I don’t feel like giving all this back story so … I have a Honduran friend Jackie who was graduating with her teaching degree, which is a really big deal and I was the only one (including family) who went to watch her graduate. It was awesome and stressful.
We got to the university around 7:30 am, where I promptly located the exotic food … the Dunkin Donuts! stand and proceeded to try to eat them out of every donut they shipped in; I saw them in their packaging, but that didn’t discourage me. From there everything pretty much dissolved into chaos. I tried to hold onto my donut high, but then people invaded my personal space and I went nuts. Heh.
So they were supposed to get there early to organize themselves, which makes sense. The day before they had done a run through and, foolishly, I thought that things were going to go smoothly. I mean, I don’t think you can argue with me when I saw the U.S. is much more organized than Honduras in all aspects of life. I’m not hating on Honduras, just stating the truth. So when I walked onto the campus that morning I should have been prepared, but foolishly was unaware of the mayhem that would ensue.
Now, no one wants to go to a graduation. I didn’t want to go to my college graduation. It’s boring and you sit there, and let’s be honest, the only moment you really care about is getting your diploma and maybe seeing a couple of friends get theirs. After that, you just want to get out of those itchy, hot gowns and go eat some good food and get some presents! I mean, if you were ever to catch your parents and grandparents in a very honest conversation I’m sure they would admit that they dreaded every graduation. I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if parents based the number of children they wanted to have on the number of graduations they would have to attend. I mean, I feel sorry for my grandparents because they will have attended record number of graduations between children and grandchildren. We all know they’re boring!
Occasionally, during my life here in Honduras, I realize major differences between the U.S. and this country. Sometimes these realizations are e subtle and other times they will have to in a deep depression for several weeks. Other times, like in Jackie’s graduation, they will have you on the verge of punching someone in the face …
For instance, if you are in a big crowd of people in the U.S. people (most) will do their best to move for you if you are unfortunate enough to have to push your way through the crowd.
“Excuse me, excuse me. Sorry …” and generally you will at least see them make an effort, even if it’s only a millimeter. Well, in Honduras it’s like they immediately sprout roots into the concrete the moment their feet get planted. There’s over 1,000 people graduating in the entire country at the same time and they’re all standing around the same entrance trying to get through the one open door at the same time!! I was in the unfortunate position to be fighting my way OUT. You know how you feel when you get pushed under a really strong wave in the ocean? You’re fighting for breath and trying to get to the surface, but the wave breaks on you and keeps you tumbling around under water until you get so desperate for air that you think you’re going to drown? Yeah? That’s how I felt fighting through those people.
No one would move! I was trying to be as polite as possible, but at one point I came across a woman who would not budge and gave me the most evil look and I just stared at her and growled, “Really?” I love being able to speak in English like that, because even though she probably got the jist of what the comment was, I still feel sneaky and cunning because I can be a smart ass without detection.
Well, after the terrible ocean drowning flashbacks, I emerged from the sea of graduates and though, “Now what. I have an hour to sit here?” So I called Chris to complain about my terrible experience with pushy Hondurans. Didn’t find much comfort there as he immediately says, “That will suck! I didn’t even go to my graduation!” I KNOW RIGHT!
Now, don’t get me wrong, because I am very honored that Jackie invited me and I am even more honored that I was there to see her accomplish such a huge thing in her life.
Jackie calls me from inside and says that family and friends are started to pick seats and she wanted me to be close to the front so I could take pictures. I stand up, take a deep breath and plunge back into the chaos. Now, why on Earth would you have one door open when a gagillion people are trying to get into one single building? Especially, when said building has like six available doors? Come on now people.
Now most of you are probably giggling at the thought of me struggling with all these people trying to get through this door. I think I defied nature in legitimately blowing steam from my ears. Hondurans are INCREDIBLY pushy people I realized in that moment and if I tried to fight it I was bound to lose my mind on the spot. Instead, I took to muttering, “This is so stupid. Why is one door open? Please God help me get through this. Oh man. Take a deep breath … NO NO. Don’t yell. Calm. Tranquila.”
I finally got in and picked my seat based on the fact that it was A) close to the front and Jackie approved B) there was no one remotely close to me. I get settled and get both cameras ready. There was quite a bit of time until the ceremony started so I pulled out my book and settled in for a short reading session.
At this moment there was sooo much space on the bleachers. I mean, you could have you pick of any row and this family chose to sit RIGHT next to me. And when I say next I pretty much mean right on top of me. Literally. The man sat down on my thigh. I drop my book into my lap and say to myself, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” And then I decided to wage war. I had more space on my other side so I scooted over a bit, but he immediately conquered that extra space. At that moment I realized that I could not give him more room, because over of the course of the ceremony he would take over all my carefully preserved personal bubble. I’d have to take back my own lost territory. It was on!
