early and then the traffic on the street was horrendously loud. During the carnivals here, they hire trucks to go around announcing things and for some reason they start at 5 a.m. I vaguely remember something loud passing by and Kathryn moaning, “I HATE HONDURAS!”
The adventurous people actually left the house at a decent hour to explore the day’s events, but a few of us stayed in a bit longer and just relaxed. Finally we did go out, eat and explore the coffee tasting. In the Central Park there were a whole bunch of local coffee producers that were giving coffee tastings and selling their wares. We walked around and enjoyed the music and nice weather. Great afternoon.
The partying was not yet completed! Apparently the night before wasn’t enough for us! Actually, one of the girls in Santa Rosa left for the States today (Monday). She finished her service and it’s tradition to have a huge party for the people leaving. Saturday night we all went out to a couple of bars and there was more dancing. I had a blast! Reminded me of times with Old Glory people, just with three times the people! I hardly knew any of the Volunteers who weren’t in my training group, but it was nice to meet people and hang out. I met two girls in the bathroom and here’s the normal conversation when meeting a PCV:
“Hey! (usually there’s no point asking if they’re with Peace Corps) what group are you?”
“I’m H14 Wat/San.”
“Oh, I’m H12 business. What’s your site? I’m in X…”
“Corquin.”
“OH! :insert here mention of sitemate or other people that reside near this site. Also, it’s common to spout-off other information you might know about this person, which usually comes from the rampant Peace Corps gossip chain. (RANDOM EXAMPLE: Oh! So you’re the one who got drunk in training and no one likes?: Obvious exaggeration…).”
And then you carry on. Actually, I ran into one PCV towards the end of the night and asked (in English) if he saw someone from our group. He must not have heard me, because he just whipped me onto the dance floor and then proceeded to talk to me in Spanish… I did the head-cocked, are you crazy look, before saying, “I’m a Peace Corps Volunteer … You bought me a shot earlier!!”
He was like, “OH! Whoops.”
I was really confused when he started speaking Spanish, although there are those Volunteers who are so intent on practicing their Spanish that they won’t speak English to you. I want to smack those people; this is the only time that I can speak English and you better believe I’m taking advantage of it! Snap out of it!!
Some people went out after that bar too, but about 4 am is my limit for being awake. I don’t know what happened to me this past weekend. I morphed into a rare form of Hannah … I don’t dance and I don’t generally like to stay out past 1 am. Sleeping is an important part of my life. Actually, I didn’t expect to even make it to the first bar because I was so tired, but once we got there it was like an adrenaline rush and I became the Energize bunny! I think it was just the excitement of actually seeing people and having something to do that kept me going. I met a lot of cool people and had an absolute blast. I’m not going to make a habit of doing the big, high-profile partying in Peace Corps, but I think events like that are really what keep a lot of people sane. It’s great to get away for a weekend and recharge your patience with Honduras.
Anyways, there were a lot of people in town and I think final calculations of PCVs in attendance at Noche de Fumadores was about 65 – 70 people. There are four Volunteers living in Santa Rosa and each hosted at least 2 or 3 people in their apartments. The remaining people we in a hotel right around the corner from Kat’s house.
It has become a tradition for me to go and get the “good beers” when I have gone to Santa Rosa overnight. The store that sells the “good beers” is remodeling and I was extremely dismayed to find that there were three HUGE coolers blocking the wee one that houses all the ice-cold Hoegarden, Leffe and Stella. Luckily, they like us and Kathryn has befriended them, so I didn’t think it would be too much to ask if they could do some moving around for me to get at the equivalent of beer heaven in Honduras. I think they figured out what we wanted … can’t help but notice the two gringas standing, staring longingly at the lovely beer cooler. I actually got really embarrassed when three men were called to help move the coolers. It took them a few minutes to get everything situated. Meanwhile, every other customer in the store is watching us wait for the moving of the cooler and then the smiles spread across our faces as the beers are handed over. My pena (shame) was quickly abated when we had the beers and sour cream and onion chips in Kathryn’s apartment. It’s kind of nice living in a world where such simple pleasures as good company and sour cream and onion chips become the highlight of your month and was monumental events in your life. Ok, that might be slightly exaggerated.
After that more people started trickling in and we began the shower process. As people rotated in the shower the others were getting ready and drinking the crappy Honduran (albeit slightly cheaper) beer. Really the point of this blog is not supposed to revolve around beer, but such is life…
So we get all pretty (pictures will be posted). It was really weird to see everyone formally dressed. I’ve seen people in my training group dressed up for swearing – in, but I think people put more effort into Noche de Fumadores.
