Hey kids. So it is pretty apparent that I am not exactly a highly successful blogger, I apologize and beg your forgiveness. I assure you that my life is normally so boring that I would actually have to apologize and beg your forgiveness if I had kept up with my blogging. Although I have no concrete proof, I highly suspect that after reading several blogs that go something like this: Today I drank a lot of water while I was reading. I liked this because it gave me something extra to do. Plus I had to get up a lot to go to the bathroom, which was an extra thing to do that also gave me a sense of accomplishment when I successfully completed the act. You would maybe not ever want to read anything I wrote again, so I have to save up life events to make an action-packed entry (code for: I am super lazy and don’t really like blogging). So anyway, here is my life in a nutshell for the past couple (or 8…) months… (oh and also, read the post below this that I am posting for the first time today) Yo Merezco Classes: Yo merezco means I deserve, or I am worthy of. I gave these classes to a bunch of 5th grade girls and it was my best project so far. We talked about everything from self esteem to reproduction. It was a really rewarding class and the girls were awesome. For one lesson, I had to draw giant poster size versions of certain reproductive organs and colored them in a variety of colors to make for easy labeling but apparently the colors initially confused some of the girls. When I posted the drawings on the board one girl exclaimed “Where is THAT?!” another girl helpfully assumed a spread eagle position, pointed and said “Right here! Uhh I think, mine doesn’t have those colors though.” Not to worry, I quickly cleared up any confusion (or at least I hope I did or else there are going to be some pretty strange rumors about certain gringa body parts). Another favorite event centered around our caja de preguntas (box of questions). The girls could put questions in anonymously whenever they wanted. Normally the questions would be about class or life (what does ____ mean?, Why are boys mean?, Etc). However, my favorite question was: “Why don’t north Americans like salt?” Considering I use half a container of salt on my eggs I was a little stumped… In addition to the classes I gave to the kids, I also worked with a couple of my friends to give a training on Yo Merezco classes to a group of new volunteers, their counterparts, and a couple of other Hondurans from different NGOs and governmental agencies (about 50 people in total). The training went really well (I think….) but was super exhausting. Talking in Spanish in front of a whole roomful of people all day is intimidating. Luckily I was presenting with my friend Leila who is super good at Spanish so she helped me out when I was tongue-tied (which was approximately every other word). Now it is a new school year and I hope to start up the classes again. This time in addition to doing the classes with the 5th grade girls I am going to adapt them so I can give them to mixed girl/boy groups. More to come on that…. Halloween For PC volunteers in Honduras Halloween is kind of a big deal. Every year almost all the volunteers head to the Copan Ruinas for a weekend of fun and debauchery (naturally the debauchery is culturally sensitive, professional, and volunteer-y). Everyone dresses up and a couple of the bars take turns hosting events. I was super impressed with the range of costumes I saw, especially considering the raw materials we have to work with here. I think perhaps people were slightly less impressed with mine. A little background is necessary to explain my costume. In Honduras, a popular way to serve/sell drinks in pulperias (little stores usually run out of peoples’ houses) is in a bag. The owners of a pulperia will open I big thing of coke and when someone wants to buy coke, they will pour it into a baggie and put a straw in it and bunch the baggie up around the straw. They also do this when they have glass bottles (extremely common here) and don’t want the customers running away with the bottles. So yea, naturally I chose to be a baggie of coke (drink kind not nose kind) for Halloween. What did my costume consist of? A brown dress, some tape, a big piece of plastic that my mattress came wrapped up in (I knew it would come in handy some day!) and a paper towel roll for the straw. I have to admit that I looked more like a crazy person wadded in plastic but it was free and easy which to me equals the perfect costume. Thanksgiving This year for thanksgiving I headed to Yojoa, a big lake in Honduras. We stayed at a hotel that consisted of a bunch of different cabins plus a kitchen that we rented out. It went really well thanks to our excellent cooks Lizette and Christine. There were about 15ish volunteers plus two US army people. We had a huge spread that included all the traditional stuff. Plus we were right on the lake so while food was cooking we could go out on canoes and explore. All together very satisfying and I ate way too much. That being said I still really missed my family and can’t wait to celebrate with them next year (especially considering it will also include celebrating Ria’s 21st!) Utila For my birthday this year, I headed to the beautiful island of Utila to meet up with Sara and Amanda (two friends from the good old SP). It was amazing!!! I got my scuba certification and (even better) got to spend tons of time with two of my favorite people in the whole world. It was so great to be with my friends again after a year and a half without them. Utila was AWESOME (everything about it: food, atmosphere, views, etc) but I think I could have had just as much fun hanging out with them in a landfill or something (maybe I am exaggerating a little but you get the point). In conclusion, I recommend checking out Utila (more so if you are under 35) and also having amazing friends. USA!!!!! As most of you know, I headed home for a delightful 17 days during the holidays. I will spare you the details because if you are reading this you were most likely there for the details but it was AMAZING. Friends, family, hot showers, couches, AND grocery stores…who could ask for more? Feria In February, it was once again time for Colo’s feria (fair). Everyone gets super excited for it but to be quite honest (and quite grumpy) it is not my favorite event. A lot of “strangers” come into town which means the GRRRRINNNGAAAAA I lovvvvvvveee you catcalls get even worse than usual. The plus side? A Ferris wheel. I believe I wrote a post about the Ferris wheel last year and essentially referred to it as a death trap. Now, a year later it became apparent that I am perhaps a little more Honduran. Throwing caution to the wind (kind of literally) I went on the Ferris wheel. It was terrifying. This was not your typical county fair grandma ride. It went a million miles an hour and there was no telling what was keeping my little car from catapulting into the crowds below. Not my smartest move, but exhilarating none the less. Roatan Roatan is an island right next to Utila and I met my family there in March. The fraternity…I mean group… included: Mom, Dad, Andy, Ria, Abby, Aunt cc, Aunt Karen, and Uncle Mark. It was flipping amazing. Roatan is gorgeous, the food is amazing, and the company was lovely (if at times a bit rowdy…) We did everything: a boat tour, scuba diving, snorkeling, sitting on the beach and sucking down monkey lalas, zip lining, etc. A definite highlight of the trip was watching Aunt Karen learn how to scuba (I got to skip the lesson because I was already certified). While everyone else was in the pool underwater following the teacher’s instructions she was above water giggling at me through her mask. Things went downhill from there. While we were actually in the ocean she spent the whole time holding the instructor’s hand (except from one memorable moment when he needed both hands and she grabbed onto his flipper). I almost drowned laughing into my regulator. In addition to the human spectacle that was AK, the reef itself was beautiful. We saw tons of amazing things including a sea turtle that swam right up to us and stared us down. All in all (and despite the sand fly bites) it was a perfect trip and I truly appreciate my family making it down to see me. It made coming back to the Dur after Christmas much easier and I am so excited that instead of waiting to see them again for a whole year and a half it will only be a couple more months! :) Strrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiikkkkkkeeeee three, I’m out (of patience)As soon as I got back from Roatan I was ready to dive into my last school year here in Honduras. Unfortunately, it was not to be. As I mentioned in the previous post (which I am posting today but wrote a long time ago…) there was a long teacher strike in August. Eventually the teachers did go back to work but nothing was really resolved. This became very apparent in March when the teachers decided to strike again. Yes, that’s right, another month long strike. I can’t really explain to you what the strike is about exactly, because everyone has a different version of the story (including newspapers) but as one of my friends (a teacher struggling with the need for a strike and the desire to teach) put it “All I believe in now is God and Alka-Seltzer.” I agree (but might add my kindle to the list...) I don’t really think I can adequately describe to you how boring it gets here during strikes. I think perhaps the only people that would understand are people who have been on bed rest for a month, but then again at least they have TV. I knew I had reached a breaking point one night when I heard a car alarm going off outside and started making faces in time with the alarm (I’ll give you a moment to picture that….). My saving grace was that for part of the time I had a house guest named Jessica staying with me. She is a doctor from the US and a couple years ago she stayed in Colo with one of my friends for 3 months doing a study. She decided to come back to visit and since my friend’s house was full I offered to let her stay with me. It was really nice to have someone stay with me for a while, especially considering how bored I was. We cooked a couple of meals together and just chatted a lot. It is amazing how much more pleasant chores are when you get to share them. She was only here for a week but luckily, classes have now started up again so I will (try) to keep you guys informed as to what I’m up to. That is about the extent of my ever so exciting life. I am counting down the days until I come back to you all! Ps. I apologize if there are any terrible spelling or grammar errors in my post, I realized when I tried to spell want o-n-e-t that perhaps I am forgetting English. ¡Qué barbaridad! Pps. Feel free to post questions or comments to give me something to do :)pps. as i attempt to post this for the 6th time with this @#@(#*$(@& slow internet my reasons for hating blogging are coming back to me

I recently came across this in one of my notebooks, I think I wrote it one day when my kids were taking a test. I apologize for it being approximately 9 months late……

Well not too much has happened so this will be brief, but I wanted to post something so I wouldn’t be harassed by my parental figures (apparently international nagging works (actually, considering the tardiness of this, I suppose it doesn’t…)) The month of August brought a bit of unrest to the Honduran school system which meant the teachers were on strike for (literally) the whole month of August. Therefore August went something like this:

Wake up, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, eat, clean, bored, hammock, bored, coffee, bored, computer, bored, bored, bored, bored, eat, bored, sleep. Needless to say, August wasn’t my favorite of months. I did read a whole lot of books; so many in fact I am growing concerned as it appears very likely my addiction to kindle books may bankrupt me. Despite the overwhelming boredom, there were several highlights:

Noche de Fumadores: Night of the smokers

Well, as you all know there is nothing I love more than a big fat stogie, so this was a perfect night for me! Jusssst kidding, I remain anti-lung cancer but it was a lot of fun. At least 70 volunteers converged upon a town called Santa Rosa for the event. We all got dressed up and paid a cover fee to get into the event and were showered with food, drinks, and cigars. It was a great night because I got to meet a lot of new volunteers and see people I hadn’t seen since swear in, all while supporting local businesses.

English Classes with Junior

I started to give English “classes” to one of my friend’s 3 year old son. He was actually born in the US and they used to live right down the road in Tyson’s Corner! Anyway, despite my best efforts (each class usually lasts approximately 4 minutes until he sees something shiny/sticky/moving/not moving/etc and moves on) the only thing he will say is “I want cookies.” Far from being discouraged, I identify with the little bugger and admire his steadfastness. There are many days when I also only want cookies.

That’s pretty much it. I’m still giving the same classes as before. I actually am sitting in a class right now as they take a test, and I just came from one. The one I just came from was a doozie; let’s just say I have decided I never want to own a 14 year old boy. Love to everyone!

Soooooo it has perhaps been a while since I last wrote. I may or may not have been hassled continually about by silence by my parents and it has been reported that some of you consider me “just plain lazy” (thank you Benjamin and Ella). Well my retort to such comments is (in the words of Karen Beck) Be Still. It isn’t so much that I am lazy, more that I lack the motivation to write, and to be completely honest, I don’t have too much to write about….that being said, here I go:

Ma and Pa Kettle

I am sure you have all been regaled with endless stories from my ever garrulous mother (my apologies to anyone misfortunate enough to run into her in the grocery store and wind up returning home with soggy peas, ice cream soup, and an intricate knowledge about the Honduran bus system) but I will give a brief summary of their shenanigans anyway. The week before my parents arrival I had a training outside of Tegucigalpa so I got to hang out with all of my friends. Then, the night before their arrival my parents generously paid for my stay in the Marriot in Teguz. After months and months of cold bucket baths, tiny beds, crappy pillows, no TV, etc the Marriot seemed too good to be true. Since I had just come from a training, a bunch of my friends were in town and we ran around the hotel room like 5 year olds. The next morning a bunch of us ate breakfast in the hotel (real American breakfast!) and waited for my parents. Seeing them in the lobby of the hotel in Teguz was totally surreal and I couldn’t believe that they were actually in Honduras. We did the whole introduction thing and then went upstairs so they could scrape the plane out of their hair…or whatever…. That day we went to the mall and then went out to dinner (Teguz is not exactly a tourist trap….apparently the US government rates the danger levels of cities and Teguz is right on par with Bagdad). I figured the mall was the safest place for us, but don’t worry, good old TKC left her mark. We were all walking UP the DRY stairs to leave the mall and she somehow managed to trip and fall. It was graceful though….it kind of reminded me of the Youtube video when the bear falls out of the tree onto the trampoline. At least she didn’t break her fall with the camera like that time with the tricky curb in NYC. The next day we headed towards La Esperanza. For those of you that haven’t been taking meticulous notes on my musings, La Esperanza is the city 4 hours away from my town. We stayed the night in La Esperanza and I showed them around town. The next day we headed towards Colo. Apparently, the parental units thought I was exaggerating when I described the road conditions and were shocked to find their bones rattling out of their bodies. Considering the lack of leg room in the buses, dad’s knees were boxing his ears. Hopefully he didn’t go deaf-(er). I think mom actually enjoyed the rattling about because she just had to put her finger NEAR the button on the camera and the bumps in the road would take the pictures for her.

