It's been a while since I've stopped in to let you all in on my life in Honduras but since I have one month left in country I felt it was about that time. This post will be based on the men of Honduras...the good the bad and the ugly.

Let me just say that in my town there is not much eye candy. The men here are either married with lots of kids, town drunks, or my colegio students. I recently received a phone call from a mysterious man named Oscar who apparently lives in the next aldea over and is "in love" with me. I responded to this phone call by telling him I had no idea who he was and so it was impossible for him to be in love with me. Something tells me he probably sat in on one of my condom demonstrations during an HIV prevention charla.

Those of you that know me are well aware that I have not dated anyone since coming to Honduras. Mainly because I have not been attracted to anyone. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that the men here are ugly. I'm just saying that the majority of men here are under 5'5'', usually missing a few teeth, work really hard in the fields with limited access to showers (meaning their smell leaves some to be desired), like to show off their panzas and in general just look like they've lived a hard life.

I had basically given up on the idea that I would meet a Honduran man who could light my fire. Then a friend from the states came to visit me and we decided to venture over to the beautiful island of Utila. Turns out that all the good looking men have been hiding out on this little oasis. Obviously I was in heaven as every man I met got better looking - and spoke English so I didn't have to make an ass out of myself trying to communicate in Spanish. These guys had great smiles with full sets of teeth, muscular builds, were tall, and for those of you who judge a man by his hands (sweet Jen!) had very large and strong hands.

So for all those volunteers that have given up on Honduran men...go to Utila. Go scuba diving, watch some sunsets, drink yourself retarded, dance yourself clean, and enjoy the views!

Shot time!!!

Bichos Muertos is the name of a game I play with my students after I give a charla. The purpose is to review material discussed that day by making teams race against each other to answer questions I ask. To mix it up a little I’ll sometimes ask them to bring me back something other than an answer. For example, a shoe, a watch, a cell phone, until finally the last thing is a dead bug (bicho muerto). It’s a lot of fun and my kids LOVE it.

However, in my house this game takes on a whole new purpose and love is not the word I would use to describe it. Basically, I kill any and all living creatures that enter my home. I know it sounds cruel, but as a single lady living in a tiny village in the middle of Honduras it must be done.

Let’s talk about all the fun creatures I’ve had the pleasure of meeting while innocently hanging out in my house.

Geckos – these are one of the few animals I let live and mostly because they help eat things that like to bite me such as mosquitoes, ants, and spiders. I can stare at these little guys for hours. I once even got a late night ‘Skinemax’ showing of two geckos enacting in foreplay. It involved strobe light flicks of the tale, cat and mouse chases, and catcalls from both parties. It entertained all the lucky volunteers who stared at the ceiling for probably an hour mesmerized in disbelief by the gecko porn we were watching.

Millipedes – my new farm house was infested with them when I first moved in. I even looked up how to get rid of these creepy crawlies only to discover it involved filling any cracks in the house and eliminating any leaks. Good luck finding that house in Honduras – it does not exist. Luckily the numbers have significantly dwindled upon my first couple weeks in the house.

Wasps – I have some of the biggest wasp nests hanging from my roof outside. For obvious reasons I do not disturb the nests and only spray with raid the small nests that are inside my windows. The screens protect me from any angry wasp retaliations.

Tarantulas – I was reading a book on my bed when I looked over and saw a tarantula the size of my fist taking a late night stroll across my floor. Only slight panic escaped me as I scanned my room looking for the answer. I was unable to put up my mosquito net because of my cement walls & roof so I decided it had to die. I squashed it with my hiking boot. Then I left it there so the ants could devour it, and that they did. There must have been a thousand ants that came to eat its remains – by morning there was not a single trace of the tarantula.

Scorpions – My first experience occurred in my host family’s house in my bathroom. I rounded the corner and stopped dead in my tracks as I saw a creature I had never seen before in person. I ran back into my bedroom, frantically called two other volunteers to discuss my options, put my rain boots on to prepare for war and then searched the bathroom to find out where it had run off to. I found it under a suitcase and smashed it with my hiking boot. I think I’ve used these boots more as killing tools here in Honduras than I’ve used them to actually hike.

The next experience was much calmer. I spotted the scorpion walking across my living room floor, snapped a couple of photos of it, and then crushed it under my flip-flop.

