I am proud to say that I have started my first topographic study as a Wat/San Volunteer in Peace Corps Honduras!
Kathryn and I started the study in Quebraditas on Tuesday. This is a small town (aldea) 45 minutes outside of Santa Rosa de Copan. Quebraditas actually already has a water system, but it’s over 20 years old (they’re designed to last for 20 years, if well taken care of) and has a lot of problems. The town is organized and the president of the Junta de Agua, Tito, is a great guy and really does a lot of good for his community. Thus, it seemed like a good project to start with.
I headed up to Santa Rosa on Monday afternoon because Kathryn wanted to play around with the equipment before we started on Tuesday. Monday night we pull out the equipment and start fiddling with the different knobs and going over the steps of using a theodolite. I really hope the people of Quebraditas never read this blog (highly unlikely that they will), but if they were to read this blog they would probably think, “Sweet Jesus, these girls had no idea what they were doing!”
It’s kind of true. There are lots of different kinds of theodolites and it just so happens that we only learned on one kind almost two months ago. Needless to say, having only spent a couple of days with the equipment in the first place, after two months we were most certainly rusty.
Kathryn and I are standing in the kitchen and we can’t figure out nine of the ten knobs that are on this piece of equipment. Luckily, a couple in Gracias had the equipment before they gave it to us, so we called them up … casually asking them what the hell was going on.
Kathryn: “Hey there guys … so Hannah and I are fiddling with this theodolite and we, well, we um … we just don’t understand what’s going on.”
B & K were really nice about trying to explain what to do over the phone, but when you’re just standing in the kitchen it’s really hard to imagine all that you would be doing and what makes the most sense. We still couldn’t figure it out after like three calls.
“Screw it, I’m going to the top,” I declared as I whipped out my phone and called Carlos, one of the wonderful coordinators on the Wat/San team (can’t remember his real title). It’s like 7:30 pm at this point and Carlos answers really quiet, like he’d been sleeping.
“CARLOS! Weneedhelp.KathrynandIaredoingastudytomorrowandwecan’tfigureoutourequipment!!!”
“Can I call you back in a little bit,” says Carlos.
“Did I wake you up? Were you sleeping? I’m sorry.”
“No … I’m in a meeting and I can’t really talk right now…”
“OOOOH! Sorry. Yeah give me a call back, because we really need to figure this out and we have no idea what is going on.”
Carlos must think I’m crazy, because I only really call him when I’m desperate for help and I’m always overly dramatic and probably sound really squeaky. Oh well.
So we keep playing with the equipment and considering I don’t even really understand all the logic and mathematics behind topo studies (that’s a little extreme, but somewhat true), I got really annoyed pretty fast. I mean, give me international political theory any day, but start talking about angles and math and you might as well try to teach a dog this stuff. Kathryn, on the other hand, has an engineering degree and it took her an extra 10 minutes to stay “screw this.”
By the time Carlos calls back I’m cursing Carl (that’s the equipment’s name) and really starting to get anxious for our first day out there. He was distracted and on his way home, and not remembering exactly which theodolite we had, he couldn’t really help us.
Come bedtime (8:30 pm) Kathryn and I had decided to leave it up to the Wat/San and Honduras gods that be and hope for the best. Pretty risky I might say.
First Day
Bright eyed and bushy tailed (not really), Kathryn and I head out to Quebraditas. We pull into the community and are met by a band of men. Seriously, like 7 – 10 men are sitting their in their rubber boots with their machetes.
Sidenote: We’re in an aldea, which are really rural communities of already rural communities. These people work day and night to barely get by supporting their family and missing an entire day helping two gringas move their equipment about the jungle is a big sacrifice for them; finding that many men willing give up a day’s work in a small town like Quebraditas is really impressive.
Tito, the president of the JAA, meets us and explains the deal. These guys know where we’re going that day and he’ll meet us in the afternoon when he brings lunch. Luckily, we got a ride up closer to the toma (source of their water), because we were in for a rough day!
We hop out of the truck and try to break the ice with our band of men by introducing ourselves and being friendly. After lacing up our hiking boots and talking about our intended path for the day, we set off. Now, the men REFUSED to let us carry anything. We had our tripod, our estadia and Carl, and they would not let us put a finger on the equipment to walk it up the mountain. Come to think of it, I’m grateful for that because I barely made it up there just carrying my Nalgene. They tried to take Kathryn’s backpack, but she refused to let it go.
Now, if we’re going up to the source of their water, we’re not going on some weeny hike in rural Honduras. We’re going UP! Actually, I don’t think we hiked that long or that it was really that far, but man did I suffer. At one point, Kathryn stops to drink water and clarifies with the guys, “Hannah and I exercise every day, but we’re just not accustomed to this!” They politely laughed and carried on. And this is something that amazes me about the men here! Here I am, walking in my state-of-the-art hiking boots and they’ve got these flimsy little rubber boots on and they have more coordination and ability on these “trails” than I do. I just don’t get it; don’t the boots give me any kind of advantage??
We finally arrive at the toma and we try to focus on the equipment so we don’t look too incompetent. Well, I’m going to save us some face and say that we finally got started after … well maybe 45 minutes. I think we took our first shot around 11:30. I was really worried at first that we were still doing it wrong, but once Kathryn stopped wanting to kill me, she explained the process better and I kind of put together how exactly all this worked together.
That’s one thing … Kathryn and I got testy with each other. We’re really similar, which never really works in a stressful situation. She had a better idea what was going on than me, but she couldn’t really explain it very well and my brain heard angles and shut down. There were some short conversations, but all ended well!
It really is upsetting that most of you will never see a Honduran wield a machete. It’s fascinating and I think more than a few times I was caught with my jaw on the floor staring. One guy chopped down a sapling in almost two chops. And the machetes don’t look very reliable, but they could filet me in seconds. Once we told them that we would need estacas (little stakes), they disappeared into the jungle and in five minutes returned with enough stakes for the entire study.
We made very little progress the first day, but at least we made progress. As time passed we got more comfortable with our band of men and Carl. One of the kids started helping up level the tripod and Luis started to laugh when I would yell, “LUIS! Pone atencion! (Luis, pay attention!). Obviously we have to be as precise as possible and I’m looking through this scope to the estadia (big stick with measurements on it) and it’s waving in the wind, because Luis is too busy eating a snack and isn’t paying attention to the estadia. Luckily, I found it pretty entertaining and he did too.
On the way back down at the end of the day, the guys started correcting us on our Spanish. Turns out pala means shovel and palo means stick. Kathryn had been saying pala the entire day and no wonder they looked at her weird, because she was technically asking them to cut shovels …
Also, at the end of the day we were invited to Tito’s house to have some coffee. We had a little glass of coffee with some bread (did I mention how much I LOVE the coffee/bread combination?? Do you realize how much better bread products are when they’re dipped in bread?? Amazing). Tito is a great guy and his family is really great too. He has seven children and we met a few of the girls and they were so friendly and welcoming. It really just makes this whole experience so amazing.
The first day was pretty boring other than the incredible stress of thinking that you’re doing the whole thing wrong. The second day we kind of hit our stride and started moving a little more smoothly. I was disappointed that we had a different crew the second day, but the new guys warmed up to us in the end; they ended up staying with us two days in a row!
Other than that, there aren’t too many stories to tell. There were a couple of funny/entertaining moments.
For example: “Fijeseque (there is no English equivalent that accurately expresses all that this word can mean) instead of going the easy way for conduction line, we’ve decided to go up this CLIFF instead… hope that isn’t a problem for you…”
“Nah, don’t worry, there’s nothing like leveling a tripod on the side of a cliff. No, esta bien!”
This is when I made-out with the theodolite. While trying to take the front shot that was a good 6 meters higher than me, I had to turn the scope as vertical as was possible, which meant my face was pushed up against Carl. Not to mention, I had to make sure I didn’t move because I was standing on soil that Band Member #1 (Eligio) had just made into a platform just big enough to fit the tripod and not really me.
Now, remember there’s a Honduran standing holding the estadia for the front shot. Considering they’re not accustomed to thinking about how the study moves or the importance of the placement of the equipment and I’m not accustomed to taking that into the account …. When I get up to my front shot, I realize that he was standing in between two trees that they had chopped down (for no reason. They were a little machete happy.) and it was going to be really hard to fit the tripod in the space. That shot backwards was interesting. While trying to avoid “killer bees” that were escaping out of the felled foliage, I straddled a massive tree trunk, all while trying to be as precise as possible with Carl.
There were several points along this 3-day study (we’re not done yet), that the guys would say, “Oh, don’t touch that. It’s going to give you a terrible skin rash.” Or, “Oh, those big bees flying around your head … yeah, they’re like bees on steroids. It hurts A LOT when they sting. Maybe you should watch out …” We were in a pretty “tropical” looking forest. There were the bright plants that National Geographic tells you means they’re poisonous and things were really wet. Closest I’ll get to a rainforest for now.