Speaking of which- I don’t think her finger was more than 1 inch away from the camera the entire trip… We spent a LOT of time on buses and she was glued to the camera the whole time. When dad or I would ask her what exactly she was taking a picture of her response was “the scenery” or “the flora.” Never mind the fact that she took approximately 9000000 pictures of the same ugly rock….or purple flowers….or pine tree…. Once she even asked “Is it culturally appropriate to take a picture of that big graveyard?” That’s a framer…My only hope is she gets it blown up and hangs it over the stupid man-with-no-legs golf picture in the living room. When we got to Colo we walked around town and they got to meet a bunch of people I work with. Unfortunately a couple people weren’t in town but they still got a taste of the people here. Then we went to dinner at my host parents’ house. It was good that they got to meet each other. Both parties were really excited to put faces to the names. We were only in Colo for one whole day. I put my mom to work cleaning up the millions of mangos in my backyard. Little did we know she would have an allergic reaction to them and turn into a gross splotchy monster. We also went to one of my English classes and I had the girls teach my parents Spanish, it was pretty cute. That night my host family came over to say goodbye, and someone (a male member of my family….) broke a chair. Mom and I were kind enough to inquire as to his injury status once the tears of laughter cleared. My host family just looked on in horror. The next morning we headed to Las Ruinas de Copan via Gracias, Lempira. The parents got to see more of Honduras and were lucky enough to spend hours and hours and hours on buses. We stayed in an AMAZING hotel in Copan (Hacienda San Lucas). The scenery was beautiful, the service and food amazing. We took a tour of the Ruins which was in parts interesting, boring, and terrifying. Interesting because well…they are ruins, boring because our guide gave a LOT of details, and terrifying because said guide had a seizure while we were in one of the caves. Apparently the seizure thing happens to him a lot because he popped right back up and insisted on continuing the tour but it scared the crap out of us. We also frequented a really good restaurant (and their happy hour beverage menu). The time flew by and all too soon it was time for them to abandon their first born and return to hot running water. The trip went perfectly, the only complaint I got was from my father: “Why isn’t there more Mexican food here?” I’ll let that comment stand on its own, but in case you all were thinking of it, I call getting him an atlas and a slap on the back of the head for Christmas.

Life in General

So what have I been up to since? A couple more trainings, random weekends in La Esperanza, and classes. I am still teaching English classes as well as career training (future training?) classes, and sex ed classes. I am also part of Colo’s cultural committee. Committee meetings frequently make me want to jump out a window (alas there are no buildings over 2 stories here…). They always start late, are frequently 4 hours long, and very rarely accomplish anything. Oh, and I’m not Honduran so culture wise I have very little to contribute….oh well…. I am also counseling a bunch of kids in the colegio (because as we all know, I am a psychiatrist). At first I was apprehensive about this because I am not exactly qualified and my Spanish sucks but what it comes down to is the kids need someone to vent to and I am the perfect person because I am pretty much the only person in Colomoncagua that is not somehow related. What else… a couple months ago I helped a girl apply for a scholarship (and by “helped” I pretty much mean I got the forms for her and smiled at her while she filled them out…) and she got it! She is going to be studying in Wisconsin. Anyone interested in sending a welcome to America package, let me know! I just saw her for the last time today (she leaves next week) and she is really excited and nervous.

I don’t have any other individual stories that I can remember so I figured I would sum up two different “average” days.

Typical Day 1 (took place a couple weeks ago):

I woke up at 6:15, cold bucket bath, coffee, breakfast. Then I met a group of teachers at 7:15 to get a jalon to the school where I give classes. My first class was an English class for 7th graders. I started out as usual, standing in front of the class making an ass out of myself by butchering Spanish. Then, because they have an unnerving habit of staring blankly at me when I ask for participation, I TRICKED them into participating by playing a game. Thank you Masters in education… I repeated this an hour later with the 8th graders. Then I gave a brief Spanish class to the 9th graders. We ended early because I am also giving the 9th graders “career planning” classes. To be honest, I don’t really like this particular program but luckily I have a great counterpart (an 18 year old girl named Audely I roped into going to the training with me) so it isn’t as painful as it could be. The class is designed to help adolescents start thinking about future careers. It sounds great on paper but to be honest I am a bit conflicted as to how applicable it is to their situation. A lot of the words the workbooks use are too big (for them and for me) and the aptitude tests are convoluted and basically just too complicated to be any good. BUT we persevere and I think occasionally the kids get something out of it. After I was done with the 9th graders, I went to teach my classes to the 6th graders. The 6th graders are my favorite. It is a shorter class (20 minutes) and it is just an introduction to English so we pretty much just learn some vocab and then play games like Pictionary and charades to practice them. When I was done teaching, I went with Audely to her house to help her mom and aunt make tamales. I spent a couple hours there and then her mom and I headed back to town. It takes about 1 ½ to walk and it was pouring rain but luckily we managed to get a jalon after about 15 minutes of slogging through the mud. The jalon was in a rickety old truck that had exhaust streaming in through the cracks in the windshield and the heating vents. Poor Audely’s mom was trying to peel the tape off the window next to her so she could breathe. We got into town and I went back home. I did a little bit of cleaning and worked out in my “home gym” and then at 6 it was time to go to a committee meeting. Three hours later (seriously) I headed home and watched a show or two on my computer then went to bed.

Side story: my committee involvement ended up in me playing basketball in front of the whole town. Just imagine. Me. Playing basketball. In front of people. The tournament was supposed to start at 1, so naturally it started at 6:30. Guess who got to sit by the sound system “guarding” it all day. Yuuuuup. My team lost and the tournament ended early due to downpours. Bummer. Typical Day 2 (today):

I woke up at 7:30 and started to get ready to go to the Colegio. I noticed that it was a lot quieter than normal and peeked out my window and came to the conclusion that the colegio canceled classes. The teachers are striking (not a very rare thing here). So, I read for a while. Then Rubidia (girl with the scholarship) came to visit. Then I made lunch. Then I read for a while. Then I bought eggs. Then I read for a while. Then I made dinner. Then I read for a while. And here we are. It’s a wild life…..

So. That’s it. Miss you all. Come visit.

ps. if the internet cooperates, there will be a few new pictures up

also, if you interested and have time (which obviously you do if you are reading this) go to youtube and type in Colomoncagua. There are a couple videos of the town and Semana Santa (Running of the Jews). I havent actually seen them because youtube is way beyond my internet capabilities but check it out!

Alrighty, it has been a couple of months so here is what I have been up to….

Reconnect Workshop

At the end of February I went to a meeting of all the youth development volunteers. It was a short 14 hours away (3 different busses). I had to bring a community member with me so it was great trying to convince someone to ride 14 hours on a bus, be in meetings for one day, and then turn around and go home (I stayed the whole week but we only needed counterparts for the first day). The first person I convinced to go with me conveniently hurt her ankle the night before we were supposed to leave. She didn’t call to tell me that she was cancelling but luckily I stopped by her house to make sure she was ready to go in the morning. After she backed out I went to a birthday party at Edna’s house and luckily ran into another teacher that agreed to go with me at the last minute. Reconnect was a lot of fun, except for all of the actual learning and sharing and meeting stuff. There are about 30ish youth development volunteers in Honduras, half got here a year before me and the rest arrived with me. The veterans shared a lot of their experiences and successful projects which was helpful. I also got to see a lot of people I either had never met or hadn’t seen since training. It was great to hang out with everyone.Escaping the Tsunami and participating in the OlympicsRight after reconnect I went with a couple friends to a tiny island called Amapala off the southern coast of Honduras. We were there to participate in a REF meeting (religious equity forum). The first night we got there we swam and hung out enjoying the island. The next morning we were planning on having our discussion sessions but fijase que there was an earthquake in Chile. We were told that there was a possibility that there was a tsunami headed towards us and Peace Corps essentially told us to run up to the top of the volcano in the center of the island. We (some of us begrudgingly) did so and luckily there was never a tsunami so we headed back down a couple hours later. Later a couple of us headed back to Choluteca on the mainland for a going away party. The theme of the party was (beer) Olympics. It was a lot of fun and there were a ton of volunteers there. The winner received an elaborately carved chalice (volunteers tend to have a little too much time on their hands). Then, I headed home to my.....

New house!I have a new house of my very own, there are pictures up. It is a little ridiculous because I have no furniture but, I like it. I salvaged an old school desk from the backyard and put my stove on it. Unfortunately it has termites (or something) but I am hopeful that it will hold up for another year and a half. The rest of my furniture is made of the finest plastic so I am not concerned about the termites spreading. The greatest thing about the house is that there is a mango tree and a papaya tree in the backyard. Right now it is mango season so I eat about a million and three every day. Actual work…ishI have settled into a relatively regular schedule now. I am teaching classes at an aldea (outside of town) school Tuesdays and Thursdays. It kind of sucks because I get a ride there but I have to walk home and it takes about an hour. When I finally get back into town everyone I see is thrilled to tell me how red and tired I look and they always yell at me for not bringing an umbrella for shade. I know I should but I always forget and plus, I need a little pigmentation. Mondays and Wednesdays I teach classes in the elementary school in town. Friday I hold little mini counseling sessions with kids in the colegio (high school). It is not so much counseling because (despite the rumors) I am not a psychologist, but it is a chance for the kids to talk about their lives and futures with a quasi authority figure who isn’t going to judge them or try to push them one way or another. So far it is my favorite thing I have done but it is kind of sad sometimes because a lot of these kids are up against a lot. Semana SantaThe week before Easter is a big deal in Honduras. School is out and everyone goes to visit family/beaches/etc. I had some grand plans for Semana Santa but unfortunately got sick the weekend before so I had to cancel them. I pretty much spent Monday, Tuesday, and part of Wednesday in a coma and then rallied Wednesday night. On Thursday I went to a birthday party with my host family (see pictures). It was fun but by the end of it (I was there for like 5 hours) I was exhausted. The next day my friend Blair came from her site to see a Colo tradition. Every year during Semana Santa a bunch of the boys and men in town dress up as “Jewish people.” For whatever reason, this usually involves tight women’s clothing and really freaky Halloween-esq masks. They parade through the town fighting each other with wooden machetes and being “chased” by statues of Jesus and Mary. There are several different “showtimes” for the parade. During the final “shows” a bishop-y looking guy with a metal machete joins the fight and he starts beating on the “Jewish” people. It is one of the strangest, most politically incorrect things I have ever seen in my life. Needless to say I was laughing my ass of but also, to be completely honest, kind of worried about having nightmares because some of the guys looked pretty freaky. I tried to take pictures but unfortunately I just couldn’t capture the “magic” but they are up as well. The day before Easter I went to the beach in El Salvador with my host family (see pictures). It was kind of like a trailer park version of a beach. We parked in a circle behind a beachfront building and hung up hammocks. No one really sat out like you would at an American beach. I kind of looked like a killer whale in my all black outfit and radiating white skin. Lucky for me, the radiating white skin quickly morphed into neon red, so I was less killer whale, more stupid burnt gringa. The car ride home from the beach was quite an adventure. In El Salvador all the roads are paved, which means you can actually go above 20 mph (something my host dad took full advantage of). However, as soon as you cross the border the road turns into a terrible pile of dirt and rocks. This pile is made even more terrible when there are torrential downpours, just like the one right before we arrived back in Honduras. The rain turned the very hilly road into a mudslick. We basically almost had to sleep in the car because we couldn't get up the hills, but, with a lot of jumping and pushing and luck we made it.

This is admittedly kind of a half-assed blog but I let too much time pass and now I can’t remember what I’ve been doing. However, the parental figures are going to Honduras in less than a week and I promise I will take diligent notes because I am sure we will get ourselves into some rather ridiculous situations. So, I leave you with the promise of future tales of Ma and Pa Kettle in Honduras.