However, my most recent experience did not go so smoothly. I put on my backpack and had just walked out of my house. As I bent over to pull my keys out to unlock my fence, a scorpion fell directly from my shoulder area into my sports bra. Throwing all my bags to the ground, I bent over grabbing at my shirt and bra trying to coax it out. I think all the jiggling only scared it further into my bra unbeknownst to me. Although I did not see it fall I could not see or feel the scorpion in my bra so I decided it was safe to pick my bags back up and walk to the bus. Ten minutes later I got to my bus, found a seat near the back and tried to calm myself down. But then I looked down and noticed legs poking out of the top of my shirt. Holding for dear life nestled comfortably between my breasts this little guy was not going anywhere. I silently scream to myself so as to not draw any more attention to the only gringa on the packed bus and was finally able to flick him out of my bra. Thankfully I received no stings and only exposed my breasts to a couple of people from my community.

Snakes – I had been sewing a baby blanket for a couple of Peace Corps volunteers that had accidentally gotten knocked up while down here in Honduras, so at the time my floor had a lot of scraps of fabric in random places. Even though I had just swept, the long dark thing on the floor didn’t set off any alarms because I thought it was just a scrap I had missed. Then I stared at the fabric and it occurred to me that maybe it wasn’t a piece of fabric. Nope, the more I stared the more it began to resemble a snake. Yep, definitely a snake. I found my camera and returned as it coiled into a ball and allowed me to snap a quick photo of it. The flash freaked him out and sent him slithering into a corner of my living room. Since I have no idea how to identify a poisonous snake I decided it had to go. Unfortunately I feel too guilty to tell you how I got rid of the snake. Just know that some other animal(s) had some enjoyable feasts off of its death.

Ants – There are so many types of ants down here it’s crazy. You have the tiny almost microscopic ants that cover any dish that food once touched. You have the bigger sugar ants. Then there are the mean black ants that love to bite and the larger carpenter ants. There’s also the leaf cutter ants that become violent when disturbed. Finally my least favorite ant of all – it’s the flying ants. They are so obnoxious! These ants lay eggs inside walls and doors and then all hatch at once during one lucky sundown and begin flying around your house and ceiling all at once. With hundreds of ants flying around and trying to get into your food, drinks and in your face it gets a little crazy as you’re left to run around with one hand occupied spraying raid everywhere and the other hand swatting down the ants. The only plus side of this is you get in a good workout trying to rid your house of these crazy things.

These are just a few of the animals that I deal with on an almost daily basis. I can’t even describe the number and or size of the wolf spiders I have in every corner of my house.

Can’t wait to discover what’s in store for tomorrow. I’m hoping I’ll come home one day to find a cow in my house like I saw in one house they’re building down the street. At least then I won’t have to kill it.

After mas o menos 30 hours without power, it has returned and I have decided what better time than 2:30AM to update my blog.

For those of you who know me even a little know a few basic rules of what not to do. Unfortunately, due to cultural differences and language barriers, Honduras has not yet clued in to them.

Rule Numero Uno: Think of me as a bear...a bear in hibernation. You do not want to be on the receiving end as the person who wakes me up. Over the past couple of weeks I've been fighting a cold/allergy sinus infection. It finally caught up to me and I called into the health center in the morning to cancel a class I was giving that day. Having taken all the necessary steps of a sick day (i.e., I called into work to let them know I wasn't coming in instead of just not showing up), I took some nyquil and passed out. A few hours later I'm startled out of my sleep by some honking. Hmmm, weird. I recently moved into my new house and was exstatic to not be on any major roads. The only vehicles that pass in front of my house now are those of the four-legged kind. So, clearly this is a surprise to me. Then I hear a couple coworkers from the health center yelling my name. I groggily make my way to the window to discover yes indeed it is my coworkers yelling and honking at me in front of my gate. Still in my pajamas I hastily look for a jacket and shoes and trek outside where it's pouring rain. Still half asleep and very pissed off I go to the gate where my coworkers are happily sitting in their truck (i.e., not sick and standing in the rain in their pajamas) to find out what's the emergency. Yeah, they're just stopping by and want to come in - did I mention they brought my town's Cuban doctora with them. I am horrified. The last thing I want is for my coworkers to see me looking as horribly as I felt or see my somewhat disordely house. I politely, okay as politely as a bear woken out of hibernation, ask them to leave because I wasn't up for visitors. Really? As if that needs to be said. Well, now I'm left to clean up my mess of being the very rude and unhospitable gringa who turned away my coworkers who just stopped by to make sure I was okay. In their defense there are cases of hemorrhagic dengue going around the municipality and they were only looking out for my well-being. In my defense, DON'T DISTURB THE BEAR.