After that shot we were served lunch. The first day Tito brought us our lunch, but the two days after that his family hauled it up to us. Women in Honduras don’t hike; they don’t think it’s fun and there’s no reason to go up into the mountains, so why do it? Well, after 20 minutes from Quebraditas to this ranch, you then have another 20 – 30 minute hike upwards, through coffee farms and jungle.
Menu (it’s ridiculous):
-Fried Chicken
-FRIED potato (like baked, but really fried whole)
-rice
-4 tortillas (saucer sized)
Could you eat more carbs??
The second day, after hearing how much we liked chicken soup, three of Tito’s daughters walked all the way up the mountain with a pot of soup, rice, tortillas, orange juice (homemade), coffee and bread (for later) … in flip flops. Chicken soup here is a special meal that most people make for Sundays. It includes carrots, potatoes, yucca, chicken and it’s really good. They put rice and (of course) tortillas in it too. God, how amazing is that that they did that for us? The oldest daughter had never been that far up before, and she did it just to bring us lunch. And they weren’t resentful either; they were really genuinely ok with walking a pot of soup up the mountain.
Hah, there was another change of route that day after lunch that had us going down another steep slope. We’re walking down and Kathryn is carrying the bag with the bread, coffee, and breakable china cups. She does the classic, feet-up-in-the-air, land hard on your butt and go careening down the mountain. There was a loud clink, but luckily the cups didn’t break.
Now this was my favorite meal, because I think it added pound #3 onto the total weight I gained in these five days:
-Fried chicken
-Spaghetti
-Fried potato
-SIX tortillas
-2 liters of Pepsi
I mean, could you ask for anything more glorious than that meal?? AHH!
Last story: So Copan is big coffee country and these fincas (farms) are everyone’s salary. The coffee is their life. Coffee is a major pain-in-my-@$$. We were going at our steady (albeit it kind of slow) pace and were considerably slowed down when we entered the coffee. The first few shots we tried to work with the gagillions of branches in the way, but the shots got considerably shorter and it took a lot longer to find the estadia/back shot. Noticing the change in pace, the guys started to fell coffee left and right. I mean, one minute you’re looking through the scope and in the time it takes you to stand up and try to find the estadia with your own eyes, the guys of have felled every little twig that might have posed a problem. They cut A LOT of coffee. Luckily, Tito had permission to do so.
Anyways, Kathryn was all concerned with the amount of vegetation these men had successfully slaughtered, and knowing how valuable the coffee is, was really distressed by the amount that they eliminated.
:Sound of machete hitting wood:
“OH! No, you really didn’t need to cut the huge branch off! I don’t want you to cut so much of the plants! No! STOP IT! I can see! AWWW man…” Meanwhile, I’m just standing their laughing, because Honduras has really decreased my concern for the environment. I mean, it’s not that I don’t care, but there are SO MUCH bigger problems in these people’s lives than saving a tree that’s in the way of them receiving running water. I think some variation of this conversation (one-sided) happened with each shot.
All in all it was a great experience and Kathryn is still my friend. I hope all of my studies work with communities that organized and willing to give of their time and meager resources to bring water to their communities. We worked with a great bunch of guys and Tito seems to be a great community leader. Not to mention his family, which fed us like kings (much to the dismay of my weight loss goal) and especially to his wife, who brought us our lunch all while toting her two youngest children.
We haven’t even come close to finishing and there are ninety houses in the conduction line, but I look forward to spending time in the community and being out in the tranquil, beautiful setting that is Honduras.
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I wrote this blog about a week ago. I hope it is ok. Wednesday I went to the doctor because the rash that I had ALL OVER MY BODY (itches like crazy) hadn't cleared up and I'm not interested in getting some funky tropical disease. Anyways, turns out I was bit by fleas! I DON'T HAVE FLEAS!!! Just want to clear that up, but I did get bit and had an allergic reaction. Now I'm on medication. Great first experience! Haha
Friday, August 14, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Adventures on El Tenan
I know a few of us are starting to feel cooped up in site. For the newbies, we’re here (in site) every day, most likely only working a few days out of the week. For those who have moved to their own houses/apartments, a lot of pent-up energy can be spent buying things and improving their living space. For those of us who are still living with host families and feeling a little bit more “monitored,” the idea of staying in the house all weekend is almost unbearable. There isn’t much to do in Corquin on the weekends. During the day many people still have a lot of duties, but seeing as how I don’t have a house or a family there isn’t too much I’m committed to doing.
Point is I wanted something to do Saturday and OH did I find something to do. Kristyn and I went to hike a “peak” nearby Corquin. Kristyn did Educatodos in this aldea nearby and had always wanted to hike to the top. Not really knowing what we were getting ourselves into, we headed up to the aldea around 6:30 am. Unbeknownst to me, to get to the aldea is about 1 hour by car, and (more likely) walking about 2 hours.
Aldea: rural communities outside the more “urban” towns. Corquin is an urban town. I will do most of my work in aldeas because these are the communities that don’t have water, etc.
Jalon: Basically hitchhiking, but there it’s much more common here. For people who live in aldeas 2 hours away from any sort of stores, markets, there is always one person in the town who has a pick-up truck. When that person goes “abajo” (down) then you’re going with him. Jalons are key to getting to these more rural areas.
So Kristyn and I start walking, waiting to see if anyone will drive by and give us a lift. After a little while a pick-up stops, and Kristyn goes to climb in the front seat. As she starts to climb in, the driver picks up a small pistol and puts it in his lap. This is common, but it still kind of shocks when I see guns so proudly displayed.
The driver gives us a lift part way, and we ended up walking the rest of the way. I think it probably took us 1.5 hours. So, we were relying on being able to see the peak to guide us towards it, but there was a lot of cloud cover and we couldn’t see it at all. This resulted is us taking a lot of wrong turns and having to ask a lot of people for directions. A few people asked what we were up to (there aren’t too many gringas wandering around those parts) and we said we were hiking El Tenan. More than a few times we got the, “You’re crazy” look.
So after a few wrong turns and a lot of stares we finally arrived at the house of a woman Kristyn kind of knew. One Christmas, apparently they baked cookies together, and this woman mentioned that you can reach El Tenan from her husband’s finca. Random.
Finca: Farm. Usually finca refers to the coffee “plantations.”
So we walk up to this house, and luckily the woman recognized Kristyn. We tried to politely ask if she could point us in the right direction, but you always have to visit and a visit usually includes polite chat and attempts to feed you. It’s really understandable though, because a lot of these women are locked up in the house all day. Their husbands’ go to work at 5 – 6 a.m. usually the children go to if they’re old enough. The arrival of two American girls is pretty exciting. So we’re talking to Goita (I think that’s her name) about our plans and she insists on taking us to some other houses where there are kids who will guide us up to the top.
Meanwhile, we’re sitting in her house, and having refused any food she made us some “juice.” She goes into another room and brings out a 2 liter cook bottle full of yellowish liquid. My initial reaction, honestly, was it looked like pee. Now as we’re watching her prepare these drinks we’re talking about their water situation. Apparently, she has to go get water from a water source because a tube is broken. We watch her as she pours water out of two jugs (like the ones milk comes in).
No joke … this is how this whole scenario goes down (probably has more significance for me than the readers, but oh well.)
Goita hands the drinks to us. Oh, and the yellow liquid was honey. The juice was honey and water.
Drinks in hand, Kristyn says, “There you go Hannah, the tubes are broken. Work!”
We start politely sipping on the drinks, talking about the view and stuff. While we sit there, Goita starts closing up the house. It probably took her 30 minutes. She had to straighten everything, shut the windows, and also fix herself up. I thought she looked respectable, but we have different standards apparently. She changed her clothes and took her apron off; put different shoes on. Then, she gets a little bowl and goes to the water jugs (where our water came from) and poured a little bit into the bowl. She then disappears into a room and you hear splashing sounds.
Now I’m going to explain my thinking so that you can better understand the culture, and more so the situation. People here don’t waste anything nor do they waste their effort. If a woman were to boil 4 gallons of water, said boiled water would not, then, be used to wet her hair (this is what Goita did with the water, wet her hair so she could comb it). When Kristyn and I saw her take the water from the same jugs we immediately became panicked. We didn’t even question if the water had been boiled. And, here you can’t be sure that the people know to boil their water.
Here we are drinking water from unknown origins, not knowing if it’s purified, and we’re down to half a glass.
“Oh. Shit. Where did that water come from?”
“Why didn’t we think of that?!”
“We are so screwed. We’ve got E. Coli now.”
“Don’t say that. Oh God.”
Now, you might think this is a little dramatic, but it’s really not. I’m one of the few people in my group who hasn’t yet had food poisoning, a parasite or E. Coli. This is a real threat and it’s a nasty 3 – 7 days puking/shitting into your host family’s toilet before heading to the Health Center in your town where they pump you full of weird IVs and don’t tell you what it is. I’ve heard the stories people!!
All I could think of was, “I have a semi-full week next week! I can’t be sick! I actually have work!” Not to mention, my stomach has been a little upset the past couple of days and I can’t really tell why. I feel like its already compromised and can’t protect itself from whatever bacteria that might have been introduced by that water.