Well, I suppose it has been a while and I have been yelled at a couple of times for not writing, so I will do my best to remember the events of the past month or so….my method is to scribble down a word or so on a piece of paper so I remember to write about it when I finally sit myself down. Unfortunately I am currently looking at my scribbles and I have no idea what some of them are referring to (seasons? What does that refer to Sarah?). Considering I have been doing a whole lot of nothing lately, this is pretty pathetic but, oh well.

To begin this story, I have to give a brief explanation of my room (not sure if I have already). Anyway, I live in an apartment over the garage. To get to my room you have to climb up a set of stairs and cross a balcony. My only window looks out over my neighbors’ roof. Keep this visual in mind…The other night I was sitting in my bed reading. It was around 10:30. Now 10:30 may not seem super late to you but it is the Honduran equivalent of about 1:30 (most nights I am in my pjs by 8, I know…party animal). Suddenly there was a knock on my door. I asked who it was and the person (a man) just kept saying “soy yo” (it’s me). Well, as I was not sure who “yo” was referring to I was certainly not going to open the door. So, I did the only thing I could think of, which was nothing. I sat frozen in my bed and refused to say anymore. He knocked for a little while longer and then finally I heard him leave. Needless to say I was relieved. I continued reading and then I heard whistling and “Sarrrriiiitaaaa” “sarrrrriiitaaa” I assumed that the guy had decide to continue trying to talk to me from the road outside of my house. Then, I looked up and what do I see outside my second story window? Creepy man trying to shove his face between my window bars. I jumped up and immediately pulled the curtain all the way shut and told him to go away. “But I only want to talk to you!” I could not figure out how to say “creeper” in Spanish so I spanglish yelled at him and then called my host family’s landline. My host mom picked up and I told her what was going on. My host dad wasn’t home yet but she told me she was going to call him. About 10 minutes later I heard them rushing up the steps. My rescue party consisted of my host dad, my host mom armed with a machete, and my 7 year old host brother. Normally I would question the thought process that would lead to bringing both a machete AND a 7 year old, but who am I to question my rescuers? I have seen him punch his siblings pretty hard in the face so, who knows. At this point Creeper McGee was long gone. We stood on the balcony for a little bit discussing the incident and then they went back to the house. I went back into my room and settled in. Then, I heard noises on the balcony. I debated calling the host family again when I got a text message from my host dad. It said “Sarita, I am sorry if you heard me, I turned off all the lights and I am hiding in the hammock to see if he will come back and I can catch him!” The next day he installed a stronger lock on my door. Needless to say, I am well taken care of here. My only problem is that we never figured out who it was so now every time I see a guy between 18 and 30 I suspect him of being the creeper…My host mom really likes to make pizza, which for some reason is pronounced peekza here. Peekza cannot possibly be made without “queso Kraft” and ham. I don’t really know why those two ingredients are so crucial but it is literally unheard of to make it without, especially without queso kraft (which is that yellow cheese that comes wrapped in plastic and is generally pretty terrible tasting.) The peekza is decent, but the queso kraft tends to form a layer of melted plastic that sticks to the roof of your mouth. Oh, and the ham is inexplicably made of chicken…yum. Speaking of chicken, the other day one scared the bejesus out of me because it was tied to a table in the courtyardish area. Guess what we had for lunch the next day? Sorry buddy. Visiting!

At the beginning of the month I ventured out to my friend Christine’s site which is..only…an 11 hour voyage. I decided to visit because 1) I enjoy Christine’s company, 2) I was bored, and 3) it was her site’s feria. Pretty much every pueblo in Honduras has their own feria, which is pretty much like a town fair. My day began when I got up at 3 am. I was on the bus by 3:30, and I assure you I was looking positively divine. It was the standard 4 hour ride to La Esperanza, and I frequently drifted off and was awoken when I slammed my head into the window (bruised? Yes.) When I got to La Esp I threw my stuff on the bus and then went to grab some breakfast, since I had about 45 minutes to kill. Imagine my surprise when 15 minutes later I was finishing up my coffee and saw my bus (and my stuff) starting to pull away. I ran out and threw my body in front of the bus to make him stop. Luckily, the breaks were working and I hopped on. I ended up in a nice roomy seat in the very back of the bus. I was finally comfortable and started to go to sleep. Then the lady in front of my opened her window. Now, I know it will come as a surprise but the La Esp area is actually pretty cold sometimes. I would say it was about 55-60. This, when you are on a bus that actually occasionally goes above 30 mph, is cold. She was wedging her head out the window and spiting a lot (which was flinging back in and hitting the guy sitting next to me, lovely.) Obviously she was feeling car sick but geez lady, close the window and use the barf bag. As we drove, we picked up more and more people and they had to stand, and since I was on the back there were a lot packed in around me. The sick lady retreated under a towel and the guy sitting next to me shut her window (hero!). Therefore, I was able to sleep for a bit. When I woke up I looked around me and came to the slow realization that EVERYONE around me was desperately clutching their barf bags to their faces. I somehow ended up in the puke capital of the world. Gross. I was definitely not upset when my bus pulled up to my stop. I got off and (naturally) headed straight to Wendy’s for a little comida Americana. Then I popped in the grocery store (an actual supermarket!) and purchased some essential supplies for my visit (these supplies may rhyme with drum and dodka). I also bought some peekza supplies as Christine is Italian and makes a mean peekza (despite the fact that it lacks queso kraft and hamchicken). Then I headed for my next bus. Another very dusty four hours later I pulled into Christine’s (very hot) site. We dropped my stuff off at her house, I attempted to beat the dust out of my once black, now brown, pants and we headed to watch a soccer game. Then we visited her friends and headed to watch bull riding. The bull riding was interesting to watch. I still can’t decide which was more frightening; watching the bulls and the crazy men or the makeshift bleachers we were sitting on. Nevertheless, it was an interesting experience. In addition to the bull riding and bull baiting, they had dancing horses which were cool. Then we headed to Christine’s house and I took a much needed nap while she went to watch the town queen crowned. That night there was a dance so Christine, her site mate, and I went and confirmed the fact that gringos can’t dance. It was a pretty wild night, especially considering the fact that I was going on zero sleep. The next day I was essentially dead. Christine went to a baptism and I slept more because I literally could not move. In addition to being super tired, I had a mysterious bite on my foot and it swelled up to about twice the normal size and had a lovely puss bubble on it. Charming. Later that day we went and visited her friends and watched traditional dancing. Then we went to a wake. That’s right. A wake. Typical. Slightly awkward considering I did not know the woman who died, but… an interesting cultural experience? FYI we went to the wake at 10:30pm. Honduran Catholic wakes last 24 hours (I think) and people show up when they want to. Then Christine and I headed home. I was excited to go to bed but unfortunately, in addition to the mystery bite on my foot, I also got attacked by biting ants so BOTH my feet were terribly swollen, itchy and painful so I spent most of the night reading with my feet soaking in water like an old woman. The next day we headed to a river to swim. The trip home was, as expected, pretty painful (especially with my giant gross feet). I had the pleasure of talking to a man that kept repeating a phone number to me. He informed me it was the telephone number of California. Really? How does California pick up the phone, it doesn’t have hands.

Colo’s Feria

This week was Colo’s feria. We kicked it off by going to the first round of the Miss Colomoncagua contest. Sounds harmless enough, right? Three hours later, I wasn’t quite sure. They only had three outfit changes (“casual” which translates to borrowing your infant sister’s mini skirt and wearing a tube top, “cowboy” which again involved said infant’s mini skirt paired with a button up shirt tied in such a way that the entire stomach shows, and “sporty” which, believe it or not also frequently involved the mini skirt (I recall how I loved wearing miniskirts when I played soccer…)). The girls “modeled” for a million years. They would walk around the stage a thousand times (it was sort of like they were being flushed down a giant toilet, around and around and around), then they would walk down the “catwalk.” Then they would do it in pairs. Then in groups of four. Then they would walk diagonally. Then in a circle again. Literally, hours of this. The second round was held about a week later and was no different, except there was a ball gown section instead of a sporty section. Miniskirts continued to be well represented. After the girls answered pretty typical questions (“What do you think we should do about the trash in Colo?”….uhhhh throw it in a can instead of the street?) the queen was finally crowned. After the crowning there was a huge dance. I opted not to go to the dance considering the last dance I attended resulted in me getting mauled by every bolo in the place (not to mention the infamous machete dancer).

A couple days later it was time for the Little Miss Colomoncagua contest. My host mom asked me if I could blow dry and straighten my little sister’s hair for it. She said “I am sure you know how to do it, because I don’t!” um.. have you seen the seven straight hairs on my head that dry in one minute? I will try but am certainly no expert. I think I ended up doing a pretty good job. The Little Miss contest had a casual category, cowboy category and fancy category. It was (slightly) shorter than the grownup version. My host sister ended up being the Queen of Peace (everyone got a title). I found this quite ironic considering the fact that she screams 95% of the day. The rides at the feria are an American lawyer’s worst nightmare (or greatest dream, if they are the type that enjoys nothing more than the sight of an ambulance’s taillights). Nothing is roped off, and the boys enjoy playing chicken with the rides. The Ferris wheel (aka wheel of Chicago) goes about a million miles an hour. The rickety little seats swing like crazy and there is not height requirement. I opted not to ride. Another great danger is the plethora of French fry venders. I assure you they are not checked over by a health inspector (six day old grease, dirty potatoes, and warm mayo…yummmmy).One of the most popular things in the feria are the shooting games. My host brothers have spent pretty much the whole week shooting pellet guns at army men. The culminating event was an actual real pistol/rifle shooting contest. Where did this take place? Right outside my house. Slightly frightening given the amount of young children and old bolos milling about, but at least I got a good seat. I realize my report of the feria has been a bit negative nancy-ish. It really is a great event and the whole town pulls together to make it happen. In addition, I got a super nice hammock for the equivalent of about 15 dollars! As for the other stuff, I am just a grouchy hater of crowds and ceremonies. House news: I should be moving into my very own house at the beginning of next month. Wooooo. My landlord is actually one of my counterparts and is super nice. He and his family just opened a restaurant in one of their houses which is right by my future house. They used to live in the restaurant house so it has a nice living room and a tv (separate from the restaurant) which he invited me to use whenever I wanted. Considering I will not have a couch and maybe won’t have a tv, this is great news.

Work news: School started today! This means I will be working again (hopefully). Unfortunately I will still be teaching a fair amount of English but I am also going to have other projects to work on so I am pretty excited. It is crazy how different school works here. As an example, last night we were at the feria and my host mom and a friend sent my host brother to the director of the elementary school’s house to find out if school would be starting today. His reply “yeaa, I think so.” I got to the elementary school this morning and we sang the national anthem and listened to some speeches and then the teachers had a faculty meeting. This is while all the children are running wild outside. We talked for about an hour and a half and were actually discussing who would teach which grade and in which classroom. Can you imagine showing up to an elementary school in the States on the first day and finding out that the teachers weren’t even positive which grades they would be teaching? Crazy.

That’s about it for now. I think I forgot a whole lot, I will try to be better about updating. Miss you all!

Happy New Year everyone! I can’t believe it is 2010. It seems like only yesterday the Krings hoard was celebrating the millennium by vomiting together as the clock struck midnight (a family tradition I am happy to say did not continue past that year, maybe it will remain a purely millennial tradition). Anyway… my new years was certainly different than last year, and all the years previous. Instead of wandering around DC in heels I was climbing Honduras’ version of Mount Everest. That’s right, I climbed the tallest mountain in Honduras in celebration of the New Year. In a way I think it was very metaphorically fitting, as I am certain the coming year will be more challenging and (hopefully) more rewarding than most. My only hope is that I do not smell quite so bad or look quite so grimy (metaphorically or otherwise) at the end of the year.