Rule Two: Men - stop being creepy. Married, single, fathers holding their infants in front of their wives/girlfriends, high school boys, elementary school boys, etc., stop trying to pick me up. And stop trying to pick me up in English. The words you are using but clearly have no clue what they mean are highly offensive and I will not stand for it. Just treat me with respect and I'm likely to stop and have a conversation with you.

Final Rule: Don't cut me in line. Hondurans really have no sense of waiting in lines and frequently try to cut. Bus lines, checkout lines at the grocery store, lines at the bank, etc. They love to cut. I didn't learn how to box out from one of the best defensive coaches in basketball, a.k.a. Bob from the Kansas Belles, for nothing. I will hip check you into tomorrow if you try that move on me. Not gonna have it any more!

And that's it. Pretty simple. Wow, this seems like an angry blog post. In reality, I'm not angry at all right now. This helped. Thank you and good day. I SAID good day.

The past five months have been a whirlwind of adventure. Here´s the 4-1-1

Mafia Warfare:

My town of Gualaco was caught in the middle of a power-struggle of two rivaling families in Olancho. It consisted of a hitman and four other accomplices being dragged out of their houses during midday on a Sunday only to be led to their deaths. They were taken into the mountains and shot and then the car was set on fire as the assailants fled the scene. This led to a roadblock of about 20 armed men -none were police- being set up in order to catch the assailants. Upon nightfall, a family was passing through and got scared. Unfortunatly, they decided not to stop and were shot down. All the men (including some young teens) in the car were killed or injured, but the women were left unharmed. At this point around 20 deaths had occurred in a 24-hour period and Peace Corps decided to temporarily remove me and the other two nearby volunteers from site. I had the great luck of being sent up to Trujillo where much of my downtime was spent relaxing in a hammock on the beach. The day before we were to receive word as to whether we could return to site or not, a 20-minute shoot-out occurred in the middle of my town and a few more people died. Obviously Peace Corps said we could not go back yet and continued to monitor the situation. About two weeks later when things had cooled down Peace Corps gave me the option to return to site or have a site change. Given that I had never felt unsafe in my community (aside from some moments when the Coups started), I asked them to give me two weeks where I could return to site and see how I felt. Upon returning, I realized my town had this eeiry ghost town feeling where everyone seemed to be afraid to leave their houses even during daylight hours. After a week I started to get in the groove again and things started to feel better. That night three truck loads of armed men began driving through our community, including in front of my apartment, searching for men to kill who were on their hit lists. After this, I decided it was too much. I asked Peace Corps to change my site rather than wait around for another shoot-out to occur.

Site Change:

My new town is still located in the department of Olancho, about two and a half hours southeast of Gualaco. Unfortunately, I am no longer located in the mountains. Instead I am in a very hot valley between two mountain chains. Good bye to cool nights and a very nice studio apartment. My town is much smaller and rural than my last site, but still just as dusty. After only a couple days I had a mental breakdown that involved me sobbing to my mother over the phone while she talked me down from the ledge. As of now I have been in my new town for almost two months and the town is slowly growing on me. I am with my fourth, and hopefully my last, host family. They have a really nice house and have been very good to me. My spanish is improving ever so slightly and I am located only 15 minutes from the city of Catacamas meaning I have access to better food and other volunteers. I have a lot of work in my new town as I have been training the older students to help me out with my health charlas in the high school. Also, I am now teaching basketball and volleyball gym classes once or twice a week. This involves lots of yelling, dragging kids to participate in my drills since they can´t understand my broken spanish, and lots and LOTS of sweating. The kids seem to really like it though and have a lot of fun. Considering the only sport played here is soccer it´s a nice change of pace for the kids.

Despedidas Galore:

The H12 training class that came in a year before us are no longer volunteers. They have graduated from their services. Many are traveling to different parts of central and south america, many are returning home to the glorious and ever-so-comfortable U.S.A., and a few are remaining in Honduras to continue their service or find local non-Peace Corps work. It´s sad to see them go, but even more sad to know that it will be us next year. This past year has gone by so fast and through the good and bad, I cannot imagine being anywhere else. Good luck to all those who have gone and to the rest of us left.

I realize I have been slacking on the posts so here is a SUPER-post in which I will recap some major events that have occured during the last 4 months.