We’re about ready to leave and Kristyn and I walk out of the house, where we dissolve into a somewhat frantic discussion about the likelihood of us having contracted some pretty funky bugs. I couldn’t help but notice that Goita had a skin infection all over her hands. After having given the “water quality” charla on Monday I couldn’t stop thinking about skin infections from water. I mean, this woman washes and cleans dishes in this water all day; it’s not entirely far-fetched! We walk around the back of the house and there is a corral for horses and then up on a slope there are about 10 cows. The odds are getting worse and worse.
Kristyn turns to me and says, “I’m going to ask her where that water came from!”
I’m not quite sure if Goita understood the question, and I really hope she didn’t, because she pointed to a trickle of water that ran, no joke!, practically through the cow pasture. I groaned, “Oh. My. God. POO WATER!”
But really, the main part of this story is really the generosity of Hondurans and the random situations you get yourself into when you leave your house at 6 am without the slightest clue of where you’re going.
Goita takes us to a nice house close by, where we talk to more women about our plans. We get more weird looks. They all insist that somebody guide us up there, and I can hear someone asking boys nearby to take us. We sit there, kind of awkwardly, waiting for the boys to get their things together. As we’re waiting they gave us a really nice apple, which was pretty exciting. All the apples here come from the States and they usually aren’t very good, but this one was crisp. Apples are costly here, and it was really nice of them to give us a piece.
So the boys are ready and we depart. I really don’t think they were very thrilled about having to climb a mountain because two white girls wandered through their house to climb said mountain for fun. We start walking and I tried to strike up a conversation, but they weren’t really having it. We started walking through the coffee trees and we got to a point where there was discussion about which path to take.
“Which way are we going?” says Boy 1.
Boy 2, “This way.”
Boy 1, “That’s really ugly…” And yet we continue on that path.
I wish I could convey how incredibly steep this hike was. It was so cloudy as we were walking to the aldea that I really couldn’t see exactly what we were going to hike. After we got down I was amazed at what we had done.
We only walked about an hour, which was less than the time it took to get up to the base of the mountain. These boys must have thought we were really lame. Here we are, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and we start climbing and I’m weezing and sweating profusely within minutes. Me, being the smart person I am, decided to wear shorts. Now in my defense, my legs are sickly pale compared to my arms AND I didn’t realize we’d be climbing on our knees through coffee trees and up sides of mountains.
These boys had rubber boots on (as you can see in the school pictures) and machetes. They hauled ass up that mountain as if they were walking up a small hill. Meanwhile, Kristyn and I are practically dying behind them. But, when we reached the top it was well worth it. We were definitely at the highest point and could see all over the valley. It was beautiful, and I’d like to tell you I brought my camera, but knowing that Kristyn was bringing hers, I didn’t. Kristyn whips out the camera and it barely functions. I don’t know if the pictures will come out. I suck at life.
We stayed up there for a little bit before heading back down. On our way down I couldn’t stop laughing because we were so lame. The boys, once again, gracefully walking as if it were a paved path while Kristyn practically spent the entire time on her butt. I’m really surprised they weren’t openly laughing at us at this point. They were nice kids.
We get to the bottom and decided we should pay them because we took a good chunk of their working day away. They refused the money and walked us to the main road, knowing that we had gotten lost a lot. We bid them a fond farewell, graciously thanking them for their time and started to waddle down the hill because our legs hurt so badly.
You’d think, after having gotten lost so much in the morning that we would have been more careful about where we went in the afternoon, but that was not the case. Kristyn, I thought, knew the area a little bit, and I blindly followed her. It would make sense that, after having been on the highest peak, that you would have to go DOWN to reach the town in the valley. Well, this thought occurred to us after the road consistently starting going upwards. Going up was painful and we’d been walking for an hour already when we stopped and asked a man if we were headed in the right direction. He tells us we have to turn around and walk all the way back to some intersection and then we will find the right road to Cucuyagua! ALL THE WAY BACK! I wanted to sit down in the road and cry.
We bravely walk all the way back, which took less time now that we were going downhill. Having run out of water, we stopped at a pulperia to get some.
Pulperia: Like 7-Eleven/Wawa, but in somebody’s house. Slightly smaller selection too…
We walk in to buy water and they don’t have any! This is what happens in the more rural areas. A) Why would you BUY water when you have it in your house? B) Why would you buy water when you could drink Coke or Pepsi? This is the mentality of the people in these areas. They just don’t have the education.
“When in Rome …”
So we buy Coke and chips and start walking again, laughing at how “integrated” we are. Truly Honduran when we forgo water and veggies for Coke and chips. After a little ways we get a jalon down to Cucuyagua, buy a couple of bottles of wine, shower, and go to Laura’s house to watch movies and rest. Only 7 hours wandering around/hiking`… I got the entertainment I was hoping for.
As we’re jaloning back to Corquin Kristyn looks at me and says, “So, would we be sick already if that water was bad?”
Point is I wanted something to do Saturday and OH did I find something to do. Kristyn and I went to hike a “peak” nearby Corquin. Kristyn did Educatodos in this aldea nearby and had always wanted to hike to the top. Not really knowing what we were getting ourselves into, we headed up to the aldea around 6:30 am. Unbeknownst to me, to get to the aldea is about 1 hour by car, and (more likely) walking about 2 hours.
Aldea: rural communities outside the more “urban” towns. Corquin is an urban town. I will do most of my work in aldeas because these are the communities that don’t have water, etc.
Jalon: Basically hitchhiking, but there it’s much more common here. For people who live in aldeas 2 hours away from any sort of stores, markets, there is always one person in the town who has a pick-up truck. When that person goes “abajo” (down) then you’re going with him. Jalons are key to getting to these more rural areas.
So Kristyn and I start walking, waiting to see if anyone will drive by and give us a lift. After a little while a pick-up stops, and Kristyn goes to climb in the front seat. As she starts to climb in, the driver picks up a small pistol and puts it in his lap. This is common, but it still kind of shocks when I see guns so proudly displayed.
The driver gives us a lift part way, and we ended up walking the rest of the way. I think it probably took us 1.5 hours. So, we were relying on being able to see the peak to guide us towards it, but there was a lot of cloud cover and we couldn’t see it at all. This resulted is us taking a lot of wrong turns and having to ask a lot of people for directions. A few people asked what we were up to (there aren’t too many gringas wandering around those parts) and we said we were hiking El Tenan. More than a few times we got the, “You’re crazy” look.
So after a few wrong turns and a lot of stares we finally arrived at the house of a woman Kristyn kind of knew. One Christmas, apparently they baked cookies together, and this woman mentioned that you can reach El Tenan from her husband’s finca. Random.
Finca: Farm. Usually finca refers to the coffee “plantations.”
So we walk up to this house, and luckily the woman recognized Kristyn. We tried to politely ask if she could point us in the right direction, but you always have to visit and a visit usually includes polite chat and attempts to feed you. It’s really understandable though, because a lot of these women are locked up in the house all day. Their husbands’ go to work at 5 – 6 a.m. usually the children go to if they’re old enough. The arrival of two American girls is pretty exciting. So we’re talking to Goita (I think that’s her name) about our plans and she insists on taking us to some other houses where there are kids who will guide us up to the top.
Meanwhile, we’re sitting in her house, and having refused any food she made us some “juice.” She goes into another room and brings out a 2 liter cook bottle full of yellowish liquid. My initial reaction, honestly, was it looked like pee. Now as we’re watching her prepare these drinks we’re talking about their water situation. Apparently, she has to go get water from a water source because a tube is broken. We watch her as she pours water out of two jugs (like the ones milk comes in).
No joke … this is how this whole scenario goes down (probably has more significance for me than the readers, but oh well.)
Goita hands the drinks to us. Oh, and the yellow liquid was honey. The juice was honey and water.
Drinks in hand, Kristyn says, “There you go Hannah, the tubes are broken. Work!”
We start politely sipping on the drinks, talking about the view and stuff. While we sit there, Goita starts closing up the house. It probably took her 30 minutes. She had to straighten everything, shut the windows, and also fix herself up. I thought she looked respectable, but we have different standards apparently. She changed her clothes and took her apron off; put different shoes on. Then, she gets a little bowl and goes to the water jugs (where our water came from) and poured a little bit into the bowl. She then disappears into a room and you hear splashing sounds.
Now I’m going to explain my thinking so that you can better understand the culture, and more so the situation. People here don’t waste anything nor do they waste their effort. If a woman were to boil 4 gallons of water, said boiled water would not, then, be used to wet her hair (this is what Goita did with the water, wet her hair so she could comb it). When Kristyn and I saw her take the water from the same jugs we immediately became panicked. We didn’t even question if the water had been boiled. And, here you can’t be sure that the people know to boil their water.
Here we are drinking water from unknown origins, not knowing if it’s purified, and we’re down to half a glass.
“Oh. Shit. Where did that water come from?”
“Why didn’t we think of that?!”