My mountain adventure began, as do most of my adventures, with the lovely 5am, 4 hour bus ride to La Esperanza. There I met up with a bunch of fellow H-15ers who I hadn’t seen since training. It was really amazing to see them and was great to speak English and share stories. From La Esperanza, we headed to Gracias, Lempira to meet up with the rest of the hiking crew. All in all there were 12 of us (I think). The next morning we got up, ate a big breakfast, and took a van to the base of the mountain. We all piled out of the van, strapped on our backpacks and started to walk. We walked for about 30 minutes and already I was thinking “Why am I doing this?” Then we arrived at the welcome center. Not a good sign when you are questioning your motives and have not ACTUALLY reached the starting line. Anyway, we hiked for about 5 hours and finally made it to our base camp. Well, we thought we made it to the base camp, it was a nice camp site with a latrine and a pavilion so we assumed it was the camp we had read about. It was not. The actual camp site was about 30 more minutes up the mountain. However, the fake camp site was a heck of a lot nicer than the real camp site so it was a fortunate error. The hike was pretty tiring. Most people had super cool backpacking bags but I just had my stupid backpack from walmart loaded down with a million pounds of stuff so my back was killing me. But, we made camp (and by “we” I mean the 5 or so people that actually had half a clue what they were doing) and made dinner and all was good.

I think I should take a minute to explain just how wildly unprepared I was for this particular journey. I did not even pack a flashlight. What kind of person goes camping sans flashlight? Apparently me. Considering it was maybe my second time camping ever, I am choosing to label my stupidity naivety instead. The next day (New Year’s Eve) we hiked another 5 (very steep) hours to the top of the mountain. The hike, though hard, was beautiful. Celaque is a cloud forest so everything was super green and the trees were humongous. When we got to the top, it was unfortunately too cloudy to see much (apparently on the rare clear day you can see San Salvador). We mainly just saw…cloud. But, it was still great to be on top of Honduras, plus I rewarded myself with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, so obviously that was awesome. The trip down the mountain was just as hard (and I think a bit more dangerous) than the trip up the mountain. A couple of us spent a majority of the way down clinging to tree branches and laughing at each other’s falls. Although there were no serious injuries, grace was definitely not one of the prevailing themes of the day. Once we made it back to our camp we made dinner and all sat around the fire. We talked and made smores and a few of us even managed to stay up until 12 to ring in the new year. In the morning we trudged back down the rest of the mountain and headed to a lovely hotel in Gracias. Everyone was abuzz about how great the hot showers were so I was super excited. Unfortunately, I was one of the last ones to jump on the shower wagon and did not get any hot water, which was definitely disappointing. However, I had a giant plate of fettuccini alfredo and a brownie which more than compensated for the lukewarm shower. Then we all went to bed in nice cozy soft beds.

I headed home the next day. The journey home was exhausting, and the bus popped two tires in between La Esp and home but I finally made it. As I walked up to the house all of the kids were playing outside and gave me a horrified look and sprinted into the house. Obviously, this caused me some concern. As I climbed the steps to my room I heard frantic whispering and scurrying about. As I rounded the corner I was just in time to see my host mom desperately flinging suitcases out of my room. Apparently family had come to visit so the family put them up in my room. I didn’t really care but was a little annoyed they seemed to think I would be stupid enough not to notice…

In related news, I have been “in negotiations” with a guy in my community for my very own house, hopefully I should move in within the next month or so. The next weekend I headed to Teguc to pick up packages and medicine. On the way I met up with another volunteer and we stopped by a friend’s house in San Jeronimo for the night. We made baked pasta and apple pie and it was super delicious (again, by “we” I mean “they”). The next morning we continued on to Teguc. Teguc was great, more or less like being in America again. I went to the mall, saw Avatar (cool looking but too long for someone with the attention span of a fly), and ate yummy food (way too much yummy food). My friend Christine and I shared a hotel room and watched a lot of English TV. Unfortunately, we were morons and the mail room and medical office in the Peace Corps office aren’t open on the weekend so we had to wait until Monday to get our stuff. The packaged were well worth the wait (not so much the malaria meds that taste like crap and have weird side effects) I think I now have enough stuff to stock the average American snack food isle in a grocery store. So thank you to Aunt Betty, Aunt Karen, the Putnams, Doris and Blossom, and the parents, I appreciate everything so much! The trip back from Teguc was epic, too long and exhausting to write about but just to sum it up, it involved many busses, many hours, and the first time in the history of the world the Colo bus has actually left at 3:00pm (which was problematic as I arrived in La Esp at 3:05). But, I finally made it home and went to bed at approximately 6pm.

This past weekend I went into La Esperanza for a birthday party. A bunch of other volunteers came to celebrate and we had a lot of laughs. Coincidently, it was also La Esperanza’s Feria (fair). It was the potato feria (woooo) which meant that there were French fries everywhere (apparently there are no other uses of the potato). The feria was slightly lame because it was supposed to be in June or July but was rescheduled because of the golpe. A highlight of the feria had to be when a man walked by one of the other volunteers and queried, in perfect English, “Are you wearing panties?” Really buddy, that’s the English sentence you chose to memorize? A highlight of the trip would have to be Dona Maria’s baleadas. Baleadas are a traditional Honduran food, it is a flour tortilla filled with beans, mantequilla, eggs, and avocado. There are a lot of variations, but that is the standard. Dona Maria’s house is about a 30 minute walk from the main part of town but it is well worth it. Not only is her food delicious, she is about the cutest little old lady you could imagine. If any of you come to visit, I will force you to walk the 30 minutes so prepare yourselves. The bus ride home from La Esp was rather trying because I sat next to a man who tried to woo me, for four hours. He is a nice guy but slightly obnoxious, I finally had to proclaim that I could not possibly have a novio (boyfriend) for at least one whole year because I was too busy acclimating to Honduran life. To this he replied “well, I can help you acclimate!” ughhhh get the point. I might have to invent a pretend giant, strong, extremely jealous novio in the states….

A few random stories:

A while ago I was sitting on the porch with the empleada (the lady that cooks and cleans for my host mom….this isn’t very unusual here in Colo, most people either work in a school or work for someone who works in a school). I noticed a little boy who couldn’t be more than two sitting bare-assed with his feet in a hole. Now, this wouldn’t be totally unusual but he was sitting in the middle of a field where two under-aged, under-muscled children were learning how to ride motorcycles/playing motorcycle tag. In light of recent events (please see Christmas entry) this made me slightly nervous, especially since there appeared to be no one monitoring the child. I said something to the effect of “Oh my goodness look at that little boy!” the empleada looked at me and said “What do you think he is thinking?” Now, I was expecting something more along the lines of “yea, we should go move him” or “where are his parents?” so I was a little confused and told her I had no idea what he must be thinking. She then gave me an all-knowing look, sighed and responded “Well Sarita, his feet are in a hole, that means he wants to die, or is at least very seriously thinking about death.” Oh. Uh, a suicidal 2 year old? To be honest I am just not sure he was thinking about his own death. And if he was contemplating suicide I think the big indicator would not be that he stuck his feet in a hole, but that he was sitting smack dab in the middle of a practice session of the world’s most inexperienced motorcyclistsIn light of the recent earthquakes in Haiti* and Guatemala my host mom calmly looked at me the other day and said “I think the world is probably ending, since all these bad things are happening.” And then continued to sweep the floor as if she had not just predicted the apocalypse. *If you were thinking of sending me a package, don’t. Send your money to Haiti, they need it way more than I need a chocolate bar. I went to a family birthday party the other day at Edna’s house. Everyone was talking and laughing (I was more sitting in the corner and smiling when other people smiled because I still can’t follow/contribute to large group conversations). Somehow the conversation took a turn for the dirty and the grandmother started singing lines from a popular song entitled Como se Mata el Gusano. This means How do you kill the worm. What is this song about? Well, think of the most vulgar thing a worm could stand for, and then imagine “killing” it. The song describes the necessary motions in detail. Now imagine a grandmother singing it. Now boil your brain to erase the memory. That’s about all for now, I started up one of my classes again (just one this time, 3 days a week) so I have that to look forward too. I am going to try to start planning things for the coming school year so I’ll let you know how that goes. Miss you all, thanks again for all the packages! Happy new year.