TRAVEL...I have traveled now to almost all of the departments of Honduras; just five more to go. I´ve visited the beautiful beaches of Trujillo a few times (what I like to consider my second site), canoed on Honduras´ lovely Lake Yojoa, and spent Halloween at the Mayan Ruins. Most recently I was at the Lake for Thanksgiving, cooking and laughing with my fellow volunteers. Although it wasn´t exactly the home cooked meal with the fam that I´m used to, it was a wonderful time had by all AND included some great food. I was also lucky enough to be able to leave the country to visit my family in the States. Trust me when I say lucky; just days before leaving a national 24-hour curfew was implemented and all us volunteers were put on STANDFAST. The curfew was brought on due to the extradited President, Zelaya, sneaking back into the country and holing himself up in the Brazilian Embassy. We were not allowed to travel or leave our sites. The airports closed and all flights were cancelled. Thankfully the day before my flight, the curfew lifted allowing me just enough time to travel to San Pedro Sula and catch my flight the next morning.

WORK...this will be a short one. Schools closed early for the National elections, and by early I mean in October. Upon arriving back in the country from the U.S., I realized I would not be doing any more health charlas in the school and have spent the last few months trying to figure out how to make myself useful. Currently I am working with some girls from my town teaching them to create beauty from trash. We are making purses and jewelry out of potatoe chip bags. I am also learning how to weave baskets out of pine needles.

RELATIONS...I spent almost a month in the States nursing my mother after she had surgery. It was a taxing but enjoyable time being able give back to my mother for all those years she took care of me. However, my time abroad meant lots of time for my town to make up lavish gossip as to why I was ¨really¨ away. My favorite being that my sitemate, a.k.a. the OTHER gringo, got me pregnant and I had to leave Honduras in order to have the baby. Gotta love chisme. Needless to say, I spoiled that upon my arriving back in site without a baby bump! More volunteers from both my project and my cohort have up and left Peace Corps for various reasons. Medical and lack of work seem to be the most at fault. However, I´m sure being in a country during times of political rest, aka The Coup, has had its share of influence. I´m still working on making a Honduran friend, which is more difficult than it sounds. You risk being considered a hussy if you befriend men and I have little to offer in terms of conversation for all the married mothers my age. Currently my friends are my 14 year old host sister and my 50 year old comedora (lady who cooks for me when I want plato tipico). Here´s hoping for 2010!

FIRE...unfortunately, the sun isn´t the only source of me sweating. On my way back from visiting the Peace Corps doctors in the Capital I caught the last bus back to my site and about an hour into the ride the engine caught on fire. Luckily I was sitting next to the fire exit, but unfortunately in the panic I forgot I was sitting next to it. Being in the middle of the bus I examined my escape routes...run towards the large flames in the front or towards the back where I´d have to fight my way through all the giant bags of rice and beans that were blocking the doors. Luckily I didn´t have to make a decision because the bus ayudante had a bucket of water that he threw onto the flames. The next day my shower almost caught on fire as it sparked and burnt part of the plastic nozzle. I now shower with my power turned OFF in my apartment. So much for having an electroducha to warm my water. Feel free to send me a fire extinguisher for Christmas.

FOOD...I accidently broke my mini-refrigerator that cost me about three months rent when I took a knife to it. I was trying to chip away some of the excess ice in order to make room for the boneless skinless chicken that I bought while in the larger City. Unfortunately, I also chipped away part of the tray causing all the freon gas to be released. I am very sad. But on the brighter side, I was able to cook up the chicken with barbecue sauce and had some tasty chicken for ONE whole day. It was beautiful.

I think that should do it on the recap. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I´m enjoying my time here in Honduras.

Happy Holidays!

After finally having the clearance to travel outside of our departments, it was revoked two days later. Things around my town have slowly become more and more confortbable...that was until I read the news reports today and discovered that tension is once again heating up. Just when I finally unpacked my evacuation backpack Peace Corps Honduras´s future once again looks dreary. We´re getting no official reports of being evacuated, but all the news reports suggest future conflict. At this point in time, your guess is as good as mine as to whether or not things will settle down.

Since there has been very little work for the vast majority of volunteers, we have resorted to using theme parties as a way to pass the time. Our first party was ¨Ropa Americana¨theme, which translates loosly to anything American thrift stores were unable to sell, followed by 80s Prom Night. As you can imagine, Olancho was able to see some fantastic costumes by the gringos. Special appearances were made by Don Johnson, Samantha Fox, a Lenny Kravitz whannabe Michael Jackson, Sixteen Candles´very own Long Duck Dong along with a mix of see-through mesh spandex and neon-sheen puffiness. It was AMAZING.