“We are so screwed. We’ve got E. Coli now.”
“Don’t say that. Oh God.”
Now, you might think this is a little dramatic, but it’s really not. I’m one of the few people in my group who hasn’t yet had food poisoning, a parasite or E. Coli. This is a real threat and it’s a nasty 3 – 7 days puking/shitting into your host family’s toilet before heading to the Health Center in your town where they pump you full of weird IVs and don’t tell you what it is. I’ve heard the stories people!!
All I could think of was, “I have a semi-full week next week! I can’t be sick! I actually have work!” Not to mention, my stomach has been a little upset the past couple of days and I can’t really tell why. I feel like its already compromised and can’t protect itself from whatever bacteria that might have been introduced by that water.
We’re about ready to leave and Kristyn and I walk out of the house, where we dissolve into a somewhat frantic discussion about the likelihood of us having contracted some pretty funky bugs. I couldn’t help but notice that Goita had a skin infection all over her hands. After having given the “water quality” charla on Monday I couldn’t stop thinking about skin infections from water. I mean, this woman washes and cleans dishes in this water all day; it’s not entirely far-fetched! We walk around the back of the house and there is a corral for horses and then up on a slope there are about 10 cows. The odds are getting worse and worse.
Kristyn turns to me and says, “I’m going to ask her where that water came from!”
I’m not quite sure if Goita understood the question, and I really hope she didn’t, because she pointed to a trickle of water that ran, no joke!, practically through the cow pasture. I groaned, “Oh. My. God. POO WATER!”
But really, the main part of this story is really the generosity of Hondurans and the random situations you get yourself into when you leave your house at 6 am without the slightest clue of where you’re going.
Goita takes us to a nice house close by, where we talk to more women about our plans. We get more weird looks. They all insist that somebody guide us up there, and I can hear someone asking boys nearby to take us. We sit there, kind of awkwardly, waiting for the boys to get their things together. As we’re waiting they gave us a really nice apple, which was pretty exciting. All the apples here come from the States and they usually aren’t very good, but this one was crisp. Apples are costly here, and it was really nice of them to give us a piece.
So the boys are ready and we depart. I really don’t think they were very thrilled about having to climb a mountain because two white girls wandered through their house to climb said mountain for fun. We start walking and I tried to strike up a conversation, but they weren’t really having it. We started walking through the coffee trees and we got to a point where there was discussion about which path to take.
“Which way are we going?” says Boy 1.
Boy 2, “This way.”
Boy 1, “That’s really ugly…” And yet we continue on that path.
I wish I could convey how incredibly steep this hike was. It was so cloudy as we were walking to the aldea that I really couldn’t see exactly what we were going to hike. After we got down I was amazed at what we had done.
We only walked about an hour, which was less than the time it took to get up to the base of the mountain. These boys must have thought we were really lame. Here we are, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and we start climbing and I’m weezing and sweating profusely within minutes. Me, being the smart person I am, decided to wear shorts. Now in my defense, my legs are sickly pale compared to my arms AND I didn’t realize we’d be climbing on our knees through coffee trees and up sides of mountains.
These boys had rubber boots on (as you can see in the school pictures) and machetes. They hauled ass up that mountain as if they were walking up a small hill. Meanwhile, Kristyn and I are practically dying behind them. But, when we reached the top it was well worth it. We were definitely at the highest point and could see all over the valley. It was beautiful, and I’d like to tell you I brought my camera, but knowing that Kristyn was bringing hers, I didn’t. Kristyn whips out the camera and it barely functions. I don’t know if the pictures will come out. I suck at life.
We stayed up there for a little bit before heading back down. On our way down I couldn’t stop laughing because we were so lame. The boys, once again, gracefully walking as if it were a paved path while Kristyn practically spent the entire time on her butt. I’m really surprised they weren’t openly laughing at us at this point. They were nice kids.
We get to the bottom and decided we should pay them because we took a good chunk of their working day away. They refused the money and walked us to the main road, knowing that we had gotten lost a lot. We bid them a fond farewell, graciously thanking them for their time and started to waddle down the hill because our legs hurt so badly.
You’d think, after having gotten lost so much in the morning that we would have been more careful about where we went in the afternoon, but that was not the case. Kristyn, I thought, knew the area a little bit, and I blindly followed her. It would make sense that, after having been on the highest peak, that you would have to go DOWN to reach the town in the valley. Well, this thought occurred to us after the road consistently starting going upwards. Going up was painful and we’d been walking for an hour already when we stopped and asked a man if we were headed in the right direction. He tells us we have to turn around and walk all the way back to some intersection and then we will find the right road to Cucuyagua! ALL THE WAY BACK! I wanted to sit down in the road and cry.
We bravely walk all the way back, which took less time now that we were going downhill. Having run out of water, we stopped at a pulperia to get some.
Pulperia: Like 7-Eleven/Wawa, but in somebody’s house. Slightly smaller selection too…
We walk in to buy water and they don’t have any! This is what happens in the more rural areas. A) Why would you BUY water when you have it in your house? B) Why would you buy water when you could drink Coke or Pepsi? This is the mentality of the people in these areas. They just don’t have the education.
“When in Rome …”
So we buy Coke and chips and start walking again, laughing at how “integrated” we are. Truly Honduran when we forgo water and veggies for Coke and chips. After a little ways we get a jalon down to Cucuyagua, buy a couple of bottles of wine, shower, and go to Laura’s house to watch movies and rest. Only 7 hours wandering around/hiking`… I got the entertainment I was hoping for.
As we’re jaloning back to Corquin Kristyn looks at me and says, “So, would we be sick already if that water was bad?”
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
The Situation
So, maybe this is more for my own benefit than for the people reading. It's interesting to see how this political situation is affecting the amount of work we have. I'm excusing my lack of significant work, but also trying to understand what's going on.
Yesterday, I went with Cooperacion Espanola people to an aldea near Corquin to train them on health and their new water system. Both sides of the project were great to work with and I'm kind of disappointed I didn't have the opportunity to work with them earlier. Cooperacion is really organized and does a lot of work in the area, and after working really closely with a lesser organized Honduran development office I was pretty thrilled at their "organization." Also, on the part of the community, they were really motivated and seem like they're going to be responsible about their water system.
Actually, an "older" Volunteer did the study. He's done a few studies in my area that I've come across, and the communities are always very enthusiastic when they talk about him. He's since left, but I feel like he's haunting me!
"Do you know Engineer (they're formal) X??" they say with beaming faces.
"I know OF him, but I don't know him personally."
I feel a little inferior, because A) I'm a woman and I will never live-up to the fact he was/is male B)He just seemed to be great at getting to know communities and I'm still acquiring those skills. These are my own insecurities.
Anyways, the charla went all right. I was supposed to cover community health and how it relates to their water system. A lot of systems here are designed for the application of chlorine, but many of the communities don't use it because they don't follow instructions and put too much in. As a result, people complain about the smell/taste of the chlorine and they stop using it all together. People here still get a lot of diseases from their water because it isn't treated, and that's a really significant marker of a lack of development in a country. As a result, a lot of trainings with communities after their water systems are built revolve around chlorinating water and why they need to do these things.
Anyways, I had prepared a powerpoint (crazy, right!), but we didn't end up getting a projector and I just stood up and talked. This is never a good way to present, especially when the people don't know you/don't understand you very well. So I got a little disorganized and discouraged by that and didn't feel as great about the charla as I wanted too. I think they understood me, which is really all that matters, but I felt repetitive and really boring.
On the drive down from the community I was asking my companions how the political situation was affecting their work. They said that they have been directed to finish out their current projects, but the funding for future projects has been "frozen" until there is further word on the political situation. That seems to be the word with a lot of projects funded by foreign organizations/governments.
I was pretty surprised last week to hear that a local government in the area had stopped their projects purely because of the political situation, as they already had the funds. I thought that was interesting. What's the difference?
So I really need to push myself more. I need to make a more concerted effort to get to communities and be visible. Even if I'm not doing Wat/San work I will be visible in communities that might need water. If I get the word out then it will be easier to find projects. I can't wait for people to find me. I knew this all along, but I've got to put myself out there more, especially during this financial/political problem.
Thing is, unlike some of the other Wat/Saners, my counter-part doesn't focus on water. They're mostly agricultural projects, therefore they don't have anything to offer me themselves. What I should be doing, is going out with them and talking to people about their systems, their Juntas de Agua, and finding the problems and offering to help. This is my plan.
You know what I forgot? I am the first Wat/San Volunteer to be in this area for a while. There was Chris, but he was far away and only did a few studies out this direction. Amazing, he lived far away and had more work to do than I do, and I live right here. There's work, but because I'm a new Volunteer, people definitely need to know I'm here.
Yes, this is mostly me coaching myself, but it helps.
Yesterday, Carlos (one of the Wat/San bosses)sent out a couple of text messages asking us to respond to how the political situation is affecting our work...
"We'd like to know how this political situation is affecting your service. Are you safe? Rate High or Super busy. Challenges??"