Merry Christmas everyone! Hopefully you are all enjoying cookies, hot chocolate, the English language, and (for most of you) snow. Obviously the past couple of weeks have been a bit hard and I have missed everyone back in the US. I have been coping by basically ignoring the fact that it is indeed the holiday season. I am pretending that it is a Honduran holiday, and that Christmas is not occurring in the states. It has worked pretty well and have thus far avoided a major emotional breakdown. Woo! I have also been pretty busy which has helped to keep my mind off missing all of you.My classes officially ended about a week before Christmas. I can’t say that I was particularly sad to see them end, I was definitely ready to stop teaching English for a while. We had parties in all of my classes and the kids all got diplomas. Diplomas are sort of like gold here, everyone is really keen on getting them. I made some pretty pitiful diplomas for my little kids and then casually asked my colegio kids if they wanted them, expecting a no because they were really stupid looking. I got a resounding yes and they looked at me like I was crazy for thinking they might not want a piece of paper with my signature on it. A woman that helped organize the kids in one of my classes even asked for one (I didn’t really know what to say, considering she didn’t actually attend the classes, so I told her I would make her a special thank you certificate…) So yea, now my classes are over and I am not really sure what I am going to do with myself in the coming weeks, hopefully not get roped into more English classes. The 16th was one of my host brother’s birthday. A bunch of extended family came into town to celebrate. It was interesting. As I may have mentioned, my host siblings are not exactly the most angelic of children (if kids had settings theirs would seem to be stuck permanently on “whine,” occasionally slipping into “total meltdown over nothing”). It is a pain but they are fun to be around in their good moments (and occasionally their bad moments are so ridiculous it is funny). However, apparently this trait runs in the family. So with the addition of three cousins I began to get slightly overwhelmed. A sample day: 8 am, I go into the house to eat cornflakes, 4 year old wants coke for breakfast. There is no coke in the house. “COOOOOKKKKKKEEEEEEE WANNNNNTTT COOOKKKKKKEEEEEE WAAAANNNNNTTT COOOOKKKEE” I shove my cornflakes down my throat so fast I almost choke in an effort to get out of there. 8:30, I wash my clothes at the pila, all the kids want me to set up a badminton* net because the instructions are in English (badminton? Really?). I attempt to set up the net while 5 kids attempt to help me (ie crawl on me and grab things from me). One kid is holding some badminton doohickey, another wants said doohickey “I WANNNNNNT I NEEEEEEEED AHHHHAKDFJLEWIF” I tell them no one will be playing badminton unless they all sit on the stairs and hush. This has no effect. I continue to set up badminton. 9:00, one kid has 5 lemps for snacks, another has 4, world war 3 follows. Lunch time: repeat of the coke scene from earlier……you get the point, will not be overwhelmingly sad to see the extended family leave. * I always thought badminton was badmitten. Apparently it is not. Unless badminton means something else and spell check is fooling me. I guess badmitten is a stupid name considering there are no mittens in badminton, let alone bad ones. Luckily for me, the Intibuca volunteers planned a holiday party in La Esperanza so I was able to escape for a couple days. We made Christmas cookies and our host was lovely enough to keep us stuffed full of homemade snack foods all day. We also had some truly terrible mixed drink combinations, which seemed like a wonderful idea at the time. We sat around all day listening to Christmas music and talking. Around 10 two backpackers showed up, one from Australia and the other from Argentina. They joined in the festivities. It was a lot of fun. The next day we all ran various errands, made some guacamole (which is christmasy because it is green and red…) and then watched a Christmas movie. Afterwards the girls watched a black market copy of New Moon while the guys made, and served, us pizza and beer. It was definitely a wonderful way to spend the day. The next day I returned to the land where the wrong sort of whine flows freely. Christmas Eve was certainly an experience. I spent a majority of the day helping make tamales, which are corn flour blobs with some chunks of meat, peas, etc wrapped in palm leaves. I am not a huge fan of tamales and really don’t get why people spend so much time making them because they aren’t even that great and are super labor intensive. But, I helped nonetheless. During a brief tamale intermission, I was in the kitchen helping my host mom prep the giant chunk of pig she was going to cook in the oven. She had already turned the oven on and was waiting for it to preheat. In the middle of smearing stuff on the giant slab of meat I looked over and saw smoke pouring out of the oven. Although I am no expert on Honduran appliances, I figured this was wrong. I alerted my host mom and she proceeded to yank and giant plastic bucket filled with bread and a cloth out of the oven and throw it on the kitchen floor. The bucket and the cloth were on fire, consequently there was a giant fireball on the kitchen floor. Everyone stood around looking at it for a couple seconds and then I grabbed another bucket with about an inch of water in it and threw it on the fire. Then I started trying to stamp it out with my flipflops (less than intelligent). Luckily the fire went out and we were able to continue tamale making within minutes. Later that day I looked out in the field and saw my host siblings and cousins playing a very interesting game. The 12 year old was on his motorcycle (full grown motorcycle, 70 pound boy, good combo) and the rest of the kids were chasing him around the field. Playing tag with a motorcycle, never a good idea. Especially when the driver of the motorcycle can’t touch the ground with his feet and just learned to drive it a week ago. Luckily and surprisingly, there were no major injuries. Those came later. After dinner all of the kids made a bonfire in the field. They sat around it and lit fireworks. And by fireworks, I mean little bombs and fireballs. And by all the kids I mean ALL the kids, including the 4 year olds. Nothing like watching kids that can’t tie their shoes play with explosives. My host brother decided that he should probably put the motorcycle in the garage (wouldn’t want the inanimate object to be harmed by explosives). He turned on the bike and attempted to walk beside it and roll it into the garage. It was working fine but then he had to go up a little hill to turn the bike around. This is when the trouble started. He gunned the motor to get the bike up the hill and (not surprisingly) the 400 pound bike pulled the 70 pound boy off the ground. The bike roared right through the crowd of us standing around the bonfire. It clipped grandma and then hit the 9 year old cousin, then fell over pinning the cousin and my host brother dangerously close to the bonfire. I managed to wrestle the bike off the kids and luckily there were no serious injuries, only some scrapes and bruises. Considering the multitude of dangerous activities the kids partook in that day, I think they got off easy. In Honduras, it is tradition to stay up until 12 and eat dinner then on Christmas Eve. We didn’t eat dinner at 12 because of all the kids but my host mom, aunts, abuela, and dad stayed up until 12 talking. At 12 we all hugged and then my abuela burst into tears. A couple months ago one of her daughters died (allegedly of H1N1) so this Christmas was difficult for all of them. Then everyone in the room started crying and I awkwardly sat at the table and fiddled with the table cloth. I felt terrible for all of them because I know it was hard for me to deal with Christmas without my family and they are just in the states, not gone forever. Needless to say, this was a rather sobering experience and I hope they all find some peace in the coming year.On Christmas day we planned to get up really early and head to El Salvador around 6am to go to the beach. I dutifully set my alarm and was up and ready to go at 5:30. I walked down to the house to eat breakfast and realized no one was actually awake. So I returned to my bed for another hour and tried again. This time, people were actually sort of awake so I ate and then sat around for a couple hours waiting to leave. We ended up leaving the house around 8:15. Since we left so late, we decided not to go all the way to the beach, but to go to a river instead (bummer). A big bonus in El Salvador is paved roads. I had forgotten what it felt like to go over 30 miles an hour. We went to the river and swam and had lunch. I was a big hit because I can actually swim and they constantly requested that I go back in the water so they could watch me swim (a bit awkward). A couple hours later we headed home. By the time we got home I was exhausted (the car ride home was basically one long meltdown for all the kids) and I called the parentals and then went to bed early.Yesterday my host mom asked me if I wanted to go to Llano Grande, one of the aldeas. I assumed we were going to her mom’s house to eat lunch so I said yes. Little did I know we were actually going to a political rally to mooch carne asada. It was a very awkward assembly and very hot with very little shade and they ended up running out of food. During the speeches a bolo (drunk) kept walking up to the speakers and trying to shake their hands, which was amusing. We left after we realized there was no food to be had and piled in the pickup truck to go home. About halfway home my host mom (who was sitting in the back) started pounding on the roof and telling us to stop. My host dad pulled over to see what was wrong. She informed us that there was a bolo passed out in a ditch on the side of the road and we may or may not have run over his leg. We all ran to the bolo (who was in fact, the same bolo shaking everyone’s hands a few minutes earlier) to see if he was all right. He was in and out of it but someone said he claimed a motorcycle ran over his leg, not the truck. We loaded him in another truck and they drove him into town and someone called the doctor (who, coincidently, is also the mayor and who was one of the speakers at the rally). The truck dropped him off at the pharmacy where the doctor works and we waited for him to get there. Once he arrived he gave the bolo a shot of something in his butt (keep in mind that half the town was in the pharmacy watching this process, including me) and told my host dad to take him home so he could sleep it off. We did. I am still unclear as to whether we ran over him, he fell, or he was hit by a motorcycle (it turns out the guy that was claiming he said he was hit by a motorcycle was also a bolo so…who knows). I am also not sure if his leg was actually broken. I am sure I will hear more about it later, and I am sure I will see him passed out on his usual corner soon and I can check out if he has a cast or not. So, in summary, I have had a very interesting Christmas. There have been several near disasters. The crazy thing about all of this is that it seems pretty normal to me now. Well, not normal, but less major than it would have seemed a couple months ago. If I had been in a car that could have possibly run over a man’s leg in the states, it would have been a big freaking deal. Here, not so much. It is pretty much already forgotten about. If I had seen a 12 year old run a motorcycle into a crowd of people in the states, again, it would have been a big deal. Here I just had to make sure I didn’t tell my host dad about it because he would get mad. I don’t really know if this is a good thing, or a bad thing, or just life, but I am hoping that the disasters stay minimal, especially considering I am about to go hike up a mountain for New Years. Yes, that’s right, I am climbing a mountain. Slightly different than last year’s celebration (although I might wear the same outfit…). That being said, I will probably not have cell phone service for the next couple days so, happy New Years, love you all and just think, you only have to suffer through one more holiday season sans Sarah. Try not to be too bolo this New Years, and if you are keep your legs out of the road.

ps. there are some new pictures up, enjoy

Every time I sit down to write a blog entry I hate myself for a couple minutes because I put it off so long and then can’t remember what I wanted to write about. Then I sit for a couple more minutes and try to figure out how I want to organize my inevitable word vomit. Then I get over it and just make bullet marks (fyi). I am officially old and wrinkly. I hesitate to type it, but it is time to face the facts. I am now 24 years old. I am almost one fourth of a century old. Sick. Obviously I do not handle birthdays well. They always make me feel as though I haven’t accomplished anything. I guess given that I recently hauled off and moved to a different country should make me feel slightly more accomplished but alas, I still don’t know what I am doing with my life so I don’t. And I think I am getting crow’s feet. My birthday here was pretty interesting. Certainly more interesting than last year’s at least (which involved me sitting alone in my room, listening to Simon and Garfunkel, and working on my thesis, wooooo). One of my counterparts made it his personal mission to inform everyone in town it was my birthday so I had quite a few random people tell me felicidades. I had classes with the elementary schoolers in the morning and a couple of the other teachers had all the kids sing happy birthday to me. Having about 60 Honduran kids singing to you and then sprinting at you in an effort to be the first to get in a hug is definitely a good way to start out a birthday. I had a couple more classes and all the kids were really sweet and brought me candy and cards. Two girls brought me presents to my house (a magazine holder and a box shaped like a Christmas tree). I am really happy that my town is so open and warm-hearted. I was dreading the first Thanksgiving-birthday combo away from home but it has turned out to be a little less painful than I expected because everyone here watches out for me. Oh, also forgot to mention that it is Honduran tradition to crack and egg on the birthday girl’s head. One of my kids graciously brought a sack of eggs to class with her. She carefully held the sack with a huge evil grin on her face the whole class. Although I am all for integrating into the community, I felt as though I ate enough eggs in my effort to fit in, I did not need to wear them. Therefore as soon as I ended class I (maturely, as I am now an old lady) sprinted out of the room screaming “Fíjese que……I’m North American!” Dodged that slimy cultural bullet. To further celebrate my mother’s hours of labor I visited a couple of volunteers that live about an hour away. The ride there was a typical Honduran adventure. I was originally going to catch a ride with my host dad but he was leaving at 5:30 in the morning and something told me that Blair didn’t want me to show up at her doorstep at 6:30 in the morning (birthday or no birthday). So instead I opted to take the 10:30 bus. I tracked the bus down around 10:15 (there aren’t actually official stops, more unofficial ones) and made sure to ask the bus helper kid if the bus was actually going to my destination. He assured me it was. So we are riding along and about 30 minutes into the ride we come to a fork in the road. The bus driver then announces that he doesn’t feel like driving all the way to where I was going so I should get off and wait for a jalon (hitchhike). Gee, thanks. So I stumbled off the bus and had an “oh shit moment” when I stopped to consider the fact that I didn’t ACTUALLY know what the town looked like, nor did I know where I was in relation to it. Luckily there were a couple other people waiting in front of a little store and I asked them where they were going and a couple of them were headed to the same place as me. I then asked how long they had been waiting, they replied “oh about 3 hours.” Lovely. I sat around for about 45 minutes talking to a guy and his son and he said that they might start walking soon. I asked how long it would take and he said about an hour. I mentally began preparing myself for the walk. Just then a pickup came and we all hopped in. No walking for me! Just a really bruised ass from bouncing up and down in the truck (I originally was standing, but just FYI, don’t try to stand up in the back of a pickup when you are wearing a dress, it tends not to go well…) So in addition to my hours of English classes I also have been teaching computer classes to 1st, 2nd, and 3rd graders. I assure you this is as painful as it sounds. We have not yet progressed past the paint application. I spend most of the class reminding the kids that they have to press the mouse and move their hand at the same time. The whole process would be a lot easier if we weren’t all working with what appear to be the first mice ever manufactured. All of the hard drives are connected to surge protectors and one little bugger turns off the surge protector nearest him (and thus all the computers around him) every time he makes a mistake (which is frequently). I have had words with him but I can’t get too mad because every time I try to yell he gives me a little smile and shows me his 3 existing teeth and I just can’t get mad. Despite the cuteness of the kids I will be very glad when the classes end (in exactly 5 days, woo). I am sure in my next post I will be complaining about how bored I am without classes to teach but, deal with it. In my spare time, besides reading, I have been perfecting my skills on my ipod games. I am proud to say that I can now complete an easy Sudoku puzzle in 3 minutes and 9 seconds. In the game Who has the Biggest Brain? (a series of logic puzzles) I have progressed from having a scientist brain to having a cyborg brain. My score on my boggle-ish game has improved dramatically from an average of about 25 points to 75 points. I actually went through a period of time when I was inadvertently playing boggle in my mind as I was trying to go to sleep. Had to lay off that game for a while… I am sure you are all very proud of me. I know I am. It has not rained here for quite a while so the dust is getting pretty intense. The other day I was running and got to a portion of the road which had a layer of dust on it about 4 inches thick. It was a downhill slope so I got going pretty fast (and by “fast” I mean accelerating slightly faster than the average person’s walk, I am so out of shape it isn’t funny). Anyway, I am pounding down the hill and plumes of dust were exploding around my feet. Then I stepped on a rock. I realized I was going down and tried to stop myself which made my fall even more awkward. I went down like a tree in slow motion. To make this experience even better, I was running with one of my counterparts. She got a terrified look on her face as I teetered towards her, with good reason as I have about 3 feet and 25 pounds on her (I swear this country is going to give me a complex). Luckily I managed not to smash her into the dust, and sustained only minor scratches on my shin. So now I am an old wrinkled woman with child-like scrapes on her legs. To make this look complete, I sat in the sun the other day reading and the fronts of my legs are now a nice lobster red. I TOTALLY get why men in town catcall me (“Good morning I love you!”, “Baby!”) when I walk by, I am quite the package.That is all I can think of right now. Thanks again for all the bday wishes, miss you all!