Thankfully my spirits have picked up since classes began today after a three weeks of strikes. With my first HIV charla in site planned for this week, I´m hoping work picks up too. However, things have not been easy. My health project team has lost 6 volunteers so far (and we´re only 5 months into our Peace Corps service). Since we only started with 14 the health team is desperately holding together. In addition, two others from the health team are having to be moved due to safety concerns in their sites. They are some of my closest friends (both in terms of distance outside of Olancho and relatonships) so I´ve had my share of low points. However, I´m relying on lots of phone calls and visits with other volunteers within Olancho to keep me going.

As especially described in my last two posts, this rollorcoaster is taking me for a ride. I´m hanging on though and for the most part am enjoying the ride. I´m thinking of you all and want you all to know I am safe and staying strong. I miss you all. Stay tuned for more Worlds of Fun fun!

Michael Jackson

In the shadow of Michael Jackson’s death, many of you might still be unaware that Honduras is experiencing political turmoil in the likes that it has not seen since the last Cold War. Last Sunday around midnight the President, Jose Manuel Zelaya, was arrested and exiled to Costa Rica in his pajamas. This military coup occurred on the eve of a referendum that would have allowed Hondurans to vote to change the Constitution that currently only allows a President to serve a single term of four years. The referendum was to change the Constitution to either allow a second term or unlimited terms. With the Congress and the Military against Zelaya, they deemed the referendum to be unconstitutional. Instead of going through the democratic process of impeachment, the Congress decided to take him out and put Congress in command.

As you can imagine, Hondurans and the Peace Corps Volunteers are in a minor state of distress. Military police are making their rounds through towns confiscating weapons and arresting boys and men between the ages of 15 and 45 to draft them into the military. I walked out of my house today to find the streets eerily empty and everything closed down. Even the three donkeys that hang out around the corner were no where to be found. Now how am I supposed to escape if even the donkeys are out of business? Bus tires have been slashed and roadblocks have been placed throughout the country to prevent protestors from entering the Capital. I walked hesitantly down the block expecting for a truck load of armed soldiers to turn the corner and force me to fight for the Honduran army. I’m prime real estate down here considering I’m bigger than most Hondurans.

The U.S. and the U.N. are calling for Zelaya to be reinstated and there is talk of Zelaya coming back on Thursday with military reinforcements from Venezuela. The Congress has not backed down and is threatening to arrest Zelaya upon reentering the country. All signs are pointing to a showdown with opponents on both sides. I live in Zelaya country considering he is from Olancho and the people are very upset with his arrest. The anti-Zelayas support the Congress’s actions as they feel Zelaya was leading Honduras down the path of a dictatorship.

At this point in time, I feel a possibly false sense of security. Although my community feels safe, the frequent calls to other volunteers and family members have me on edge. Just about every hour my phone rings or I get a message from other volunteers and we discuss what crazy things are going on in each of our towns. My one bag that we´re allowed to take if evacuated is packed as I wait for the text message saying we´re heading to Panama to wait till things calm down. The last few days I’ve holed myself up in my room surviving on mangoes and peanut butter.

Meanwhile, the new training class of volunteers that was scheduled to arrive in Honduras on WednesdayonHon is heading off to the Dominican Republic to wait this ordeal out while the rest of us currently serving volunteers stay the course! I guess this is what they meant by the slogan “How far will you go?” Well, I think a few earthquakes, a pandemic flu outbreak, and now a military coup is pretty damn far? Especially, considering I haven’t even been here for five months.

I hope you all enjoy your Fourth of July weekend, but remember the 200 or so volunteers here in Honduras who are on lockdown waiting to see how this crisis plays out. Here’s hoping that my next post will be written under much calmer and happier circumstances.

Nearby villages I visited to hand out seeds for growing vegetables and talk about their health needs

My home for the next two years!