Now after you read this blog post you might be finally convinced of my insanity and I cannot argue with you on that point. I was paying attention to the ceremony when all the Corquin people graduated and beyond that my mind was consumed by this serious affront to my personal space bubble (which is, in fact, the size of a football field).
At this point, I will share with you some of my thoughts during this very stressful time in my life. I was so stressed out I ripped pages out of my book and started to write about it, because it served to calm me down for a millisecond.
- Hondurans are quite possibly one of the more rude populations in the world. The couple next to me: I just witnessed the wife make her husband spread his legs so that they had more space on the bleachers. We officially are making contact from our knees all the way up our torsos.
- “Latino culture is the worst place for a personal space “nut’ to live. I’m sitting, looking through the crowd at other single women who have plenty of space and …
SIDEBAR: He just put on his glasses to see what I was writing! The nerve!
… envying the abundance of space they have maintained. I’m sitting here next to this man (by no means tall) who has managed to expand to the size of HULK! I’ve become resentful and angry and I have decided to wage a campaign to re-conquer my lost space. I’ve gently nudged back and started to expand myself to show that I’m not backing down without a fight! … Unfortunately, he hasn’t noticed.”
I’m not kidding. I wrote that while I was waiting. I’m a child. But, in my defense, I was really distressed. I sent Kathryn this text, “In NO WAY should a perfect stranger have this much bodily contact with me!! If this guy moves one more inch I might just lost it.” She told me to just breathe.
Finally the ceremony started and I was distracted a bit, although when we had to stand for the national anthem and it was time for my final strike! When the anthem ended I sat down so fast you would think we were playing musical chairs to win $1 million. I reclaimed a significant amount of space and in a very childish manner (in my head) exclaimed, “HAH! I WIN!”
Eventually, the family did leave and I was left alone to recover my sanity. I really can’t help but laugh at myself because it’s so ridiculous, but I honestly was having a slight panic attack. Now I will talk seriously of the graduation …
The entire country graduated at the same time. Now, I didn’t quite understand this, but they are all graduating with various levels of teach degrees. You can graduate as a tecnico, which I honestly don’t know what that means, or you can graduate with your licienciatura, which is what Jackie got. This is like your bachelor’s degree from what I understand. So in all there were over 1,000 people. The ceremony was very simple with only the director of the department speaking before they started calling names. After all the names were called, there were very short closing remarks and then everyone left. I was disappointed that they didn’t throw the hats up in the air. Actually, I felt like no one seemed to be very excited. They didn’t even really cheer or clap for themselves!
Now the following was just about the most unfortunate series of events that I could ever imagine happening after a graduation. In the weeks before the ceremony, I remember Jackie talking about all the paperwork they had to do to actually graduate. They headed to Tegucigalpa a few days beforehand to do all the administrative stuff. Now, I don’t remember that end of the deal when I graduated, probably because it was all online and incredibly easy. Honduras should consider that method for the following years.
After graduation, instead of the congratulatory hugs and (in my case) the exchange of gorgeous George’s Flowers bouquets, Jackie runs up, grabs my arm and we run to get in line. Now, in following of the George’s Flowers tradition, I did get Jackie flowers. I know she loves flowers; I love flowers and who wouldn’t want to receive flowers as an in-the-moment congratulations? Admittedly, I only got her two flowers because bouquets were wickedly expensive, but it’s quality and no quantity, eh?
I didn’t even have time to give Jackie her flowers and the handmade card I made her! So the ceremony ends at 12:30 and we immediately get in line to wait there until 4:00 p.m. I’ll let that sink in!!
Imagine accomplishing something that momentous and having to do more paperwork immediately afterwards? Maybe to make it more striking, because a lot of people get their bachelor’s degrees now, it would be like getting your PhD or something and not being able to celebrate something so huge! Turns out they paid 600 lempiras to rent their gowns and had to wait to get the deposit back along with the other 1,000 people!
No one had any idea that it would take this long. Naturally, it was incredibly disorganized, and no one had any idea if they were in the right line, etc. I occupied myself with reading and texting a friend for cool restaurant suggestions for the celebratory lunch, but around hour three I was getting a little impatient. Finally, Jackie finished, but she was so tired and frustrated she didn’t want to go out to eat. Her aunt and cousins were throwing a celebratory dinner later that evening and it didn’t make sense to eat a fancy meal only a few hours beforehand. So where did we have Jackie’s celebratory graduation lunch? Subway. Now, I was pretty excited, secretly, because anything remotely American style fast food gets me all worked up for the novelty, but I was also extremely disappointed.
Easily my favorite part of my graduation was having my family and grandparents there. I spend weeks picking out a restaurant that everyone would like. Grandpa doesn’t like to get too exotic and Pap-Pap once said that his favorite country he ever visited was Greece. Did this factor into my restaurant decision? You betcha! I lived in D.C. and loved trying new foreign foods. I harassed my Mom about her opinion on various ethnic restaurants until she exploded, “Hannah just pick one!” I remember Grandma (both in fact, maybe) ordered a dish similar to the one in Ratoutillle, which provoked a little mental chuckle for me. Yes, I’m being nostalgic, but that was my favorite part! All of the most important people in my life (well, most at least) sharing a really good meal. Plus, we had mimosas!