I had my first site visit last week. That means that the boss lady of youth development came to check up with me. Things went well, she actually stayed with my family so we got to spend some “non business” time together which could have potentially been awkward (eating breakfast with your boss, not exactly normal) but it wasn’t awkward at all. She had some good insight and said I was doing a fine job (and she said my Spanish was better, woooo). Best of all, she came bearing packages! Obviously this was one of the more exciting things that has happened in weeks. Two were from mom and dad, thanks parental figures. And one was from Uncle Pinny, Aunt Linny, Ben, and Ella. Thanks guys! I got some good treats and movies and (best of all) a picture courtesy of Ella which is now hanging over my bed. I originally tried to hold off on opening all the boxes, but that lasted less than 24 hours. I did however manage to leave just one closed so that I can open it on my b-day or Christmas. I emailed itunes (see problem described in previous post) and they were kind enough to resend all the shows I lost. The problem? It takes at least 72 hours to download one show. I lost about 25 shows. Perhaps by the end of my two years here I will download all the shows again…My English classes preeeettty much make me dread waking up in the morning. I am teaching 6 hours of English a day and not liking it so much (probably because it is exactly what I was doing in the states). I am not a huge fan of teaching English and Peace Corps would rather us train the teachers to do it so that when we leave, there is someone there that can still teach. Teachers from the escuela sit in two of my morning classes to observe so that’s good but I am going to be glad when school starts up again and there is more for me to do besides teach English. The kids (for the most part) are well behaved. Some of them actually come to multiple classes a day (I personally would not want to come to one of my boring classes over my vacation but hey! Its good that they are so motivated). The other day I was walking around town with my 4 year old host sister in search of toilet paper (me) and candy (her). On the way home we passed a giant turkey. This is not unusual because I have to walk by him every day on my way to and from class. However, he started following us and making a weird noise. His gross wrinkly head started turning really red (it is usually kind of blueish, sick). I tried to get my sister to walk a little faster, and didn’t really know what to do to make him stop following us. Then all of a sudden he popped up in the air and jumped on my sister’s back. Who knew turkeys attacked? I certainly did not. She naturally started screaming and the turkey reared up to try to jump on her again. At this point I was totally clueless, what do I do? So, I swung my bag of toilet paper at him. He gave me an evil glare and prepared to strike again. So I swung again. This time he got the point and slowly backed off. My sister was still crying and I (I am ashamed to say) was laughing hysterically. I tried my best to consol her because I would have been terrified if I were her size and had been attacked (to be honest I was a little scared and I have at least 100 pounds on the thing) but it was kind of hard because I couldn’t stop laughing. I think the turkey was trying to send a thanksgiving message…you eat my family, I eat yours. On Thanksgiving I headed to La Esperanza to hang out with other Americans. We had a delicious dinner, and as per Thanksgiving tradition I ate until I thought I was going to explode. The whole day was actually very similar to what I would have done if I were in the states. We played the infamous piece of paper game Aunt Karen always tricks us into playing (don’t feel like explaining it, but its fun). I also drank copious amounts of wine, which naturally reminded me of my aunts. The only difference was that on Thanksgiving morning a bunch of the other volunteers herded a turkey from the backyard to another house to be slaughtered. I opted not to watch the predinner show. All in all it was a good time, but of course it was nowhere near as good as being with family and I missed everyone a lot. I also missed our annual venable thanksgiving feast and just as a heads up I expect to be very depressed Dec. 19th (the day of the feast). The bus ride home from La Esp was terrible. It was packed full and I had to sit in a jumper seat (a little fold down seat). I shouldn’t complain though because originally I did not have a seat and almost had to stand all 4 hours but luckily a lady took pity on me and had her daughter sit in her lap. About halfway home we got stopped by three pickup trucks full of soldiers with automatic weapons. Obviously, this is not the most comforting experience. The driver ended up getting ticketed (he didn’t actually get a ticket, they just took his license and didn’t give it back) because there were people riding on the roof with the luggage. I was really surprised by this since I have never ridden on a bus sans people on the roof so I assumed it was legal. Apparently not. The elections were today. So far so good. There have been a lot more soldiers/police around colo and my host mom said it is because it is a border town and they don’t want anyone to come in from El Salvador to cause trouble. I don’t know if that is true, but I am hopeful that everything will continue to go smoothly. Yesterday I was talking politics with my host mom and she informed me that the bible says when a black man takes office in the US, the US will succumb to communism. If anyone could please point me to that passage, I would love to read it. I give mad props to Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John because one of them was apparently able to predict a country, two systems of government, a period of racism and oppression, election results, and to top it off had knowledge of a race of people living thousands of miles away. Well played bible guys, well played. I finally killed the roach in my room! I kind of felt a little sad for a second, because I had gotten used to him. Then I realized that it was a roach and got over it. I also killed two scorpions. One little guy and one giant one. It was creepy, and I felt pretty hardcore. I am hoping to have no reason to feel hardcore in the future.

You know that scene in A Christmas Story when the mom is trying to get the little brother to eat mashed potatoes so she has him pretend to be a pig and shove his face in them? And he is making all those weird and obnoxious noises and it is really gross and you kind of want to either fast forward or turn the movie off altogether…that is what every meal is like at my house. I think my host brother’s goal in life is to figure out a way to eat refried beans and scrambled eggs with his elbows (if this is not his dream then I question why he practices everyday). Today he opted not to use his fork to eat his rice and beans, but, not wanting a good fork to go to waste, he instead attempted to use it to scoop his Tang out of his glass and into his mouth (yes, you might of thought Tang no longer existed but I assure you it is alive and well here in Honduras). Combine him with my host sister standing in front of the fridge sucking mantequilla (sour cream-mayo combo stuff) out of a plastic bag then popping the top off of the communal water bucket and taking a big swig and you have a guaranteed appetite/thirst suppressant. I have not yet found a way to fast forward through meals with the kids, nor do I think their parents would appreciate me turning them off for good, so I suppose I will just have to deal…or join them. There is a roach that lives in my room. Obviously I am not a fan of said roach; unfortunately he has thus far evaded me. I have plotted his murder hundreds of times at this point but he is very tricky. I think one of the problems is that I am just as afraid of the squish as I am of him, so a little part of me holds back every time I take a swing. I think he senses my apprehension because the little bastard literally does casual laps around my room, taunting me. I have a feeling Kafka was in a similar situation when he wrote The Metamorphosis, let’s just hope I don’t pull a Gregor and come home with antennae.I have been doing p90x, a workout series that uses resistance bands, etc and doesn’t take up a whole lot of space (check out the infomercial, I’m sure it is priceless). I hooked one of my resistance bands around the cast iron curtain rod in my room, and things were working well. I don’t have as much space as I need so it gets a little awkward, but I made it work. Then, naturally, things literally fell apart. I had been using my rigged up resistance bands for about 2 weeks and one day I thought to myself, you know, this is not smart…I bet this is going to fall on me. Two seconds later my hypothesis was confirmed when a cast iron rod smacked me in the head (peace corps will now probably administratively separate me for living without wearing a helmet). I have since modified my “gym” and I now string up the bands in the shower. That’s right. I workout in my shower. I am that dedicated to physical fitness. Or I am just that dedicated to having something to do for 90 minutes every day. Probably the latter. This past weekend I ventured to La Esperanza again for a little welcome party with a bunch of other volunteers in Intibuca. I sat wedged in between a man and his sack of who knows what and Jesus. Granted it wasn’t ACTUALLY Jesus, but it was a larger than life picture of his head (crown of thorns and blood included) painted on the window. While I appreciate the sentiment, I have to say it was a little unnerving to turn to look out the window and come face to face with a very bloody son of god. Anyway, that trip lasted a little over 4 hours (I left the house at 4:50 am and got to La esp at like 9:30). When I got there I decided to walk around a bit to familiarize myself with the town. This would have been a much more pleasant experience if a) it wasn’t raining; b) the streets were paved (or at least not made solely of mud); or c) I wasn’t exhausted from getting up at 4. Anyway, I poked around, ate some breakfast, and then met up with the other volunteers. We hung out and walked around all day and then we ate a delicious dinner (pizza) made by our regional coordinator. The next day we had pancakes and then squished (mud) our way to the “supermarket” and the bus station to head home. It was a rather grueling ride considering the fact that I barely slept the whole weekend but all in all the trip was worth it because I got to speak gringo, eat good food, and now I know some more people in my area. So due to the incredible success of my first attempt to teach English to the 6th graders, the director of the colegio and I decided it would be best to hold a meeting with the kids and parents of 6th grade. Friday I was in the colegio and the director said “Why don’t you run over to the escuela and confirm a 9:00 Monday morning meeting with the teacher.” Sure, seeing as I am currently shuffling papers around on my desk…I think I could take a break from that. I walked towards the escuela and noticed a large crowd in front of the cultural center (cultural center=big empty building). Then I noticed that the crowd was wearing graduation robes and was, in fact, the 6th grade. I was sent to confirm a meeting in the middle of a graduation. I dutifully confirmed with the rather harried looking teacher and was subsequently invited to attend the graduation. Three hours, 2 prayers, 6 songs, and 2 introductions of each child and family later, I stumbled out of the cultural center and had a lovely lunch with a family in town (the lunch was lovely, I was not…I still have not mastered the art of delicately eating chicken etc with my fingers). Anyway, the meeting time was set and I arrived at the colegio at 9:00 Monday morning. There was not a 6th grader to be found. I quickly ran over to the escuela in case they thought the meeting was there. No one. I ran back to the colegio to see if anyone showed up while I was at the escuela. Again, no one. I sat around for a little while longer and then, at 9:45, a bunch of people showed up. Now, as someone who has a minor panic attack when I am 1 minute late (I blame my father, aka the man that “accidently” had us show up to church TWO hours early one Easter) tardiness is something I don’t do well. I am going to restrain from going on the clichéd “why are they always late” rant but…Despite the late start, the meeting went well and I set up the class, and people actually showed up for it this time!My English classes have been going well, and multiplying like rabbits. I now the one class with about 15 6th graders (depending on the wind/sun/day/rain/feelings/etc), one class with 30 kids of all ages, two mini tutoring session classes, and I start one with colegio kids and another with the elementary kids next week. It is nice because I have stuff to do and it is a good way to get to know the kids but I am a little leery about teaching English for like 5 or 6 hours a day considering I reaaaalllly need to learn Spanish (and because if I am going to teach ESL all day I should have just stayed in the US, since that is what I did before I left…). It also means I have to say the ABC’s for 5 or 6 hours, which I assure you can be slightly less than entertaining. The class with 30 kids of all ages is a little crazy, and I can’t guarantee you they are learning a whole lot. It makes it difficult when some kids already know a little English and others can barely write. It also makes it difficult when some kids (2 seven year old boys) act like wolves the whole class. I may or may not have kindly suggested that the two wolves take a couple of laps around the school to burn off some energy before they were allowed back in the classroom. I may have also kindly suggested that wolves can’t learn English so only little children were allowed back in the classroom Monday. We shall see what species arrives come Monday, hopefully if it has to be something other than human it is a sloth or a turtle or some other silent animal (I don’t actually know if sloths make a noise, they seem quiet). Today while I was writing the above, I received a call from one of my counterparts. She asked me where I was, I said at home. Then she said, “Okay, well come here right now because (fíjese que) we are having a meeting with UNICEF and we want you to come.” So, I sprint down to the office and arrive about halfway through the meeting. Since I was the only one to get a mid-meeting notification of said meeting, and the only one not fluent in Spanish, I was slightly lost. It turns out the UNICEF has donated a bunch of supplies to Colo but they want us to build a building/provide a special building to put it in. The building could potentially be a library. Guess who is now UNICEFs go to person, yup that’s right, me…the only one with barely a clue as to what exactly it is all the parties want. It is going to be interesting. Although I am sort of at a loss as to what exactly is expected of me, I am excited to have a project that could potentially involve a library and does not involve English.I think itunes has a personal grudge against me. It has some sort of virus (despite the fact that I have scanned it with a million different virus scanners and come up with nothing) and it is deleting all the things that I hold most dear. It deleted 3 seasons of it’s always sunny, a season of the wire, 2 seasons of the office, all my Corey Smith songs, Billy Joel, and some random other music that is important to me and may or may not be too embarrassing to publicly admit to. If anyone has any helpful suggestions as to how to get this monster to stop ruining my life and stealing my precious entertainment…let me know.

Well, it is Saturday night so I thought I would get a little wild and crazy and write a blog entry. It is 7:00 right now and I am already halfway in my pjs but don’t think I am too lame because I am listening to the new Britney Spears song in honor of the weekend (shockingly Britney just doesn’t seem that talented sans drink in hand). Things have been up and down, sometimes I feel like I am 15 again with the way my mood changes every 7 seconds. I have warm and fuzzy happy moments and “what the hell am I doing here” moments. I haven’t had any moments yet when I have my suitcase packed and am headed for the nearest airport but I have definitely considered walking home just for something to do…Anyway, that’s my mental status in case you were wondering. Now more random stories:

Cold blooded killer

After hearing numerous accounts I have come to the conclusion that here in Honduras the number one killer/maimer/etc is cold water. I find this ironic given that hot showers are few and far between yet the population seems to be more or less flourishing. Therefore I will report the frightening cold water attacks I have heard about and let you decide for yourself whether or not you should fear the knob with the letter c on it.