When I hit the point where I thought I could take no more, the twelve weeks of never-ending technical training and Spanish classes have finally come and gone and I am now officially a Peace Corps volunteer! After an awkward day of meeting my counterpart for the first time and forgetting all my Spanish upon being introduced and having 5 LONG hours of classes with my counterpart after being sworn in as a volunteer at the American Embassy, I found myself frantically searching for my fellow volunteers to get a final hug and dish out words of encouragement before entering the next stage of my voyage. With tears in my eyes and thoughts of terror in my mind, I dutifully packed my bags and prepared myself for the lonesome trip I would be taking to my site in the morning. Heading out to what is known as the Wild Wild West of Honduras, I took one last eventful ride in the Peace Corps vehicles –whipping around the mountainous roads, holding onto the other volunteers and praying that none of my bags would be sacrificed from the tops of the vans and into the abyss below. Upon arriving in Tegucigalpa, my poor counterpart was forced to help me lug all my crap to the bus station heading for Olancho. Thank you PC for giving us so many books and manuals – I arrived in country with three bags and now somehow have eight bags due to all of the materials I have received while in country.

Shortly after noon I arrived in my site to be slapped back into reality that yes I am in Honduras and yes I am in the Peace Corps. As I patiently waited for my third and final host family to find the key to my room I began chatting it up with several high school students who also rent rooms from my family. After about 30 minutes my little host brother somehow managed to open up my door sin llaves and I got a glimpse of my glorious room. Stark empty except for a rickety old bench and the dried blood stains from all the mosquitoes killed on the walls I begin laughing to myself thinking this must be a mistake. I can’t remember how many times PC staff reminded us that we volunteers are spoiled by our families in field based training and it’s not the reality once we get to site. But come on, I didn’t expect to be sleeping on the floor with the creepy crawlies. I don’t even have a sleeping bag. After about an hour and realizing that yes this is indeed my room I decided to be the rude American and ask my host mother if I would be getting a bed. She politely informed me that it would cost an extra 100 lemps so I politely informed her that I would have to check with Peace Corps since they approve our housing allowances. Then after another ridiculously polite conversation with Peace Corps things seemed to be straightened out and a bed was placed in my room!

Other than a few very awkward days, I am happy with my site. It is located in a picturesque part of the country – in many ways it reminds me of the Appalachians. I am surrounded by beautifully lush green mountains and live in a quaint little town that has plenty to offer including two hotels. That’s right, you all can come visit me any time you like; for a few American dollars you too can experience my life as a volunteer! I know all of you are jumping out of your seats to come experience the ice cold bucket showers, raw meat being dried on the same lines as your clothes, and hours spent hand washing your clothes only to spend days drying on the clothes line because of the torrential down pours of rain that occur every few hours. I expect only the true adventure seekers to trek it down south to my parts of the woods. For those of you who can do without the commodities listed above, I do live only a few hours from the beautiful beaches of Trujillo and the North Coast. I can always meet you up there – just not in the next three months as we new volunteers are not allowed to stay out of our sites overnight until August 15.

Until then I’m sticking it out and getting along just fine down here. Hope you all are doing the same!

As I’ve done in my other posts here is a list of my oh-so-awkward yet still amusing experiences:

· I most recently saw my male landlord sitting on the toilet as I walked into the courtyard of our house. And yes, we made eye contact as he slowly closed the door to the bathroom and I embarrassingly stared at the ground.

· After waking up one morning all groggy and blurry eyed I almost ran smack dab into a piece of raw meat hanging on the clothes line as I was walking to the bathroom. Talk about a health risk!

· It took me 5 days to have a bowel movement upon moving to my new site; and in case you hadn’t noticed, among us volunteers talking about our bowel movements is as common as talking about how are days went.

· At the house where I go to eat, I was lucky enough to watch a mouse scale down the wall, which occurred again around the same time the following day. I never new mice could crawl on walls.

· Again at my place of eating, I watched a large and very alive chicken jump on the kitchen counter and eat leftovers off of the plates in the sink.

· During the hottest part of the day, the lock on my door broke and I was temporarily locked in my room while my sister climbed in through the window only to discover that yes I indeed was stuck and she too was unable to open the door. Eventually another girl was able to unlock it from the outside.

· After asking an old lady how much a skirt cost that was hanging up she told me I was too fat and that it would not fit me. All I could do was shake my head at her poor business strategies and yet she was still surprised when I walked out empty handed.

· Almost every day I meet someone new I get the same questions of: Do you have kids? Are you married? Are you divorced? What religion are you? Have you visited a church here yet? Blah blah blah…

Food eating contest sin manos and while dancing Punta

Mi Mama Catracha

The Health Team (minus a couple)

Sunset at the Ruins

Birthday time con mis hermanas!