So, you would imagine my disappointment when Jackie’s big meal, which I had obviously worked up in my head, was in a food court eating Subway sandwiches. Also, I just feel bad for the graduates in general. Instead of being able to leave and celebrate their accomplishments, they had to wait in line for hours until the point they were too exhausted and frustrated to even feel happy for themselves. Jackie and I were going to take a little weekend vacation, but the rest of the Corquin graduates immediately jumped on their bus to start the 10 hour drive back to Copan. Just really unfortunate!
Jumping a few hours ahead … Jackie’s aunt lives in Tegucigalpa with her five daughters and various grandchildren. Jackie lived with her aunt while she was studying and has a very close bond with this side of her family. All five daughters are educated with one engineer, one doctor and three teachers with their bachelor’s degrees. It’s a pretty big accomplishment as I understand that she was a single mother as well and it’s just not that normal for young women to be so educated. I realized I really liked these women immediately. They’re smart and open-minded ; they were discussing homosexuality and all agreed that it’s a sexual preference and not a mental disease, etc., which is a huge departure from most people’s opinions in Honduras.
Jackie’s family reminded me very much of my own. Everyone was always talking at the same time and inevitably someone was making fun of/harassing one sibling or another at any given moment. Kids were running all over the place and there was even an aunt who specialized in making the boys feel uncomfortable by catching them and demanding kisses! It was complete loving chaos.
We ate good food and I enjoyed every moment. They made me feel very much at home. I still would have given anything to be at a family gathering with my own family, but it was a good substitution.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
It was fun, scary and all a waste of time …
Several stories play into this blog entry and none of them really have anything to do with the title, but my friend said that on the phone and I liked the sentiment.
Nothing all that interesting has been happening as I don’t have reliable work at the moment. Not having reliable work encourages me not to leave my house, which means that the potential for awkward, funny stories is significantly lower.
I am going to relay a story that a friend told me via text message the other day:
Low of the day: Plunging the toilet because of the massive turd my husband left for me today and spraying poop water all over myself and the bathroom.
High of the day: A lot of things, but they were all ruined by that one experience.
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My dog has mange (at least that is the conclusion I have come to), of which I was relating to my friend the other day and she said … “You know people can get mange?” This was right after I had my face buried in my dog’s fur because I was being affectionate considering he doesn’t feel well and is mad at me for spraying purple spray all over him (antibiotic stuff).
“WHAT?! Are you serious?” and instead of going and scrubbing my face and hands, like maybe I should have, I respond, “Dude if I got mange I would officially win the award for getting the weirdest, nastiest disease in Honduras! Forget scabies, forget dengue and all the amoebas … I WIN!”
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One of the days that I actually kind of had work to do I was heading to the office and as I was walking past as house I noticed a whole bunch of people struggling with what looked like a rolled up carpet. I then noticed that there were feet dangling out of said rolled up carpet … It was like the Sopranos, but Honduran campesino style, because Hondurans just lack subtly in general. There was a woman on the phone talking about how they were going to the hospital in Santa Rosa and it was that moment that I noticed the feet were slightly moving as they put the man in the BACK OF THE TRUCK. Instead of calling the ambulance or putting him in the cab of the truck, they put the old man (which I noticed at this time) in the carpet in the back of the truck! I was watching all of this, totally forgetting that in my culture it’s rude to stare. Meanwhile I was passing other staring Hondurans, hoping that someone would validate my emotions of how MESSED UP THIS WAS! Didn’t happen. I wanted to cry or even laugh because of how absurd the situation was. The truck took off and I immediately called everyone I knew to tell them the story. Some people did laugh and others were like, “Wow that’s really sad …”
After that encounter I went to the office to pick up my sitemate, whom I had convinced to come up into the campo with me because I needed to take more GPS points for the study I’m doing. Well, my sitemate doesn’t really spend much time in the campo and after stumbling through the first coffee finca (plantation) I told her she could wait on the “road” for me while I went and found the stakes that I needed to figure out where I was, which was interesting because most of them had disappeared. I got my silly self lost while wandering around muttering to myself about why people would remove stakes in the ground that had numbers on them!
Well, I was gone for a while and when I came back she wasn’t where I had left her. Immediately I start thinking that somebody had grabbed her and carried her away. Great. How do I explain that one? Well, thanks for technology, I could just call her and she informed me that she had kind of fallen asleep in a clearing. She woke up when a group of coffee pickers walked by, naturally staring at her, because she’s obviously a foreigner sleeping in the middle of nowhere! Who does that?? She scares me sometimes.