Um ... Carlos? HELLO! Number One: I think it's unfair for the scale to only include HIGH or SUPER busy. I mean, that just makes me feel bad! There should be an option "Sitting Around With Your Thumbs Up Your Ass."
Challenges: NOBODY IS WORKING! I mean, people are working, but projects are only finishing and no one is interested on taking on new things right now. Add that to the difficulty of jumping on already started projects, and you've got a lovely mess of NO WORK!
My email to them, of course, was more polite, and I'm glad that they're inquiring. Sometimes I'm not sure that Peace Corps is really in tune to what's happening on the grass roots levels with us, but then they surprise you. They're usually just late on getting out. Actually, maybe this was prompted by FIVE Volunteers from my group leaving in the past week. Yes, FIVE!!! They're dropping like flies and it's really terrifying. I'm sad when anyone leaves, but I don't want my closer friends to go.
Well, these are the trials and tribulations of life during political instability. Actually, it's not really instability, but nonetheless things are definitely slower. Damn. Take care!
Yesterday, I went with Cooperacion Espanola people to an aldea near Corquin to train them on health and their new water system. Both sides of the project were great to work with and I'm kind of disappointed I didn't have the opportunity to work with them earlier. Cooperacion is really organized and does a lot of work in the area, and after working really closely with a lesser organized Honduran development office I was pretty thrilled at their "organization." Also, on the part of the community, they were really motivated and seem like they're going to be responsible about their water system.
Actually, an "older" Volunteer did the study. He's done a few studies in my area that I've come across, and the communities are always very enthusiastic when they talk about him. He's since left, but I feel like he's haunting me!
"Do you know Engineer (they're formal) X??" they say with beaming faces.
"I know OF him, but I don't know him personally."
I feel a little inferior, because A) I'm a woman and I will never live-up to the fact he was/is male B)He just seemed to be great at getting to know communities and I'm still acquiring those skills. These are my own insecurities.
Anyways, the charla went all right. I was supposed to cover community health and how it relates to their water system. A lot of systems here are designed for the application of chlorine, but many of the communities don't use it because they don't follow instructions and put too much in. As a result, people complain about the smell/taste of the chlorine and they stop using it all together. People here still get a lot of diseases from their water because it isn't treated, and that's a really significant marker of a lack of development in a country. As a result, a lot of trainings with communities after their water systems are built revolve around chlorinating water and why they need to do these things.
Anyways, I had prepared a powerpoint (crazy, right!), but we didn't end up getting a projector and I just stood up and talked. This is never a good way to present, especially when the people don't know you/don't understand you very well. So I got a little disorganized and discouraged by that and didn't feel as great about the charla as I wanted too. I think they understood me, which is really all that matters, but I felt repetitive and really boring.
On the drive down from the community I was asking my companions how the political situation was affecting their work. They said that they have been directed to finish out their current projects, but the funding for future projects has been "frozen" until there is further word on the political situation. That seems to be the word with a lot of projects funded by foreign organizations/governments.
I was pretty surprised last week to hear that a local government in the area had stopped their projects purely because of the political situation, as they already had the funds. I thought that was interesting. What's the difference?
So I really need to push myself more. I need to make a more concerted effort to get to communities and be visible. Even if I'm not doing Wat/San work I will be visible in communities that might need water. If I get the word out then it will be easier to find projects. I can't wait for people to find me. I knew this all along, but I've got to put myself out there more, especially during this financial/political problem.
Thing is, unlike some of the other Wat/Saners, my counter-part doesn't focus on water. They're mostly agricultural projects, therefore they don't have anything to offer me themselves. What I should be doing, is going out with them and talking to people about their systems, their Juntas de Agua, and finding the problems and offering to help. This is my plan.
You know what I forgot? I am the first Wat/San Volunteer to be in this area for a while. There was Chris, but he was far away and only did a few studies out this direction. Amazing, he lived far away and had more work to do than I do, and I live right here. There's work, but because I'm a new Volunteer, people definitely need to know I'm here.
Yes, this is mostly me coaching myself, but it helps.
Yesterday, Carlos (one of the Wat/San bosses)sent out a couple of text messages asking us to respond to how the political situation is affecting our work...
"We'd like to know how this political situation is affecting your service. Are you safe? Rate High or Super busy. Challenges??"
Um ... Carlos? HELLO! Number One: I think it's unfair for the scale to only include HIGH or SUPER busy. I mean, that just makes me feel bad! There should be an option "Sitting Around With Your Thumbs Up Your Ass."
Challenges: NOBODY IS WORKING! I mean, people are working, but projects are only finishing and no one is interested on taking on new things right now. Add that to the difficulty of jumping on already started projects, and you've got a lovely mess of NO WORK!
My email to them, of course, was more polite, and I'm glad that they're inquiring. Sometimes I'm not sure that Peace Corps is really in tune to what's happening on the grass roots levels with us, but then they surprise you. They're usually just late on getting out. Actually, maybe this was prompted by FIVE Volunteers from my group leaving in the past week. Yes, FIVE!!! They're dropping like flies and it's really terrifying. I'm sad when anyone leaves, but I don't want my closer friends to go.
Well, these are the trials and tribulations of life during political instability. Actually, it's not really instability, but nonetheless things are definitely slower. Damn. Take care!
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
ATTN: All Males (Animals and Humans!) New, Critical Information from Honduras!
My friend, let's call her Happy, is always telling me stories about the weird beliefs/superstitions Hondurans have shared with her. She seems to have encountered an abnormal amount in our short time in the country, but yesterday I finally experienced my own "weird Honduran beliefs."
Yesterday morning I was eating breakfast with a frequent guest in our little "restaurant." Considering he is a frequent guest (and apparent friend of the family), he was sitting at the family table in the kitchen. This man, he'll be named Cafe, works with a coffee cooperative in the area, and therefore is very particular about his coffee, and I might add, very-well educated.
Naturally, people here are very particular about their coffee, because we're in a major coffee producing area of the country. Many Hondurans don't understand this comparison, but the different aromas, flavors that Napa Valley so proudly cultivates in their wine resembles the importance of the cultivation of coffee in Copan. Not having been a big coffee drinker before my time here in Corquin, I did not realize that coffee taste can vary like fine wines or good micro-brews. By the time I leave here I will be well-versed in the subtle differences of coffee production in the Copan area (maybe).
In any case, considering I am not a seasoned coffee drinker (I still can't drink it black), and the amount of coffee I some times drink in any given day (it's everywhere! Like water!), I have resorted to using a non-dairy creamer in place of sugar in my coffee. It really started to add up ...
A couple weeks ago Cafe was having breakfast while I prepared my coffee and was very dismayed at my use of creamer. Being a purist, he suggested I take my coffee black, since the coffee is produced by my host mother, and apparently of exceptional quality. At the very least I should add milk or do as Hondurans do and add 5 tbps. of sugar.
Well, he yells at me not to add creamer again yesterday and he was in luck, because I had forgotten it at the office. So I add some milk and sit down at the table to drink my coffee and eat my cornflakes (yes, I have become a huge fan of cornflakes in place of the common, heavy Honduran breakfast).
"Do you know why you shouldn't put creamer in your coffee?" he asks me.
"Not really ... additives? Substitutes?" I stammer, a little annoyed that my usually solo breakfast has been interrupted for an early morning quiz. At this point, I would like to add that I really didn't know where he was going to take this. Surprisingly, Hondurans are very particular about their health, despite the amount of carbs and oil they consume in a day; on top of the 2 liters of Coca-Cola a family tends to drink at every meal. Considering their preoccupation with their "health," I was expecting something like additives producing cancer...
"Do you have a boyfriend, Hannah?" Hmm ... this is a little off topic. Not quite sure where he's going to take this...
"Yes, yes I do."
"Then don't give him the creamer in his coffee! Know why? Because creamer has the same chemicals in it that they put in fish food and cow food. Want to know what's in that food??"
Me, thinking, here we go...
"Coincidentally, I don't!"
Cafe, (with his very feminine hand gestures) says,"The food and creamer have chemicals that turn males, ALL males ... (wait for it...) GAY!!"
:Pause for reaction:
Now, I had just taken a bite of cornflakes and just about choked on them. SO NOT WHAT I WAS EXPECTING! Creamer makes ALL MALES (animals and humans alike) GAY. Yes folks, beware that chemicals exist in this world that, simply with ingestion, you will become gay. But, thankfully, it only happens to men. I mean ... where do you get this stuff?? AND, not only are our men turned gay, but fish food and cow food are contaminated as well! All our fish and cows are gay! What has the world come to?
And the thing is, Hondurans don't joke around with this stuff. He was completely serious when he told me this and was seriously concerned that I had been feeding my boyfriend creamer and that he had been turned gay.
Now, that's Honduran Tall Tale #1. Number 2 happened at the end of the day (they tend to catch you when you're most off-guard and have less energy to fight back!)
I've had meetings early in the morning the last couple of days, and considering that I'm inexplicably tired all the time, I couldn't pull my butt out of bed to get to the gym early. Therefore, I have been resorting to going at night after my English classes.