Hermano Uno

Hermano Dos

Todos los ninos

My room - jackpot!

My bathroom companero

HONDURAS - 80% Mountains

Six weeks into training and if I had balls they would have sweated off by now. Currently I’m in La Paz for field based training and after settling into the cool climate of Zarabanda during the first few weeks I’ve struggled to adjust to the heat. While with my first host family during the initial four weeks of “pre-field based training” I began worrying about what was to come with my second host family considering that I would be living there for twice as long. Little did I know, I would be living in style. My host mother, Dalila, is the sweetest little grandmother; and when I say little I mean she doesn’t even reach my armpits. With great food, a private indoor bathroom, lots of space, and always someone hanging around for me to practice Spanish, any complaints I may have don’t even compare to how well I have been treated by my second Honduran family. One thing Honduras does well is hospitality - this is a hospitality you never experience in the States, not even in the South. For example, my host mother gave me her bedroom, which has the only indoor bathroom. Meaning everyone else has to go outside to use the bathroom or to shower.

The trip from Zarabanda to La Paz was interesting to say the least; a lot of tearful goodbyes and hugs were distributed all around to our first host-families and fellow trainees in the other projects. With tears in our eyes, we loaded all of our luggage onto a yellow school bus and began our two-hour trip to the tune of Phil Collins and other sappy 80s music that just kept the tears coming. This was when we put our “American” technology to good use; skits from Jerry Seinfeld and Episodes of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia made the trip much easier to handle.

After all being dropped off in the middle of our new town, we slowly dragged our bags through the dusty, rocky, uneven roads stopping after each block to ask the overlooking crowd of Hondurans if they could direct us to our families’ houses. Eventually I found my new home and was welcomed by a LOT of people – all of whom turned out to be related. Dalila has many kids and grandkids who have all welcomed me in with open arms. My little brothers followed me around the house for the first few days with their cute dimply smiles carrying a fan larger then they were so that the gringa didn’t get too hot or too many bug bites in her first week. As ridiculous and unnecessary as I thought this was at the time, as the temperature has risen and no fan for my bedroom has been provided I find myself thirsting for those days.

Training has been an intense roller coaster with all of our moves being closely monitored by both the Peace Corps and our communities. The gringos can’t do anything without the entire town taking notice. From counting the number of tortillas we eat at each meal to every illness we may encounter, our families are sure to discuss it with all their friends. In addition to the gossiping, having our Spanish constantly corrected and many times not understanding a word that is being said to us or not knowing how to respond in Spanish, we volunteers are experiencing duress. Compounding these stresses, we have had to adapt to numerous Peace Corps policies and regulations as well as new cultural norms. Needless to say, all of us trainees are trying to remain positive and allow as little frustration show as we count down the days to May 15th – the day we will officially be sworn in as Peace Corps Volunteers.

Although intense, I have already begun to experience those rewarding Peace Corps moments I’ve heard mentioned by other volunteers. In our first two weeks here in La Paz, the health team has delivered three health education sessions to various community members. I personally have presented to the mayor and municipality of La Paz, a class of fifth grade girls, and most recently a class of ninth graders. With just hours to prepare for each of these presentations, I am always amazed at how well all of us manage to pull off these sessions, especially given some of our language levels.

This last Friday, we delivered an HIV prevention tutorial at a bilingual high school in a neighboring city. Packed with really creative and fun learning activities (including condom demonstrations using plantains), each group was able to teach and entertain their class for over three hours. Having always considered myself as an introvert who would rather be the brains behind a message rather than the messenger and having little experience actually delivering health educational tutorials, I was delighted to discover that I am quite capable of teaching a diverse group and very much enjoy it. Plus, it was all in Spanish! In only a few instances did I refer back to my teachers for help in coming up with a response to a question or a detailed explanation.

In addition to having uncovered a new skill set and improving my Spanish, it was incredible to watch these young minds develop over the few hours we were with them. The evaluations indicated new knowledge had been passed onto these students; whether or not they actually use this information to protect themselves in the future is a different question in itself. Regardless, all of the students who participated now know how HIV can be transmitted, methods of prevention, and how to correctly use a condom - information that many adolescents in the U.S. do not have access to through their high schools.