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It’s been getting really hot here recently. We’re leaving the period of rain and cool weather for one of scorching summer heat and I’m not handling it very well. I’m trying to get myself used to the idea that I will permanently have pit stains and just be generally grumping because if the heat. Increased sweating means increased laundry, which wouldn’t be so bad if I owned more acceptable clothing. Therefore, I decided to brave the “department store” again in search of another bra, because yet another has fallen victim to thrashing puppy teeth. I walk into the first floor and there, in all its glory, is a massive pool display! It can’t be! Yes, yes it’s no mirage … kiddy pools are 50% off!
I yelled, “CASEY! COME HERE NOW!” and walked over to the display, grabbed the box, and started bouncing up and down like a little kid with a big grin on my face. WHEEEEE!
What is more perfect for these hot days than a kiddy pool?! I just stood there and stared in awe of my luck for several moments. The Hondurans in the store must have thought I was crazy. What 20-something gringa has ever entered their store and gotten that excited about a kiddy pool? I think I even squealed a couple of times.
When I got back to Kathryn’s apartment I think my look said everything; she goes, “What did you get??” I make a big deal of the reveal, whip off the bag and expose my new pool!
“KIDDY POOL!” I squeal.
“OH MAN! We’re going back to your site tomorrow and we’re going to fill it up and drink beers for our one year in country anniversary! So amazing!”
Next morning we wake up and it’s cloudy. Then a Honduran tells us that another cold front is coming through. Kathryn, in her disappoint, “Dammit! Leave it to Honduras to ruin the kiddy pool for us! Cold front! I knew it! I knew that we wouldn’t get to swim in it this week!”
Well a few hours later we’re pulling into Corquin and it’s kind of raining and getting quite cold. We walk into my house and I immediately whip out the pool and sit down in it in my house (pictures will be posted). Kathryn is taking pictures and she stops, “You know … that water heater … hot tub?”
I was right there with her, but we decided that the electricity combination is dangerous enough, but putting it in a flimsy plastic pool might be taunting fate too much.
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Next story? Well Kathryn and I were walking up to my house that day and per usual there is a Honduran male peeing outside my house. I always have this huge fear that, even though I slow down when I see them outside, that me walking really slow will still get me to my door before they’ve finished their business. I really have no desire to see random body parts … like ever and I just feel like it would be incredibly awkward for all parties involved.
Well Kathryn and I successfully avoid seeing Honduran … parts … and get to the house. Now, Bourbon is even more sick than he usually is and we were waiting for a coworker of mine to arrive to “diagnose” him and give him antibiotics if necessary. My yard looks very white trashy. Actually, my whole house. Kathryn, last time she visited me, told me I live like a bachelor. A gross mealy apple someone gave me sat on my window sill for weeks before I tossed it, and I only tossed it because Kathryn, upon leaving the last time, told me that if it was still there on her next visit that she would throw it at my head … I believed her. Therefore, when we walked in the door I discreetly chucked it out the window while she put her stuff down.
Well, I have a puppy that has an oral fixation quite unlike I’ve ever seen in other animals or humans. It doesn’t help that that my yard is filled with trash that people have been burying there over the years.
Trash in the yard + curious, chewing puppy + my lack of motivation = lots of bits of trash all over my front yard.
Apparently this bothers Kathryn and she got to picking up the trash while we waited for Humberto. You can’t watch a friend clean up your yard while you sit there, so naturally I get up to help. Well, we make our way to the fence and I grab a black, plastic bag. The immediate sensation of wetness drips down my hand and my brain wastes no time …
“CAMPESINO PEE! OH MY GOD THERE’S CAMPESINO PEE ALL OVER MY HAND!!!!!! AHHHHHIIIIYYYYYYYHHHHHHEEEWWWWWWWWW”
I take off around the house at lightning speed with the sound of Kathryn’s laughing hysterically behind me. I get to my pila and start scrubbing down both arms like I’m preparing for major surgery. The entire time I’m mumbling, “Oh man. Too gross. So not cool. CAMPESINO PEE! Oh no. Oh no.”
Several minutes later, when I feel like I’ve sufficiently disinfected myself I immerge from the house to Kathryn still doubled up outside my house laughing.
“That’s the most hilarious thing I could have ever seen.”
“Actually, no it’s not hilarious KATHRYN! It’s gross. So gross.” Again, like a little kid, I plop myself down on the porch with my arms folded and watch her pick up the rest of the trash.
For the next two days, whether it made sense or not, she often replied with, “Well you did touch campesino pee…”
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February 25th, 2010 was the official one year in country for my group! Kathryn and I were quite excited that we had work to do (which would limit the potential for depressive wallowing) and were heading up to a new community to talk to them about doing a potential study. We wake up, late after deciding not to run because it was “too cold,” and I lounge in bed a little longer than Kathryn.
“Toilet’s not running, which means there still isn’t any water. Way to go Honduras …”
I hear bustling in the kitchen and marvel at how Kathryn can read my mind and is already preparing the coffee. Love that girl! Then there’s a piercing yell!