Last night, feeling a short burst of energy, I climbed on the treadmill and ran for 30 minutes. Naturally, the gym has no semblance of circulation and it's a gagillion degrees inside. People must think Americans sweat in abnormal amounts, because whenever Laura and I leave we are completely drenched in sweat.
I arrived home at around 9 o'clock, and considering I had an early morning the next day, I wanted to quickly get showered and go to bed (like 9 is so late, right?) Anyways, the Evil Bathroom continues to torture me, and I shower in a different place every day. I went to the bathroom in the kitchen to retrieve my shower puff so that I could shower in the Evil Bathroom, and encountered various people drinking their late night coffee.
"Are you going to shower????!!!!" says the nice lady who works in the kitchen.
Me, forgetting that Hondurans don't understand sarcasm, look down at my drenched t-shirt and reply, "Yes. Yes I am going to shower now."
Now, Happy had told me during field based training (FBT) that Hondurans believe that you will get sick if you take a shower at night. I was preparing my response for this superstition, when again they caught me off-guard ....
"That's very dangerous! You're "agitated" from working out. Look! You're all red! You can't get in the shower now! You'll get sick. You're :host mom: waits at the VERY LEAST 1/2 hour. You should wait until 10 pm. You should ask her!"
All the while, I'm blustering, trying to figure out how to explain that I won't fall ill if I take a shower. All the while, I'm becoming more convinced that they might tackle me if I actually try to shower before 10 p.m. Also, they told me to ask my host mom, because apparently she went to school as a nurse before she started the coffee business. I ask you ... WHAT are they teaching in those nursing schools if a professional is sure that taking a shower after exercise could make you deathly ill? WHAT??
Walking back to the Evil Bathroom, I burst into laughter, because I had a double-header for weird-Honduran-beliefs, both of which were thoroughly entertaining. I ran to try to call Happy, but her phone was off, so I called Cat instead, barely able to talk because I kept giggling.
Considering that I am typing this blog the next day, I did not get sick from taking a shower about 20 minutes after exercising. I even washed my hair!
Lesson learned in Honduras yesterday: 1) Don't let men consume creamer (if you want one for yourself) 2) Showering right after exercising is strictly forbidden. YOU WILL DIE!
Oh, I love it!
Yesterday morning I was eating breakfast with a frequent guest in our little "restaurant." Considering he is a frequent guest (and apparent friend of the family), he was sitting at the family table in the kitchen. This man, he'll be named Cafe, works with a coffee cooperative in the area, and therefore is very particular about his coffee, and I might add, very-well educated.
Naturally, people here are very particular about their coffee, because we're in a major coffee producing area of the country. Many Hondurans don't understand this comparison, but the different aromas, flavors that Napa Valley so proudly cultivates in their wine resembles the importance of the cultivation of coffee in Copan. Not having been a big coffee drinker before my time here in Corquin, I did not realize that coffee taste can vary like fine wines or good micro-brews. By the time I leave here I will be well-versed in the subtle differences of coffee production in the Copan area (maybe).
In any case, considering I am not a seasoned coffee drinker (I still can't drink it black), and the amount of coffee I some times drink in any given day (it's everywhere! Like water!), I have resorted to using a non-dairy creamer in place of sugar in my coffee. It really started to add up ...
A couple weeks ago Cafe was having breakfast while I prepared my coffee and was very dismayed at my use of creamer. Being a purist, he suggested I take my coffee black, since the coffee is produced by my host mother, and apparently of exceptional quality. At the very least I should add milk or do as Hondurans do and add 5 tbps. of sugar.
Well, he yells at me not to add creamer again yesterday and he was in luck, because I had forgotten it at the office. So I add some milk and sit down at the table to drink my coffee and eat my cornflakes (yes, I have become a huge fan of cornflakes in place of the common, heavy Honduran breakfast).
"Do you know why you shouldn't put creamer in your coffee?" he asks me.
"Not really ... additives? Substitutes?" I stammer, a little annoyed that my usually solo breakfast has been interrupted for an early morning quiz. At this point, I would like to add that I really didn't know where he was going to take this. Surprisingly, Hondurans are very particular about their health, despite the amount of carbs and oil they consume in a day; on top of the 2 liters of Coca-Cola a family tends to drink at every meal. Considering their preoccupation with their "health," I was expecting something like additives producing cancer...
"Do you have a boyfriend, Hannah?" Hmm ... this is a little off topic. Not quite sure where he's going to take this...
"Yes, yes I do."
"Then don't give him the creamer in his coffee! Know why? Because creamer has the same chemicals in it that they put in fish food and cow food. Want to know what's in that food??"
Me, thinking, here we go...
"Coincidentally, I don't!"
Cafe, (with his very feminine hand gestures) says,"The food and creamer have chemicals that turn males, ALL males ... (wait for it...) GAY!!"
:Pause for reaction:
Now, I had just taken a bite of cornflakes and just about choked on them. SO NOT WHAT I WAS EXPECTING! Creamer makes ALL MALES (animals and humans alike) GAY. Yes folks, beware that chemicals exist in this world that, simply with ingestion, you will become gay. But, thankfully, it only happens to men. I mean ... where do you get this stuff?? AND, not only are our men turned gay, but fish food and cow food are contaminated as well! All our fish and cows are gay! What has the world come to?
And the thing is, Hondurans don't joke around with this stuff. He was completely serious when he told me this and was seriously concerned that I had been feeding my boyfriend creamer and that he had been turned gay.
Now, that's Honduran Tall Tale #1. Number 2 happened at the end of the day (they tend to catch you when you're most off-guard and have less energy to fight back!)
I've had meetings early in the morning the last couple of days, and considering that I'm inexplicably tired all the time, I couldn't pull my butt out of bed to get to the gym early. Therefore, I have been resorting to going at night after my English classes.
Last night, feeling a short burst of energy, I climbed on the treadmill and ran for 30 minutes. Naturally, the gym has no semblance of circulation and it's a gagillion degrees inside. People must think Americans sweat in abnormal amounts, because whenever Laura and I leave we are completely drenched in sweat.
I arrived home at around 9 o'clock, and considering I had an early morning the next day, I wanted to quickly get showered and go to bed (like 9 is so late, right?) Anyways, the Evil Bathroom continues to torture me, and I shower in a different place every day. I went to the bathroom in the kitchen to retrieve my shower puff so that I could shower in the Evil Bathroom, and encountered various people drinking their late night coffee.
"Are you going to shower????!!!!" says the nice lady who works in the kitchen.
Me, forgetting that Hondurans don't understand sarcasm, look down at my drenched t-shirt and reply, "Yes. Yes I am going to shower now."
Now, Happy had told me during field based training (FBT) that Hondurans believe that you will get sick if you take a shower at night. I was preparing my response for this superstition, when again they caught me off-guard ....
"That's very dangerous! You're "agitated" from working out. Look! You're all red! You can't get in the shower now! You'll get sick. You're :host mom: waits at the VERY LEAST 1/2 hour. You should wait until 10 pm. You should ask her!"
All the while, I'm blustering, trying to figure out how to explain that I won't fall ill if I take a shower. All the while, I'm becoming more convinced that they might tackle me if I actually try to shower before 10 p.m. Also, they told me to ask my host mom, because apparently she went to school as a nurse before she started the coffee business. I ask you ... WHAT are they teaching in those nursing schools if a professional is sure that taking a shower after exercise could make you deathly ill? WHAT??
Walking back to the Evil Bathroom, I burst into laughter, because I had a double-header for weird-Honduran-beliefs, both of which were thoroughly entertaining. I ran to try to call Happy, but her phone was off, so I called Cat instead, barely able to talk because I kept giggling.
Considering that I am typing this blog the next day, I did not get sick from taking a shower about 20 minutes after exercising. I even washed my hair!
Lesson learned in Honduras yesterday: 1) Don't let men consume creamer (if you want one for yourself) 2) Showering right after exercising is strictly forbidden. YOU WILL DIE!
Oh, I love it!
Friday, July 3, 2009
BRING IT! - Hannah Gets Carried Away
All right, so admittedly I've been a little peeved with Honduras for the last week. Waiting to see what happens politically and not really having any work has made Hannah a little bit frustrated. It just comes and goes, and this time it seems to have come with a vengeance.
In any case, last night after English classes I went to the gym because I hadn't gone in the morning. I also hadn't gone the day before, because we didn't have water and I wasn't entirely sure how I would shower, and didn't feel like spending the day really sweaty and uncomfortable. So, I get into the gym, and there are a whole bunch of teenage guys. GREAT.
I ignore them, put my Ipod in, and hop on the treadmill. Warm-up for 5 minutes and then start running. I really needed to run with all the pent-up frustration. Within minutes of me starting to run this 10 year old boy hops on the treadmill next to me. Mind you, there are four more treadmills open around me so there is no need for him to get on one right next to me.
Now in hindsight, I might have been imagining this situation, but I'm going to tell you about it anyways. I was convinced that he was trying to race me and show me up. Here's pretty much the dialogue in my head:
"Oh, great, he's getting on right next to me. Little punk.
