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.
Friday, November 20, 2009
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!”
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