“There’s no luz!!!! We can’t make coffee because there isn’t any electricity! KILL ME!”
That's a bit dramatic, but still ...
Now I’m really not getting out of bed. I yell from my covers, “You know what this means? This means today is going to be the worst day ever. This means that everything is going to go wrong because there already isn’t any water or luz. Now, because this is an important day for us and things already suck that means we won’t end up going out to the community. Now, we’re going to spend the entire day in my house, cold, without electricity or work. We’ll only be able to watch one movie and then spend the rest of the day wallowing in depression! I can’t handle this today!!” This was delivered in the hysterical, breathy voice that I’m sure you all can now recall fondly (hahaha!)
“Ok, calm down. That might not happen.”
In retaliation we decided to show up to the mayor’s office a half hour late as we were quite put off and Hondurans are never on time. Well, around 8:05 am the woman we were coordinating with called us. The minute Kathryn spoke in Spanish I knew it was Norma and I got unbelievably angry that they had the audacity of confronting us on our tardiness. Well, there was more. FIJENSEQUE the municipality thought that we were going to find a ride (which we’ve never done EVER in the times we’ve worked with them before!) and the muni can’t take us because their only car is in Teguz. Lovely.
“I KNEW IT!” I screech in the middle of the street as I perform the angry dance to show my distress. Kathryn shooed me away, which didn’t help matters. We were supposed to continue up to the muni to talk to her about the specifics of the project and try to find a time when we could go a different week. The entire walk up the hill (about 15 – 20 minutes) I launched into an extensive breakdown of why Honduras is doomed and all the potential ways we were going to get screwed that day. Luckily, Kathryn tried to be positive, which was better than us both losing it!
At the muni we also encountered the fontaneros (plumbers) for the water system in Corquin whom we have been working with on an improvement project for Corquin. They have been avoiding me like the plague and had more excuses that because the line was messed up at the moment it would be better for us to wait for it to get “normal” before we could continue with our work. Well that sent me off too.
“I’m hanging by a thread here man! I need work! We need to advance in something for once!! I can’t sit around anymore!!!!!!”
We talked with Norma, which didn’t really reveal much information other than she’s leaving the job and we’ll be dealing with a new guy now. We leave, broken down again by Honduras.
“What now?”
“I need coffee … Or a gun. Pick one.”
“What if someone from ODECO is going up to Joconales and could take us? I can’t sit around today. There’s no point without luz.”
“He doesn’t have a car. Maybe you should go with him and I’ll just go take a nap …” Kathryn’s glare tells me that that is an unacceptable suggestion.
“Let’s go to Casa Grande and get coffee and then we’ll figure out something to do …”
My co-worker calls and … well we got up to the aldea in maybe the most unsafe method of transportation and I can’t really publish those details here. Everyone that we passed stared to the point that they might have broken their necks.
The nice thing is that we got to do some work and the community seems very proactive. We talked to a few guys and they seem very eager to work and we made some considerable progress. I returned to Corquin with a new attitude and wasn’t breaking down into hysterical cursing every few minutes.
Satisfied with our half day or work, we crawled back into bed to watch 1.5 movies before my computer died. Usually the power comes back on around 5 p.m., but that day it came back at 3! I screeched when I noticed the lights go on. “LUZ!! We have LUZ! We can eat now! God I’m so hungry!” Why did I ever buy an electric stove?? Good things come to those who wait.
So, the day didn’t end up being too bad. Kathryn and I had a bottle of champagne to celebrate our one year in country. She wanted to open it all calm like, but I insisted that we have some sort of explosion, which seemed to suit our relationship with Honduras a little better. Now, I’ve never opened champagne before. I can’t even handle open a bottle of wine. The other week I was trying to open a bottle of wine with the little corkscrew on my Swiss army knife and promptly snapped it off (sorry Pap-Pap). This left me to come up with creative ways to get the rest of the cork out without causing major damage to myself or the bottle. It got interesting.
I did get the cork off and it went about one foot, but without the showy explosion of champagne that you see in the movies and stuff. Still, it was more exciting than slowly working it off. So, Kathryn and I spent the night with the champagne and soup while reading several month old Cosmopolitans and listening to trash rap (IE: “Apologize” Timbaland; “Got Your Money” Ol Dirty Bastard; “Crank that Spider Man” Soldier Boy”) Random, you say? Yes, but also great fun.
This morning … Well, some background information. I am a Wat/San Volunteer and I have a toilet that runs and a leaky faucet on my pila, which are the two biggest problems when we talk about wasting water in Honduras. I know, I know. I feel guilty, but not enough to overcome the procrastination to fix the faucet.