Oh, now we're racing? BRING IT! :couple minutes go by:
Kid, I spend 1.5 hours in the gym almost every day. I hit stride after like ONE minute! You honestly think you can take me?? PUHLEEEZE!
:Hannah continues running ... like a champ ... Boy begins to struggle:
Can't keep up, eh?"
In less than five minutes the kid gave up. You know that champion yelling/gesturing that people do when they've accomplished their life dream? Yeah, I was doing that in my head. "Take that, BICH!"
So I continue running, totally fueled by my frustration and now I've decided I have to show-up Honduran men too. Men here continue to amaze me. I walk down the street and there's, "Hola gringita! Mi amor! Vamonos a los Estados Unidos!" (Hello gringita! My love! Let's go to the U.S.)
Recently, I've been fending off the annoying advances of men I encounter every day. There is absolutely NOTHING you can tell them to back off.
"I have a boyfriend."
"Oh, come on! He's there, you're here. He'll never know! I'm worth it."
"Yes, but he's jealous. He would kill you."
"Nah, man! It's fine. Come on!"
A family friend now harasses me inside my house, which had been my haven previously.
"Hello doll! I love your eyes! Aren't I handsome! We would make a handsome pair!" He tried to give me a picture of himself dressed in 80's striped shirt, aviator glasses and bright yellow cap. I politely declined, and now it's taped to the display case where my host mom displays her coffee and coffee liquour.
"I have a car. A nice house. I have a finca (farm) with a lot of coffee. We would live a nice life!"
"Good for you! Still, no thank you."
He's now getting closer to making physical contact, which I'm not too excited about. I just don't like the fact that my house has now been invaded by men asking to be my boyfriend/husband. And this is so normal in this country that no one defends you. My host family thinks it's hilarious that there is a "swinging-door" of men coming in to harass me while I'm eating breakfast.
So needless to say I have some hard feelings towards Honduran males. As I was walking to English classes last night it was raining, and I had my umbrella up. A truck full of guys came up behind me, and per-usual slowed down to a crawl to stare at me while I walked up the hill. I just pulled down my umbrella so they couldn't see me, because damned if I'm going to feel like I live in a fishbowl. That discouraged them pretty quickly and they drove off.
Honduran Men - 0 / Hannah - 1
Back to the story ...
So the little kid disembarks the treadmill and I am feeling ever so victorious. I pump up the music and keep running. Then two more guys walk in. One, I've never seen before, but the other is that typical gym-goer type that has to show off for everyone. Considering he grew up in a machismo society, this show-off quality of his is on mega-steroids. So they walk in and start making noise, immediately seeing that the gringa was there.
Unknown Guy gets on the treadmill, again right next to me and starts to run.
"B-R-I-N-G I-T.
I know your type ... Come to the gym with your cologne on, smelling all pretty. I'm here cause I'm PISSED! I WILL kick your ass. Count on it!"
That's just a short snippet of all the stuff that was running through my head. Man, you would have thought this guy had insulted my entire family they way I was talking shit ... to myself, I might add.
After a while he goes, "It's nice to run next to a pretty girl..." I just gave that smile, "Yeah right, pal!" If he only knew what I had been so obnoxiously saying in my head.
The awesome thing was, my Ipod seemed to channel my competitiveness and created the best soundtrack. Right after Unknown Guy hopped on the treadmill, "Bitch is Back" by Elton John came on as I began to talk shit again in my head again. After that, Lily Allen "Shame for You" played, which is another good musical example of how I feel here. I may have hit "replay" a couple of times...
So, that's my story of beating Honduran men all while running off some steam about the country in general. Oh, I beat Unknown Guy. He lasted longer than the kid and started to worry me, but soon enough he fell too. He kept taking breaks. That doesn't count.
I ended up running for 40 minutes straight at a good pace (big deal for me!). By then the guys were pretty impressed and I was feeling like I'd won a gold medal. Really helped me get over my frustrations.
Honduran Men - 0 / Hannah - 3
So, if you ever find yourself in a foreign country and a little perturbed, just challenge someone to a run!
In any case, last night after English classes I went to the gym because I hadn't gone in the morning. I also hadn't gone the day before, because we didn't have water and I wasn't entirely sure how I would shower, and didn't feel like spending the day really sweaty and uncomfortable. So, I get into the gym, and there are a whole bunch of teenage guys. GREAT.
I ignore them, put my Ipod in, and hop on the treadmill. Warm-up for 5 minutes and then start running. I really needed to run with all the pent-up frustration. Within minutes of me starting to run this 10 year old boy hops on the treadmill next to me. Mind you, there are four more treadmills open around me so there is no need for him to get on one right next to me.
Now in hindsight, I might have been imagining this situation, but I'm going to tell you about it anyways. I was convinced that he was trying to race me and show me up. Here's pretty much the dialogue in my head:
"Oh, great, he's getting on right next to me. Little punk.
Oh, now we're racing? BRING IT! :couple minutes go by:
Kid, I spend 1.5 hours in the gym almost every day. I hit stride after like ONE minute! You honestly think you can take me?? PUHLEEEZE!
:Hannah continues running ... like a champ ... Boy begins to struggle:
Can't keep up, eh?"
In less than five minutes the kid gave up. You know that champion yelling/gesturing that people do when they've accomplished their life dream? Yeah, I was doing that in my head. "Take that, BICH!"
So I continue running, totally fueled by my frustration and now I've decided I have to show-up Honduran men too. Men here continue to amaze me. I walk down the street and there's, "Hola gringita! Mi amor! Vamonos a los Estados Unidos!" (Hello gringita! My love! Let's go to the U.S.)
Recently, I've been fending off the annoying advances of men I encounter every day. There is absolutely NOTHING you can tell them to back off.
"I have a boyfriend."
"Oh, come on! He's there, you're here. He'll never know! I'm worth it."
"Yes, but he's jealous. He would kill you."
"Nah, man! It's fine. Come on!"
A family friend now harasses me inside my house, which had been my haven previously.
"Hello doll! I love your eyes! Aren't I handsome! We would make a handsome pair!" He tried to give me a picture of himself dressed in 80's striped shirt, aviator glasses and bright yellow cap. I politely declined, and now it's taped to the display case where my host mom displays her coffee and coffee liquour.
"I have a car. A nice house. I have a finca (farm) with a lot of coffee. We would live a nice life!"
"Good for you! Still, no thank you."
He's now getting closer to making physical contact, which I'm not too excited about. I just don't like the fact that my house has now been invaded by men asking to be my boyfriend/husband. And this is so normal in this country that no one defends you. My host family thinks it's hilarious that there is a "swinging-door" of men coming in to harass me while I'm eating breakfast.
So needless to say I have some hard feelings towards Honduran males. As I was walking to English classes last night it was raining, and I had my umbrella up. A truck full of guys came up behind me, and per-usual slowed down to a crawl to stare at me while I walked up the hill. I just pulled down my umbrella so they couldn't see me, because damned if I'm going to feel like I live in a fishbowl. That discouraged them pretty quickly and they drove off.
Honduran Men - 0 / Hannah - 1
Back to the story ...
So the little kid disembarks the treadmill and I am feeling ever so victorious. I pump up the music and keep running. Then two more guys walk in. One, I've never seen before, but the other is that typical gym-goer type that has to show off for everyone. Considering he grew up in a machismo society, this show-off quality of his is on mega-steroids. So they walk in and start making noise, immediately seeing that the gringa was there.
Unknown Guy gets on the treadmill, again right next to me and starts to run.
"B-R-I-N-G I-T.
I know your type ... Come to the gym with your cologne on, smelling all pretty. I'm here cause I'm PISSED! I WILL kick your ass. Count on it!"
That's just a short snippet of all the stuff that was running through my head. Man, you would have thought this guy had insulted my entire family they way I was talking shit ... to myself, I might add.
After a while he goes, "It's nice to run next to a pretty girl..." I just gave that smile, "Yeah right, pal!" If he only knew what I had been so obnoxiously saying in my head.
The awesome thing was, my Ipod seemed to channel my competitiveness and created the best soundtrack. Right after Unknown Guy hopped on the treadmill, "Bitch is Back" by Elton John came on as I began to talk shit again in my head again. After that, Lily Allen "Shame for You" played, which is another good musical example of how I feel here. I may have hit "replay" a couple of times...
So, that's my story of beating Honduran men all while running off some steam about the country in general. Oh, I beat Unknown Guy. He lasted longer than the kid and started to worry me, but soon enough he fell too. He kept taking breaks. That doesn't count.
I ended up running for 40 minutes straight at a good pace (big deal for me!). By then the guys were pretty impressed and I was feeling like I'd won a gold medal. Really helped me get over my frustrations.
Honduran Men - 0 / Hannah - 3
So, if you ever find yourself in a foreign country and a little perturbed, just challenge someone to a run!
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Pensamientos
I was going to write a blog yesterday, but lost track of time and had to head out for class.
