I was going to write a blog yesterday, but lost track of time and had to head out for class.
I'm really getting tired of the waiting game. We had plans to go to the hot springs on Saturday and chill out, but it looks as though Mel is trying to make everyone suffer some more and is planning on returning on Saturday. Thus, we will probably be on standby and I will not be able to leave my site. Thank you again, Mel Zelaya!
The other day I decided not to go to work (great, huh? This is one of the benefits of being a VOLUNTEER. I make my own hours!) So I was awkwardly hanging about the house, and since I cannot make tortillas (which renders me virtually useless), I was asked if I could sweep the floor. After I agree and walk away to get the broom, Albita asks me, "Do you know how to sweep the floor?" Ummm ...
Before I could catch myself, I threw my hands up in the, "Do you honestly think I'm that stupid!!!" way and walked away. I just ... I mean ... How do they think we live? Do I come off as the type of American that grew up so sheltered that I don't know how to use a broom? Or, is it that they think we have much fancier appliances to do such work. Come to think of it, I've never seen a vacuum here... HMMM.
I'd like to say that I have better things to do during a coup, but in fact I don't. Not that I would have had work, but I'm finding myself increasingly distressed by this coup and how it seems to have stopped me from feeling able to move forward in Honduras. For instance, the day that the coup actually happened and we didn't have any electricity, I could have studied Spanish or a million other things. But instead I made a necklace. Yes, I took the beads from my host mom's skirt that she didn't want and made a stunning necklace out of beads, thread and a safety pin. I think it's amazing.
The other day my site-mate commented on the necklace, and my reply was, "Thanks! I made it during the coup!" It's now my coup necklace. That would be a good name to launch a jewelry line. I've always wanted to design jewelry, but more for the purposes of just being able to create any piece of jewelry that I wanted, but wasn't rich enough to buy.
So, yesterday a couple of the girls from my area were heading up to the "post office" and I tagged along to see where it was. Turns out, the post office is really just an office in some random woman's house and she in charge of distributing the mail. I'm kind of skeptical of the whole set-up, but we chatted a bit, and of course my introduction was followed by ...
"Look how jovencita (young)she is!"
"Yes, I look young, I know I look like I'm 17 years old, but I'm actually 23."
Trying to avoid the usual Honduran comment, "But you look like you're 17 or 18!!"