When we weren’t really getting water I loosened up the faucet so that it would let out more than the usual drip. That morning my pila was full and I decided I should reduce it down to a drip again, and as I had down the time before to tighten the faucet, I grab my hammer and start knocking the faucet around. Ok, knocking isn’t right … tapping. Well the first knock sent water spraying out from the band sealing up the connection, which got all over me. Crap. So I tapped it again. More spraying. HRMMMM. Knock a different part of it? (now I was really knocking it around). More spraying. I try a different angle and the whole faucet breaks off and I just have a huge stream of water coming out of the tube and flowing all over my back patio. Oh God. Now what?
“Oh man. Not good. Oh … I’m in trouble …” At this point Kathryn emerges from the house and is like, “What the heck did you you?!”
Then, Dimitri, who was coming over, rounds the corner and goes, “Geez! What did you do?!”
There’s me, sprayed with water, with the hammer in my hand looking like a guilty little kid. Dimitri, being my resident handyman, goes and borrows an adjustable wrench, buys a new faucet and fixes my pila. Now I’m a good Wat/San Volunteer with only a runny toilet!
We sat down to breakfast a little later and during a pause in the conversation Dimitri says, “Now in what world did hitting that thing with a hammer make any sense to you … ??”
Nothing all that interesting has been happening as I don’t have reliable work at the moment. Not having reliable work encourages me not to leave my house, which means that the potential for awkward, funny stories is significantly lower.
I am going to relay a story that a friend told me via text message the other day:
Low of the day: Plunging the toilet because of the massive turd my husband left for me today and spraying poop water all over myself and the bathroom.
High of the day: A lot of things, but they were all ruined by that one experience.
---
My dog has mange (at least that is the conclusion I have come to), of which I was relating to my friend the other day and she said … “You know people can get mange?” This was right after I had my face buried in my dog’s fur because I was being affectionate considering he doesn’t feel well and is mad at me for spraying purple spray all over him (antibiotic stuff).
“WHAT?! Are you serious?” and instead of going and scrubbing my face and hands, like maybe I should have, I respond, “Dude if I got mange I would officially win the award for getting the weirdest, nastiest disease in Honduras! Forget scabies, forget dengue and all the amoebas … I WIN!”
---
One of the days that I actually kind of had work to do I was heading to the office and as I was walking past as house I noticed a whole bunch of people struggling with what looked like a rolled up carpet. I then noticed that there were feet dangling out of said rolled up carpet … It was like the Sopranos, but Honduran campesino style, because Hondurans just lack subtly in general. There was a woman on the phone talking about how they were going to the hospital in Santa Rosa and it was that moment that I noticed the feet were slightly moving as they put the man in the BACK OF THE TRUCK. Instead of calling the ambulance or putting him in the cab of the truck, they put the old man (which I noticed at this time) in the carpet in the back of the truck! I was watching all of this, totally forgetting that in my culture it’s rude to stare. Meanwhile I was passing other staring Hondurans, hoping that someone would validate my emotions of how MESSED UP THIS WAS! Didn’t happen. I wanted to cry or even laugh because of how absurd the situation was. The truck took off and I immediately called everyone I knew to tell them the story. Some people did laugh and others were like, “Wow that’s really sad …”
After that encounter I went to the office to pick up my sitemate, whom I had convinced to come up into the campo with me because I needed to take more GPS points for the study I’m doing. Well, my sitemate doesn’t really spend much time in the campo and after stumbling through the first coffee finca (plantation) I told her she could wait on the “road” for me while I went and found the stakes that I needed to figure out where I was, which was interesting because most of them had disappeared. I got my silly self lost while wandering around muttering to myself about why people would remove stakes in the ground that had numbers on them!
Well, I was gone for a while and when I came back she wasn’t where I had left her. Immediately I start thinking that somebody had grabbed her and carried her away. Great. How do I explain that one? Well, thanks for technology, I could just call her and she informed me that she had kind of fallen asleep in a clearing. She woke up when a group of coffee pickers walked by, naturally staring at her, because she’s obviously a foreigner sleeping in the middle of nowhere! Who does that?? She scares me sometimes.
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It’s been getting really hot here recently. We’re leaving the period of rain and cool weather for one of scorching summer heat and I’m not handling it very well. I’m trying to get myself used to the idea that I will permanently have pit stains and just be generally grumping because if the heat. Increased sweating means increased laundry, which wouldn’t be so bad if I owned more acceptable clothing. Therefore, I decided to brave the “department store” again in search of another bra, because yet another has fallen victim to thrashing puppy teeth. I walk into the first floor and there, in all its glory, is a massive pool display! It can’t be! Yes, yes it’s no mirage … kiddy pools are 50% off!
I yelled, “CASEY! COME HERE NOW!” and walked over to the display, grabbed the box, and started bouncing up and down like a little kid with a big grin on my face. WHEEEEE!
What is more perfect for these hot days than a kiddy pool?! I just stood there and stared in awe of my luck for several moments. The Hondurans in the store must have thought I was crazy. What 20-something gringa has ever entered their store and gotten that excited about a kiddy pool? I think I even squealed a couple of times.