In case any of you are keeping track, I have managed to NOT get malaria yet; although one of the other health volunteers did get dengue in her first week in Honduras. For those of you who have never heard of dengue, it’s similar to malaria in its mode of transmission (mosquitoes) and its symptoms. Ironically, ] all of the hospital visits thus far have occurred among the health team – a total of 5 hospital trips. I guess the one thing our team needs to improve on is our health. I have faith that during my two years here, the two other project teams will catch up to us. Especially the Water and Sanitation project; apparently at least half of them will get dengue. And, immediately after posting this blog, I will probably be bit by a mosquito and contract dengue.

Here are a few of my highs and lows so far experienced in Honduras:

Highs -

· I have a cell phone that works most of the time

· I’ve had great host families

· I’ve met a lot of interesting and passionate people (both volunteers and Hondurans)

· The children in Honduras are amazing and so easily entertained (plus they’re the easiest to talk to in Spanish)

Lows -

· I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve had a normal bowel movement

· Many of the men here have little to no respect for women, especially for us gringas, and are a constant source of harassment for volunteers (both on the street and in the workplace)

· It’s HOT

· Rules, Rules, and more RULES

To give you a taste of a typical Honduran diet, I discovered a new song that goes to the tune of “On Top of Spaghetti” and it goes a little something like this:

On top of tortillas

All covered with beans

Please no more mantequilla

It’s not what it seems

Mantequilla is a mix between mayonnaise and sour cream. No one has figured out quite what it is, but we have found that Hondurans love it and put it on any- and everything. I for one have NOT grown to love it, but who knows…ask me in two years!

This is the unfolding story about an unconventional girl from Kansas and her quest for adventure in Latin America. Or…How will a light-skinned, green eyed “half-Latina”, non-domesticated and a-religious, a twenty-something with no strings attached brave the wilds of Honduras? Read on, and find out with me.

I’m Tara. (That’s Tar-ah. Like Scarlet O’s home place. Please don’t confuse it with Tear-ah. It’s a little tricky, but with practice you’ll eventually get it.) And like that other over-quoted movie says, “there’s no place like home,” especially when you’re from Kansas. If you’ve never been to Kansas, you should give it try. Although desolate and isolated in many places you’ll either fall in love with the wide open sky and golden expanses of the rolling prairie…or it’ll make you appreciate your own home even more!

When I think of Kansas, though, I can't help but think of the wind. Except for those giant alien-like wind farms overlooking I-70, the wind has nowhere to go but faster. For a place whose eastern and western halves are often separated by geography, politics, and economy, the wind is one thing that we all share in common. With few trees to block the wind, it’s very easy to be swept away.

Growing up, that Kansas wind was a constant compass, always leading me to my next adventure. My family moved around the state at a breezy rate. From the Southwest to the Northeast corners and many towns in between, I was moved. Although uprooted each time, every new city, new neighborhood, new school brought new people with interesting things to say, thoughts to share, and needs to be met.

Eventually, that Kansas wind carried me up and out of my home state. I moved away to grad school not only for the education but also to satisfy my curiosity to explore different communities and cultures.

The more I experienced, the more I loved the diversity of people. But along with the diversity came so much competition, need, and rival perspectives. I had to wonder, do we all just cancel each other out? If not all of it can be true, is any of it true? Does any of it matter if not all of it can matter? And at some point, I had to ask myself the question posed by Kansas itself: “Is all we are just dust in the wind?”

I’m still looking for an answer but there’s something inside of me that wants to believe that’s not all there is – that there’s more.

I’m Tara. I’m from Kansas. And I want to help.

So, I’ve joined the Peace Corps and I will soon leave for training and assignment in Honduras. I know very little of what I’ll be doing, where I’ll live, or how this will all work out, but I know this adventure will let me help. And that act of helping, of contributing my part - that will bring me closer to knowing what the wind holds.

So that’s me and that’s my angle. Stick with me for the next two years as I escape the US to explore how other American communities manage to survive. I suspect that along the way I’ll discover a thing or two about personal survival as well.

Just for kicks, these are a few of my personal goals heading into the experience:

1. Don’t get malaria.

2. Don’t create an international incident.

3. Don’t end up on the show Locked Up Abroad.

4. Represent my family, friends, and country with dignity and compassion.

5. Leave those whom I encounter with an improved impression and better understanding of the United States.

6. Come back to the US motivated to continue educating others about how to develop trusting and rewarding relationships among strangers.

Because, in the end, even if we are just “dust in the wind” aren’t we all dust in the wind together? I don’t know, but I’m about to find out…

Much props to my friend Mandy C. who turned my idea for a metaphor into a captivating introduction to my story! Thank you