In Talanga, one of my friends reported that his host brother and mother chided him when he took a shower right after playing soccer. They informed him that an uncle had worked out and then taken a cold shower and his hand got stuck “asi” (frozen like a claw). Then his arthritis got worse and he died. This story was confirmed when Christine and I were talking to the host brother about how we ran before class. He asked us if we showered and we said yes of course. He then retold the hand-claw-death story. We did our best to hold in our laughter. Then he told us that if we had to shower, we absolutely should NOT use soap because after you work out your pores are open and the soap will clog up your pores, and if the cold water doesn’t kill you that certainly will. I have continued to do the cold shower/soap combo of death after working out and have thus far survived…I’ll keep you updated. In Zarabanda my family was eating soup. To be honest, I was not a really big fan of the soup because it was really salty. Therefore I was glad that I had a giant glass of juice to drink. I took a couple bites of soup and then went to take a sip of juice when my 6 year old host sister screamed “Nooooooooooooo” and lunged towards me slow-mo style. Never eat hot soup and then drink something cold. You will get sick and die. Here in Colo I was talking to the empleada (the woman who cooks and does laundry for my host mom) while she was ironing. We were talking about an upcoming wedding when suddenly she stopped ironing and looked at me very seriously and asked “Do you ever wash your hands after ironing?” I was slightly puzzled by this question and just sort of stammered, not really knowing how to reply (no, not intentionally?? Maybe I have?). She shook her head and said “Never, NEVER, wash your hands after ironing, because your hands are hot and water is cold. I did once and look!” and then showed me a giant cyst-ish bump on the back of her hand. The only thing that kept me from laughing was concern over the true nature of the bump.

Flooding

The tank of the toilet attached to my room leaks all the time. It is pretty much my fault because there is a switch I can flip which will ensure the toilet does not leak but I always forget to flip it, and 85% of the time it doesn’t leak if I don’t, it is the other 15% of the time that gets me. Therefore it is not uncommon for me to have to mop up the bathroom floor with my sweatpants (yes the same ones I used as a towel). It’s normally not a big deal but the other day I came home and there was significantly more water than normal so the sweatpants just were not going to cut it. I didn’t want to go get the mop because every time I don’t that my host dad tries to “fix” it, which just results in more water (and the true solution is just for me to stop being forgetful and flip the switch), so I had to get creative. The water was concentrated right by my shower (because the floor slants) and I would say there was about a 1 foot circle of water about a centimeter deep. I concluded that all I needed to do was somehow splash/scoop the water over the shower partition. I searched my room for something thin enough to bail out a centimeter and settled on the plastic cover of a training manual (sorry Ronaldo). I then proceeded to sit on my bathroom floor (the dry part) and scoop/splash water into my shower. I did this for a good 10 minutes. The conclusion? It worked, I am the MacGyver of flooding, I have way too much time on my hands, and I share things that are probably best kept to myself.

Suprise!

On Monday I talked to the director of the colegio about when I would start giving English classes to the sixth graders. He said that he was going to talk to their teacher and then he would let me know but he thought probably the beginning of next week. I was fine with that and headed home for lunch. I went back to the colegio after lunch, to do some more sitting/tetris playing on my phone. At around 2:30 two girls walked into my office and informed me they were there for my English class which started at 3:00. Oh? I was unaware. Luckily, while I was sitting in the office that morning I planned an English lesson so I decided to just roll with it and give the class. We sat around and waited for more kids to show up. I was getting my papers in order when I realized that they were taking pictures of me on their cell phone. Sort of awkward. Then they started drawing in a notebook and shyly brought it up to show me. It said “Sara es mi mejor amiga” and had little hearts around it. I won’t lie; it was a warm and fuzzy moment. At around 3:15 it became apparent that they were the only two students coming so we had a pretty relaxed class. We agreed that they would come back the next day and try to get more of their classmates to come with them. The next day only one of the girls came. This made my lesson, which involved lots of games and partner activities, kind of worthless but I did my best. The next day no one came. Class fail. I am trying again this week.

Not long enough to name:

A teacher at the colegio came to visit me last weekend because she wanted to introduce me to her daughters. We chatted for a while and then she gave me three apples as a present. It was another warm and fuzzy moment.My host mom brought me up a drink the other day because it was cold outside. It was hot milk, sugar, and chunks of squash. I did not like it. The drink was warm and fuzzy but the moment was not.Learning

I finally got around to getting my Spanish tutor. I really like her (I plan on tricking her into being my friend). However, I have noticed that a lot of people don’t really understand that some things cross the language barrier. For example, she explained both commas and paragraphs to me. Then she went on to explain nouns, adjectives, and verbs. I am slowly trying to make her realize that although I talk like a 2 year old, I do know things. On a similar note, today I was looking through the town phone book and my host mom said “Those on the left are called numbers, do you know how to read numbers?” yes. This was followed by “Is your tutor teaching you the alphabet?” no, got it covered. I was really confused by the abc question considering she has seen me reading Cien Horas con Fidel (100 Hours with Fidel), an 800 page tome donated to me by the director of the colegio. It is not my first choice of reading material but I need to practice so I am slowly moving through it, a process which would be incredibly difficult without a basic knowledge of alphabetic principles. I miss occasionally being mistaken for intelligent.. or at least not being mistaken for a 2 year old.

Traveling

Friday I went into the “big city” with my host family. Going to the “city” involves a 4 hour ride (one way) over a road made largely of boulders, slightly smaller boulders, rocks that were once boulders, and mud (to give you an better idea of the road, it is only 45 miles from here to La Esperanza, so it takes 4 hours to go 45 miles…Jess would die of impatience). We got up at 4:30 in order to make it there and back at a decent hour. I spent the ride there trying to press myself up against the door because the guy (friend of my host dad) sitting next to me was falling asleep on me (still not good with the whole personal space/other people touching me thing). When we finally got there we had breakfast, which was relatively uneventful if you overlooked my 6 year old host brother bathing himself in mantequilla (Hondurans eat mantequilla with everything, it’s sorta a sour cream mayonnaise combo) and refried beans, which I did easily as he does it at every meal. Then we went to banks, markets, etc. We went to a “fast” food restaurant for lunch. My host dad spilled his orange soda all over his fried chicken and fries and then casually shrugged it off and continued eating (I think I would have thrown in the towel). We ran a few more errands, collecting people that needed a ride to Colo along the way. Then my host dad bought a motorcycle (don’t worry peace corps, I will never ever ride said motorcycle). He loaded it into the back of the pickup and we prepared to leave. At this point Colo-bound party included my host mom and dad, a host brother, me, one of my counterparts, 7 other people, a motorcycle, and various sacks of fruits, vegetables, etc. We wedged 6 people into the actual car part and then 6 sat in the bed of the pickup with the motorcycle. Sacks of various goods were shoved in any other available space. My host brother did his part in conserving space by wearing the new (giant) motorcycle helmet all the way home (gotta love 6 year olds). Due to the 4:30 wake up and the fact that I was sitting in the middle, I was very grouchy by the time I got home and am convinced that had my host brother not provided the comic relief by looking like a bobble head doll I would have blown.

Side note: the full grown motorcycle is for my 12 year old host brother, who still looks like he is about 9. Scary. Even scarier: today he was driving the pickup truck in (fast) circles around the soccer field while his 4 year old sister was sitting on a water tank in the back, holding on to the roof and the 6 year old was hanging on the outside of the truck bed. I almost had a heart attack.

Last week something I ate/drank/touched/breathed made me sick so I spent all of Wednesday in bed. It was actually kind of a nice break (I do not recommend the movie Love in the Time of Cholera, it is uncomfortable at best). My stomach was all messed up and I all wanted were some saltines and Gatorade but naturally my host mom wanted to stuff me full of foods that were “suavecito.” The foods I was offered included mashed potatoes, pupusas, and (the worst) atole. For those of you that don’t know, pupusas are tortillas stuffed with cheese and atole is…well I don’t even exactly know what atole is but it is a hot corn starchy-liquidy concoction that has some cinnamon in it and for some reason the particular type my host mom gave me was bright pink. The other frequently offered beverage was coffee (don’t even get me started on the coffee…I’ve heard people proudly say they put in two scoops of coffee and three of sugar, I miss black coffee). Although I appreciated the care and concern, the food did very little to settle my stomach.

Despite the fact that I was still feeling a bit green, Thursday I decided I couldn’t take another day in bed so I pumped myself full of meds and set off to work. I needed to get a signature from the girl I work with at EDUCATODOS so I met up with her and her friend. Her friend (Oneydah) works for the government (sort of?) and is in charge of projects promoting healthy schools. She is not officially one of my counterparts but I would really like to work with her since I am interested in health issues. So, naturally, when she asked me if I would give some charlas within the next couple weeks I agreed. She asked if I had any sort of supplies/props/manuals and I assured her that I did back at my house. Then she asked if I wanted to come to a couple schools with her that day. My stomach was still doing somersaults but I really want to work with her (and am a sucker) so I said yes. We hoped in the back of a pickup truck and started off. In retrospect, getting into the back of a pickup truck to drive 30 minutes down a road made mostly of boulders and mud when I already felt sick was a bad life choice. I spent the journey clinging for dear life on the outside and inwardly willing my stomach contents to stay put (I’ve already thrown up on a church; I didn’t want to move on to vehicles/people). We arrived at the first school and gave out the anti-parasite pills we were there to deliver. Then we started walking to the next school. Oneydah told me it was kind of far away and then asked what my charla was going to be about…Excuse me? What charla?... Apparently when she asked me if I could give some charlas in the next couple weeks she also meant that very day. I awkwardly stood in the road and stammered that I didn’t have any props, nor did I know a whole lot of Spanish. She looked so disappointed that I suddenly found myself agreeing to wing it. We continued walking, my stomach now doing somersaults at an alarming rate. Then a pickup truck turned the corner towards us. She stopped walking, gave me an apologetic smirk and said “I think we should just take this ride, because it is a three hour walk home, do you mind giving the charla later?” Saved by the pickup.

The next day I went with Oneydah to another school, this time I thought I was prepared to give my charla on dental health. Naturally, the school turned out to be significantly larger than I had expected so I didn’t have enough handouts, but I made due. I talked (mimed and stuttered would probably be a more apt description) to grades 1-6. Basically all I told them was how to brush their teeth, how often to do it, what food to eat, and that it was a good idea to see a dentist every now and then if you can…not the most inspired presentation but I did the best I could with my limited language skills. Halfway through my 3rd grade presentation Oneydah informed me that she was leaving…thanks, see you later. I finally finished up and began the hour long walk home. (Don’t worry parental figures, although I walk alone sometimes, every now and then an old woman or kid pops out of nowhere, and I am certain they are all prepared to administer a hefty dose of atole and/or coffee should some ill befall me).

When I got home, I was pretty exhausted but I ate a quick lunch and then dragged myself to the colegio so I could sit around and pretend to be working in the hopes that someone would have something for me to do. That night, I had the pleasure of attending my first Honduran baby shower (or, as they call it, a babychower). It was a pretty standard baby shower, with a couple of surprises thrown in. We played a lot of games that I assume are pretty typical at baby showers, although I don’t frequent them so I cannot say for sure. During one game people had to run around the room getting the signatures of people with certain characteristics (i.e.: person wearing a red shirt). People immediately sprinted towards me and thrust their papers in my face to sign. I didn’t have a sheet but I assumed it was something like “the gringa-est person in the room.” Then I looked at the sheet and to my surprise, it was “the tallest person in the room.” What! Never in my whole life have I ever been the tallest anything! I hadn’t really noticed my altitude until that moment. I can’t imagine what they would do if they met Jess, KT, Jenna, or Carol. In between the different games we ate food. The first course was half a mystery chicken sandwich, a dollop of nacho cheese and tortilla chips, a cookie, coke, and one marshmallow. This was soon followed by a tamale and coffee. Which was followed by cake and more coffee. Keep in mind that I was still sick at this point and I personally give myself a lot of credit for holding it all down. My favorite moment of the evening was the toast. Everyone had a little glass full of none other than Boone’s Farm, strawberry flavor. When I saw the Boone’s Farm label I literally started laughing out loud, talk about memory lane (and of course this particular lane started December 3, 2006). I hope to attend more babychowers in the future.

I have been in Colo for I think 11 days now and am slowly getting accustomed to life as a PCV. To be completely honest, I have no clue what I am doing and am pretty much making it up as I go along. I have been spending a lot of time awkwardly smiling and forcing myself into conversations. Right now it is hard because the school year is about to end so no one is really enthusiastic about starting anything new. Which leaves me with a bit of spare time on my hands but I have been keeping myself busy more or less. So what have I been up to?