When I got back to Kathryn’s apartment I think my look said everything; she goes, “What did you get??” I make a big deal of the reveal, whip off the bag and expose my new pool!
“KIDDY POOL!” I squeal.
“OH MAN! We’re going back to your site tomorrow and we’re going to fill it up and drink beers for our one year in country anniversary! So amazing!”
Next morning we wake up and it’s cloudy. Then a Honduran tells us that another cold front is coming through. Kathryn, in her disappoint, “Dammit! Leave it to Honduras to ruin the kiddy pool for us! Cold front! I knew it! I knew that we wouldn’t get to swim in it this week!”
Well a few hours later we’re pulling into Corquin and it’s kind of raining and getting quite cold. We walk into my house and I immediately whip out the pool and sit down in it in my house (pictures will be posted). Kathryn is taking pictures and she stops, “You know … that water heater … hot tub?”
I was right there with her, but we decided that the electricity combination is dangerous enough, but putting it in a flimsy plastic pool might be taunting fate too much.
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Next story? Well Kathryn and I were walking up to my house that day and per usual there is a Honduran male peeing outside my house. I always have this huge fear that, even though I slow down when I see them outside, that me walking really slow will still get me to my door before they’ve finished their business. I really have no desire to see random body parts … like ever and I just feel like it would be incredibly awkward for all parties involved.
Well Kathryn and I successfully avoid seeing Honduran … parts … and get to the house. Now, Bourbon is even more sick than he usually is and we were waiting for a coworker of mine to arrive to “diagnose” him and give him antibiotics if necessary. My yard looks very white trashy. Actually, my whole house. Kathryn, last time she visited me, told me I live like a bachelor. A gross mealy apple someone gave me sat on my window sill for weeks before I tossed it, and I only tossed it because Kathryn, upon leaving the last time, told me that if it was still there on her next visit that she would throw it at my head … I believed her. Therefore, when we walked in the door I discreetly chucked it out the window while she put her stuff down.
Well, I have a puppy that has an oral fixation quite unlike I’ve ever seen in other animals or humans. It doesn’t help that that my yard is filled with trash that people have been burying there over the years.
Trash in the yard + curious, chewing puppy + my lack of motivation = lots of bits of trash all over my front yard.
Apparently this bothers Kathryn and she got to picking up the trash while we waited for Humberto. You can’t watch a friend clean up your yard while you sit there, so naturally I get up to help. Well, we make our way to the fence and I grab a black, plastic bag. The immediate sensation of wetness drips down my hand and my brain wastes no time …
“CAMPESINO PEE! OH MY GOD THERE’S CAMPESINO PEE ALL OVER MY HAND!!!!!! AHHHHHIIIIYYYYYYYHHHHHHEEEWWWWWWWWW”
I take off around the house at lightning speed with the sound of Kathryn’s laughing hysterically behind me. I get to my pila and start scrubbing down both arms like I’m preparing for major surgery. The entire time I’m mumbling, “Oh man. Too gross. So not cool. CAMPESINO PEE! Oh no. Oh no.”
Several minutes later, when I feel like I’ve sufficiently disinfected myself I immerge from the house to Kathryn still doubled up outside my house laughing.
“That’s the most hilarious thing I could have ever seen.”
“Actually, no it’s not hilarious KATHRYN! It’s gross. So gross.” Again, like a little kid, I plop myself down on the porch with my arms folded and watch her pick up the rest of the trash.
For the next two days, whether it made sense or not, she often replied with, “Well you did touch campesino pee…”
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February 25th, 2010 was the official one year in country for my group! Kathryn and I were quite excited that we had work to do (which would limit the potential for depressive wallowing) and were heading up to a new community to talk to them about doing a potential study. We wake up, late after deciding not to run because it was “too cold,” and I lounge in bed a little longer than Kathryn.
“Toilet’s not running, which means there still isn’t any water. Way to go Honduras …”
I hear bustling in the kitchen and marvel at how Kathryn can read my mind and is already preparing the coffee. Love that girl! Then there’s a piercing yell!
“There’s no luz!!!! We can’t make coffee because there isn’t any electricity! KILL ME!”
That's a bit dramatic, but still ...
Now I’m really not getting out of bed. I yell from my covers, “You know what this means? This means today is going to be the worst day ever. This means that everything is going to go wrong because there already isn’t any water or luz. Now, because this is an important day for us and things already suck that means we won’t end up going out to the community. Now, we’re going to spend the entire day in my house, cold, without electricity or work. We’ll only be able to watch one movie and then spend the rest of the day wallowing in depression! I can’t handle this today!!” This was delivered in the hysterical, breathy voice that I’m sure you all can now recall fondly (hahaha!)
“Ok, calm down. That might not happen.”
In retaliation we decided to show up to the mayor’s office a half hour late as we were quite put off and Hondurans are never on time. Well, around 8:05 am the woman we were coordinating with called us. The minute Kathryn spoke in Spanish I knew it was Norma and I got unbelievably angry that they had the audacity of confronting us on our tardiness. Well, there was more. FIJENSEQUE the municipality thought that we were going to find a ride (which we’ve never done EVER in the times we’ve worked with them before!) and the muni can’t take us because their only car is in Teguz. Lovely.