I'm really getting tired of the waiting game. We had plans to go to the hot springs on Saturday and chill out, but it looks as though Mel is trying to make everyone suffer some more and is planning on returning on Saturday. Thus, we will probably be on standby and I will not be able to leave my site. Thank you again, Mel Zelaya!
The other day I decided not to go to work (great, huh? This is one of the benefits of being a VOLUNTEER. I make my own hours!) So I was awkwardly hanging about the house, and since I cannot make tortillas (which renders me virtually useless), I was asked if I could sweep the floor. After I agree and walk away to get the broom, Albita asks me, "Do you know how to sweep the floor?" Ummm ...
Before I could catch myself, I threw my hands up in the, "Do you honestly think I'm that stupid!!!" way and walked away. I just ... I mean ... How do they think we live? Do I come off as the type of American that grew up so sheltered that I don't know how to use a broom? Or, is it that they think we have much fancier appliances to do such work. Come to think of it, I've never seen a vacuum here... HMMM.
I'd like to say that I have better things to do during a coup, but in fact I don't. Not that I would have had work, but I'm finding myself increasingly distressed by this coup and how it seems to have stopped me from feeling able to move forward in Honduras. For instance, the day that the coup actually happened and we didn't have any electricity, I could have studied Spanish or a million other things. But instead I made a necklace. Yes, I took the beads from my host mom's skirt that she didn't want and made a stunning necklace out of beads, thread and a safety pin. I think it's amazing.
The other day my site-mate commented on the necklace, and my reply was, "Thanks! I made it during the coup!" It's now my coup necklace. That would be a good name to launch a jewelry line. I've always wanted to design jewelry, but more for the purposes of just being able to create any piece of jewelry that I wanted, but wasn't rich enough to buy.
So, yesterday a couple of the girls from my area were heading up to the "post office" and I tagged along to see where it was. Turns out, the post office is really just an office in some random woman's house and she in charge of distributing the mail. I'm kind of skeptical of the whole set-up, but we chatted a bit, and of course my introduction was followed by ...
"Look how jovencita (young)she is!"
Hannah twitches.
"Yes, I look young, I know I look like I'm 17 years old, but I'm actually 23."
Trying to avoid the usual Honduran comment, "But you look like you're 17 or 18!!"
Hannah twitches.
I'm really getting tired of the waiting game. We had plans to go to the hot springs on Saturday and chill out, but it looks as though Mel is trying to make everyone suffer some more and is planning on returning on Saturday. Thus, we will probably be on standby and I will not be able to leave my site. Thank you again, Mel Zelaya!
The other day I decided not to go to work (great, huh? This is one of the benefits of being a VOLUNTEER. I make my own hours!) So I was awkwardly hanging about the house, and since I cannot make tortillas (which renders me virtually useless), I was asked if I could sweep the floor. After I agree and walk away to get the broom, Albita asks me, "Do you know how to sweep the floor?" Ummm ...
Before I could catch myself, I threw my hands up in the, "Do you honestly think I'm that stupid!!!" way and walked away. I just ... I mean ... How do they think we live? Do I come off as the type of American that grew up so sheltered that I don't know how to use a broom? Or, is it that they think we have much fancier appliances to do such work. Come to think of it, I've never seen a vacuum here... HMMM.
I'd like to say that I have better things to do during a coup, but in fact I don't. Not that I would have had work, but I'm finding myself increasingly distressed by this coup and how it seems to have stopped me from feeling able to move forward in Honduras. For instance, the day that the coup actually happened and we didn't have any electricity, I could have studied Spanish or a million other things. But instead I made a necklace. Yes, I took the beads from my host mom's skirt that she didn't want and made a stunning necklace out of beads, thread and a safety pin. I think it's amazing.
The other day my site-mate commented on the necklace, and my reply was, "Thanks! I made it during the coup!" It's now my coup necklace. That would be a good name to launch a jewelry line. I've always wanted to design jewelry, but more for the purposes of just being able to create any piece of jewelry that I wanted, but wasn't rich enough to buy.
So, yesterday a couple of the girls from my area were heading up to the "post office" and I tagged along to see where it was. Turns out, the post office is really just an office in some random woman's house and she in charge of distributing the mail. I'm kind of skeptical of the whole set-up, but we chatted a bit, and of course my introduction was followed by ...
"Look how jovencita (young)she is!"
Hannah twitches.
"Yes, I look young, I know I look like I'm 17 years old, but I'm actually 23."
Trying to avoid the usual Honduran comment, "But you look like you're 17 or 18!!"
Hannah twitches.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Lentil Soup
My appreciation for the randomness of Honduras waxes and wanes depending on the adventure it throws at me. At times the adventures are difficult, and other times they are rewarding, for example, offering up lentil soup.
The other day I was waiting in the Parque Central for the kids to show up to English class, and this man approached me. He looked Catracho, and spoke Spanish, in which he asked what the park was called. I replied, that as far as I knew, it was just Parque Central. At which point he switches to English, and begins to explain that he is Indian, lived in the States for several years and then decided to move to Honduras. He has been living here for almost two decades, and does research/practices natural medicine.
Anyways, during the conversation he mentioned that he has an apartment in Corquin that acts as his vacation home. Having mentioned earlier in the conversation that I was looking to rent places, he offered to rent me his apartment.
Well, today I went with him to see the apartment. It's actually pretty far out of Corquin so unfortunately I won't be able to rent it, but the experience that resulted was interesting.
I honestly wasn't sure of him in the beginning, because he whipped out his stock investments in the park, which, why do I need to see those? I also am a bit wary of people who directly question you about your religious beliefs and other more personal topics of conversation I generally reserve for closer friends. Nonetheless, he seemed like a harmless guy, and against all better judgment from Juan Carlos (Security Director of Peace Corps) I got in his car to view this apartment.
Again, alarm bells when he had me read the "testimonies" as to the success of his natural remedies, but we went to the apartment and were only there for five minutes before we drove off again. "That was easy," I thought. And then (and this amazes me that I didn't understand even though we were talking in English) if I wanted to go to the next town, and I agreed. I have to admit that I was hoping we were going to get lunch. Well we went farther, but turns out he just needed to go to a hardware store.
Anyways, this entire time we're talking about the events of yesterday and what we've observed/experienced in Honduras. So he asks if I would like one of his natural remedies to cure stomach problems, and I sheepishly accept. Why I do this to myself, I don't know. I mean, for all I know it was that crap from the movies that they put over your nose/mouth and you immediately pass out... my imagination sometimes strays... but you never know!
Well, in the process of getting my cure-all potion, I am offered delicious lentil soup, which leads to more political discussion, a stock investment lesson, and eventually suggested philosophies on life ... The lentil soup and political discussion was lovely. The soup satisfied cravings for food other than beans, cheese and tortillas, and the political discussion catered to my need to get other people's opinions on the current events in Honduras.
And that was my afternoon, in short.
The other day I was waiting in the Parque Central for the kids to show up to English class, and this man approached me. He looked Catracho, and spoke Spanish, in which he asked what the park was called. I replied, that as far as I knew, it was just Parque Central. At which point he switches to English, and begins to explain that he is Indian, lived in the States for several years and then decided to move to Honduras. He has been living here for almost two decades, and does research/practices natural medicine.
Anyways, during the conversation he mentioned that he has an apartment in Corquin that acts as his vacation home. Having mentioned earlier in the conversation that I was looking to rent places, he offered to rent me his apartment.
Well, today I went with him to see the apartment. It's actually pretty far out of Corquin so unfortunately I won't be able to rent it, but the experience that resulted was interesting.
I honestly wasn't sure of him in the beginning, because he whipped out his stock investments in the park, which, why do I need to see those? I also am a bit wary of people who directly question you about your religious beliefs and other more personal topics of conversation I generally reserve for closer friends. Nonetheless, he seemed like a harmless guy, and against all better judgment from Juan Carlos (Security Director of Peace Corps) I got in his car to view this apartment.
Again, alarm bells when he had me read the "testimonies" as to the success of his natural remedies, but we went to the apartment and were only there for five minutes before we drove off again. "That was easy," I thought. And then (and this amazes me that I didn't understand even though we were talking in English) if I wanted to go to the next town, and I agreed. I have to admit that I was hoping we were going to get lunch. Well we went farther, but turns out he just needed to go to a hardware store.
Anyways, this entire time we're talking about the events of yesterday and what we've observed/experienced in Honduras. So he asks if I would like one of his natural remedies to cure stomach problems, and I sheepishly accept. Why I do this to myself, I don't know. I mean, for all I know it was that crap from the movies that they put over your nose/mouth and you immediately pass out... my imagination sometimes strays... but you never know!
Well, in the process of getting my cure-all potion, I am offered delicious lentil soup, which leads to more political discussion, a stock investment lesson, and eventually suggested philosophies on life ... The lentil soup and political discussion was lovely. The soup satisfied cravings for food other than beans, cheese and tortillas, and the political discussion catered to my need to get other people's opinions on the current events in Honduras.
And that was my afternoon, in short.
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