So, basically they had 400 tickets for this event; about 70 of those tickets were bought by Peace Corps Volunteers. We get there, and after getting out little tote-bags with 4 cigars, matches and a little sample of coffee, we’re shown to our tables. They put us outside on the balcony, very much separated from the rest of the people who were in the main room. You could look at this as they were purposefully trying to get us isolated from the event or they were doing us a favor by putting us outside and together. Either way, once the event got underway they actually gave us a nice shout-out, actually thanking all the Peace Corps Volunteers for their attendance. After the opening ceremony they opened the food line, which was my main focus at the time. They didn’t plan very well on the food front. Maybe they didn’t realize the all the PCVs would pointedly not eat dinner, knowing full well that there would be food at Noche and we could fill up there, since we already paid for it! We also were the first in line and as a result there wasn’t much food left for people who went later. Damn greedy Americans!
There was also free beer (crappy Honduran beer) and free wine (well, free in the sense that you had already paid out you’re a—and they had the courtesy not to charge you more inside). At one point I saw a friend (no names!) walking in with three beers and pointedly putting them down in front of her, making it very obvious that she had no intention of sharing.
Personally, I got excited about the CHEESE! Cheese here is terrible; would make the French weep with the bastardization of an art that they pride in. Nonetheless, the cheese here was decent and more varied that the high-sodium stuff I find in Corquin. I made several passes by that table…
Apart from the cheese I was also very attached to the dance floor. Don’t know what happened, but I took to dancing this past weekend. After a couple of beers and a lot of Friday nights spent alone at home, I wasn’t about to sit around! One of the early dance partners complimented me on my moves (I know he was being nice!) and that coupled with a little liquid courage had me out there all night! I had a blast just kind of making things up as I went along and pretending that I could dance Latin music. For the most part, I don’t think I was all that bad.
I think we actually left around 1 a.m. and a large group split off to find some more dancing places. Instead of going home I tried to find another place to hang out, but they tried to charge cover and that’s when I decided to go home. I have a thing against paying cover and I’m sure not going to start paying it here.
This is one of the main reasons I love Kathryn: the next morning we had bagels! She spent a weekend making dozens of bagels for her house guests! We had cinnamon and raisin, poppy seed and onion, chocolate chip and plain! And cream cheese! Drank coffee, ate bagels, chatted and some people popped some aspirin. I went to bed probably around 3 a.m. and woke up around 7 a.m. Couple of the girls woke-up at a god-awful hour because everyone is so used to waking-up early and then the traffic on the street was horrendously loud. During the carnivals here, they hire trucks to go around announcing things and for some reason they start at 5 a.m. I vaguely remember something loud passing by and Kathryn moaning, “I HATE HONDURAS!”
The adventurous people actually left the house at a decent hour to explore the day’s events, but a few of us stayed in a bit longer and just relaxed. Finally we did go out, eat and explore the coffee tasting. In the Central Park there were a whole bunch of local coffee producers that were giving coffee tastings and selling their wares. We walked around and enjoyed the music and nice weather. Great afternoon.
The partying was not yet completed! Apparently the night before wasn’t enough for us! Actually, one of the girls in Santa Rosa left for the States today (Monday). She finished her service and it’s tradition to have a huge party for the people leaving. Saturday night we all went out to a couple of bars and there was more dancing. I had a blast! Reminded me of times with Old Glory people, just with three times the people! I hardly knew any of the Volunteers who weren’t in my training group, but it was nice to meet people and hang out. I met two girls in the bathroom and here’s the normal conversation when meeting a PCV:
“Hey! (usually there’s no point asking if they’re with Peace Corps) what group are you?”
“I’m H14 Wat/San.”
“Oh, I’m H12 business. What’s your site? I’m in X…”
“Corquin.”
“OH! :insert here mention of sitemate or other people that reside near this site. Also, it’s common to spout-off other information you might know about this person, which usually comes from the rampant Peace Corps gossip chain. (RANDOM EXAMPLE: Oh! So you’re the one who got drunk in training and no one likes?: Obvious exaggeration…).”
And then you carry on. Actually, I ran into one PCV towards the end of the night and asked (in English) if he saw someone from our group. He must not have heard me, because he just whipped me onto the dance floor and then proceeded to talk to me in Spanish… I did the head-cocked, are you crazy look, before saying, “I’m a Peace Corps Volunteer … You bought me a shot earlier!!”
He was like, “OH! Whoops.”
I was really confused when he started speaking Spanish, although there are those Volunteers who are so intent on practicing their Spanish that they won’t speak English to you. I want to smack those people; this is the only time that I can speak English and you better believe I’m taking advantage of it! Snap out of it!!
Some people went out after that bar too, but about 4 am is my limit for being awake. I don’t know what happened to me this past weekend. I morphed into a rare form of Hannah … I don’t dance and I don’t generally like to stay out past 1 am. Sleeping is an important part of my life. Actually, I didn’t expect to even make it to the first bar because I was so tired, but once we got there it was like an adrenaline rush and I became the Energize bunny! I think it was just the excitement of actually seeing people and having something to do that kept me going. I met a lot of cool people and had an absolute blast. I’m not going to make a habit of doing the big, high-profile partying in Peace Corps, but I think events like that are really what keep a lot of people sane. It’s great to get away for a weekend and recharge your patience with Honduras.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