“I KNEW IT!” I screech in the middle of the street as I perform the angry dance to show my distress. Kathryn shooed me away, which didn’t help matters. We were supposed to continue up to the muni to talk to her about the specifics of the project and try to find a time when we could go a different week. The entire walk up the hill (about 15 – 20 minutes) I launched into an extensive breakdown of why Honduras is doomed and all the potential ways we were going to get screwed that day. Luckily, Kathryn tried to be positive, which was better than us both losing it!
At the muni we also encountered the fontaneros (plumbers) for the water system in Corquin whom we have been working with on an improvement project for Corquin. They have been avoiding me like the plague and had more excuses that because the line was messed up at the moment it would be better for us to wait for it to get “normal” before we could continue with our work. Well that sent me off too.
“I’m hanging by a thread here man! I need work! We need to advance in something for once!! I can’t sit around anymore!!!!!!”
We talked with Norma, which didn’t really reveal much information other than she’s leaving the job and we’ll be dealing with a new guy now. We leave, broken down again by Honduras.
“What now?”
“I need coffee … Or a gun. Pick one.”
“What if someone from ODECO is going up to Joconales and could take us? I can’t sit around today. There’s no point without luz.”
“He doesn’t have a car. Maybe you should go with him and I’ll just go take a nap …” Kathryn’s glare tells me that that is an unacceptable suggestion.
“Let’s go to Casa Grande and get coffee and then we’ll figure out something to do …”
My co-worker calls and … well we got up to the aldea in maybe the most unsafe method of transportation and I can’t really publish those details here. Everyone that we passed stared to the point that they might have broken their necks.
The nice thing is that we got to do some work and the community seems very proactive. We talked to a few guys and they seem very eager to work and we made some considerable progress. I returned to Corquin with a new attitude and wasn’t breaking down into hysterical cursing every few minutes.
Satisfied with our half day or work, we crawled back into bed to watch 1.5 movies before my computer died. Usually the power comes back on around 5 p.m., but that day it came back at 3! I screeched when I noticed the lights go on. “LUZ!! We have LUZ! We can eat now! God I’m so hungry!” Why did I ever buy an electric stove?? Good things come to those who wait.
So, the day didn’t end up being too bad. Kathryn and I had a bottle of champagne to celebrate our one year in country. She wanted to open it all calm like, but I insisted that we have some sort of explosion, which seemed to suit our relationship with Honduras a little better. Now, I’ve never opened champagne before. I can’t even handle open a bottle of wine. The other week I was trying to open a bottle of wine with the little corkscrew on my Swiss army knife and promptly snapped it off (sorry Pap-Pap). This left me to come up with creative ways to get the rest of the cork out without causing major damage to myself or the bottle. It got interesting.
I did get the cork off and it went about one foot, but without the showy explosion of champagne that you see in the movies and stuff. Still, it was more exciting than slowly working it off. So, Kathryn and I spent the night with the champagne and soup while reading several month old Cosmopolitans and listening to trash rap (IE: “Apologize” Timbaland; “Got Your Money” Ol Dirty Bastard; “Crank that Spider Man” Soldier Boy”) Random, you say? Yes, but also great fun.
This morning … Well, some background information. I am a Wat/San Volunteer and I have a toilet that runs and a leaky faucet on my pila, which are the two biggest problems when we talk about wasting water in Honduras. I know, I know. I feel guilty, but not enough to overcome the procrastination to fix the faucet.
When we weren’t really getting water I loosened up the faucet so that it would let out more than the usual drip. That morning my pila was full and I decided I should reduce it down to a drip again, and as I had down the time before to tighten the faucet, I grab my hammer and start knocking the faucet around. Ok, knocking isn’t right … tapping. Well the first knock sent water spraying out from the band sealing up the connection, which got all over me. Crap. So I tapped it again. More spraying. HRMMMM. Knock a different part of it? (now I was really knocking it around). More spraying. I try a different angle and the whole faucet breaks off and I just have a huge stream of water coming out of the tube and flowing all over my back patio. Oh God. Now what?
“Oh man. Not good. Oh … I’m in trouble …” At this point Kathryn emerges from the house and is like, “What the heck did you you?!”
Then, Dimitri, who was coming over, rounds the corner and goes, “Geez! What did you do?!”
There’s me, sprayed with water, with the hammer in my hand looking like a guilty little kid. Dimitri, being my resident handyman, goes and borrows an adjustable wrench, buys a new faucet and fixes my pila. Now I’m a good Wat/San Volunteer with only a runny toilet!
We sat down to breakfast a little later and during a pause in the conversation Dimitri says, “Now in what world did hitting that thing with a hammer make any sense to you … ??”
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