First week:

The first day I was here I went to the colegio and met the director, all of the afternoon teachers, and was introduced to all of the afternoon classes. My introduction to the first class, I believe, is the keystone to a rather awkward definition of who I am. The director (who is incredibly nice and helpful) wanted to give me a good introduction so he proceeded to talk me up for about 5 minutes, using my resume as his inspiration. He started out by introducing me as Sarita (basically the Johnny version of Sarah) so now I am known far and wide as Sarita, which is fine with me but occasionally makes me feel even more like 5 year old. Then he proceeds to tell everyone that I am a psychologist (because my undergrad was psychology) which makes me slightly nervous as I am nowhere near qualified to give psychological advice (let alone in Spanish…). Then came the real curve ball, he explained that I have a degree in education and specialize in treating kids with dyslexia, which means “kids that have trouble forming words and talking.” Now, I personally have never worked with any dyslexic children but am certain that is not what dyslexia is (unless it is different in spanish). It also seems ironic that the girl who can barely say hola convincingly is allegedly here to help kids with speech impediments (I myself AM a walking speech impediment). His secretary was listening to this introduction and she made a bunch of subsequent introductions so now I am officially a psychologist specializing in dyslexia. Oh well.

The next day was Saturday and my counterpart (the one I was staying with) took me to a place called “La Pista” which is a big open field on the top of a hill that overlooks the town. It was a really great view. She explained that the area had been cleared during the war in El Salvador and it used to be a landing strip for planes bringing in aid because there was a huge refugee camp near town. Now the town uses it as a place for picnics etc. On Sunday I went to the market and visited some neighbors.

On Monday I went back to the colegio and met the morning classes. I also went to the gardin de niños (I love that name, garden of kids…it is the Honduran equivalent of preschool) and the elementary school. Then I finally met my host family and got to move into my new place. My room is nice, it is an apartment with its own bathroom. My favorite feature is my bedspread. It has a giant picture of a leopard on it and is velvety, I’ll have to post a picture of it eventually. Tuesday I observed an English class at the colegio (first words I understood in Colomoncagua), went to the Centro de Salud (health center) and tried to visit the mayor but he wasn’t around. Then I went to the local Coop to try to cash a check so that I didn’t have to take the 4 hour bus ride to La Esperanza to get some money. I wasn’t sure if I had to make the check out to myself or the Coop so I left it blank but filled in the amount. I walk in, thinking it would be a relatively simple process, but I was wrong. It was kind of stupid of me to assume I could just waltz in, a random strange gringa, and cash a check for a relatively large amount of money. They looked at me like I was crazy. Then when they realized I had not filled in anything on the name line they asked me if I had ever written a check before. I assured them I had, and I told them where I was living in case there was anything wrong with the check. They also examined my signature and asked if that was really how I signed my name. In Honduras they love their fancy signatures and my scribble is apparently subpar. I just pray that nothing goes wrong with the check because I can only imagine the chisme (gossip).

Wednesday I met up with the coordinator for EDUCATODOS. She basically told me that there was nothing I could do until the next school year but (after I awkwardly forced her) let me tag along with her when she went to visit a school in an aldea. She warned me that we would have to walk but I thought nothing of it, I welcomed a good walk. Little did I know we would be knee deep in mud, fording creeks, dodging barbed wire, and balancing precariously on logs. I am 100% certain I could not find my way back to that school if you paid me. But, all in all it was a good experience and I am looking forward to getting to know her next year because she seems cool. Thursday I went to a kinder outside of town with the assistant district director. She wants to implement a Montessori system in a bunch of kinders in the aldeas and the school we visited already has started using Montessori methods so she wanted me to see how it worked. The ride there was jarring to say the least, the roads were awful. I couldn’t decide which would be a better death, wearing my seatbelt and being slowly strangled by it as it tightened over every bump OR being thrown out my open window. Naturally, to keep my mother from flying down to smack me, I chose to wear the seatbelt. The kinder was interesting, I am not sure how feasible it is to do a Montessori program in every kinder but I am excited to work on it. When I got home I headed over to the colegio and sat in on some more classes. I almost fell asleep in the last one, it was an epic battle to stay awake but I knew I could not afford to make that bad of an impression hopefully I pulled it off. Friday I switched it up and went to the elementary school and sat in classes there. I think I am going to do that a couple more times because I actually learned stuff, particularly in the Spanish class. This weekend I did a lot of sitting around. Saturday night was the Honduras vs US soccer game. I went to Edna’s house(counterpart I stayed with) to watch the game and they gave me a Honduras jersey. It was way to small but I squeezed myself in it and watched the US beat Honduras. I won’t lie, when the US won I felt very awkward. Edna and her family decided it would be safer/wiser if they walked me home so I was escorted home by 5 people. A couple people bitterly muttered things like “you won” as I walked by but all in all it was very calm. Sunday I went to the market again and then sat around.

I promise that I do not plan on giving a day by day account for the next two years, but since it was the first week I figured I should be thorough.

Random Tidbits:

While I was still staying at Edna’s house I refused to open up my suitcase and dig around because I didn’t want to have to pack yet again. So I reverted to sticking my hand in my bag and wearing whatever I could grab. Unfortunately, I never could seem to grab my towel (and I actually opened the suitcase to look for it but couldn’t find it) so I decided the logical thing to do was use a pair of sweatpants as a towel. Yup, that’s right, I spent my first week in Colo drying myself off with a pair of sweatpants. That might be one of those things I should keep to myself but I thought I would share. I spend a lot of time sitting around. Roosters suck. Seriously, whoever said that they only make their stupid fog horn noises one time in the morning is a dirty liar.

Well. I am finally all grown up and an official volunteer! I am all settled into my new house in Colomoncagua. For these first couple months I will be living with a host family. They are very nice, with three kids (4,5,12). I have my own little apartment separate from the house, it is tiny but it is nice to feel somewhat independent again! As usual, I waited too long to write so now I have a million updates so here we go:

Counterparts

I realize I told you all where I was going but not what I am going to do. So now I will. The Peace Corps arranges for us all to have different counterparts within our community. Counterparts act as our liaisons to the different organizations we work with. My official counterparts are:

The director at the local colegio (highschool)In the colegio I will be being doing a bunch of random things like giving charlas and teaching English classes and whatever else they want me to do. I have my very own desk in the front office (however as of right now I don’t have anything to actually put in my desk…The director of EDUCATODOSEDUCATODOS is a program designed to bring education to those that might not otherwise have access to it for whatever reason. I am not sure exactly how it works or what I will be doing but I meet with the director for the first time tomorrow so we shall see. The previous volunteers did a lot of work with them so hopefully I will be able to help out as well.The District Director of EducationThis counterpart is my link to all the elementary schools in the aldeas surrounding the main “city” of Colomoncagua. I am not sure what I will be doing with them yet but it could include things like the Colgate tooth brushing program, environmental ed, and creative thinking classes.The director of the local elementary schoolAgain, I am not sure exactly what I will be doing but I am sure it will be fun. I went into all the classes on Monday and introduced myself and now whenever I am out and about I have a bunch of kids running up to me yelling “Sarita! Sarita!” I like them because they don’t care I can’t speak Spanish :)Swear-in! H-15 all dressed up

I finally got sworn in as a volunteer last Wednesday (I think it was Wednesday…) We started out the day by meeting our counterparts. The counterpart that came to get me is not actually an “official” counterpart but she works at the local colegio. We all awkwardly stood around and made small talk with our counterparts for about an hour and then we listened to some speeches about our group and what makes a good counterpart/volunteer blah blah blah. Then we had lunch and it was time to go to the Embassy to swear-in. I was pretty amazed that we actually got to go to the embassy considering it was inches away from where Mel is currently shacking up.

Hi Mel!

The counterparts all rode in one bus and the volunteers in another and we waited outside the embassy for about a million hours while they metal-detected and registered everyone (there were 100+ people with us). Then we went in and listened to some more speeches. At this point I felt really bad for all the counterparts because it was boring for the volunteers (well, me at least) and I can only imagine how restless they must have been. Anyway, then we all got to introduce ourselves in front of everyone. Naturally, I managed to mess it up. I got my name right, but then I said I was going to live in Comayagua, Intibuca. For those of you that are not Honduran department buffs, it was like saying that I was going to live in Virginia, Pennsylvania. Well played Sarah, well played. The best part of this is that I didn’t even realize I did that until about 4 hours later when Christine gently pointed it out (made fun of me). My counterpart also found it funny and we have had several good laughs about it since then. After the swearing in all of the volunteers went to the “downtown” area near where we lived to get drinks and food and said goodbye. It was a good night.

The H-15 YD Volunteers

Those are our sweet t-shirts, they have a picture of Erick (guy next to me) on them because he is basically walking happiness

Another YD shot

Please look at the back row, spitting image of Dylan

Traveling

After a night of “partying” (which ended when the bus dropped me off at home around 9:30), I had to get up at 4 am so that I could catch the bus to the cab station so a cab could take me to a bus station (yea.). The bus that picked me up near my house was specifically for the pcvs so there was a giant stack of luggage taking up about half of it (my refrigerator-sized suitcase was included in the stack). The bus dropped us off at the cab area where we were supposed to meet up with our counterparts. Naturally, because I can never seem to do things the normal way, my counterpart didn’t show up. Everyone else went on their way and I was left standing there with Erick (our logistics guy, probably the best person ever) and my refrigerator. We promptly drove to the PC office and frantically tried to track her down. While we were doing this the bus I was supposed to take with my counterpart and a couple of other volunteers, left. No one could find my counterpart so we decided that I would get on the next bus to La Esperanza and hope that she showed up there. So, I loaded myself and my refrigerator bag (and my other bags) onto the bus and set off. During the 4 hour trip the PC located my counterpart and she got on the bus that left after mine. I arrived in La Esperanza and spent an exhilarating 2 hours sitting in the hot sun, on the curb, next to my refrigerator bag, waiting. Shockingly enough, gringas with bags bigger than they are don’t frequent the La Esperanza bus stop, so I was quite the spectacle. What was worse was that there was shade just 5 steps up and a few feet away but the thought of wrestling my bags up the 5 steps was just too much for me (that and the thought of the whole bus stop full of people watching me wrestle the bag). Eventually my counterpart showed up and we got on the next bus for Colomoncagua. As a consequence of my overpacking, I got to meet the people of my new town looking like a lobster. Next time I decide to move all of my possessions to a remote town in the middle of a Central American country I am wearing sunscreen.

The road from La Esperanza to Colo is pretty much the stereotypical dirt/rock road sliding off the side of a mountain. It is pretty incredible. The views are great, as long as you don’t think about how you are 3 inches away from plummeting over the side of a cliff. Anyway, that ride took about 4 hours as well, and during it my counterpart fell asleep on my shoulder. Good bonding moment? Then we finally arrived in Colomoncagua and my counterpart informed me my host family was out of town.

Oh? Well then… where do I go? She graciously allowed me to stay at her house and so I spent my first 5 days with her and her family. They are an incredibly nice group of people and I am very grateful for everything they did for me. They took me in and fed me and flat out refused to accept any sort of payment. Now, even though I have moved in with my real host family, they all look out for me and have me over for lunch, coffee, etc. At first I was a little annoyed that I couldn’t move right into my host family’s house because I was sick to death of living out of a suitcase, now I am really glad I had the opportunity to get to know them better because it is like I have two families here now.

So. I am going out on a limb and saying that tomorrow is my very last day of training. Which means Wednesday I will be sworn in as an official volunteer, por fin! The last week or so has been a bit rough, with the curfew and all and I am definitely ready to set off. I know I already wrote a bit but about the curfew but here is a sampling of what I did during the all day curfew:

Stare at the wall Pout/be grumpy/eat feelings Try to watch Kung Fu Panda only to realize that the version you bought off the street doesn’t work, swear, repeat above

And once the curfew was loosened a bit/other stuff I have been doing:

Best day by far was this Saturday. There was only a toque de queda (curfew) at night so we all got together for the day. We played a YD versus PAM (protected areas management) soccer game. It started out a bit rough because we (the YD team) were missing our key players (aka the ones that can actually play soccer), but they eventually showed up and we had a good time. Then we all went back to one volunteer’s casa and his family had a BBQ for us. There is nothing like beer and carne asada to perk you up after a week of toque de queda-ing. Unfortunately, all of us that live in my neck of the woods had to leave early to make it home before the toque, more unfortunately it was POURING, but it was well worth it. I went to Pizza Hut with the familia after mass. Mass was interesting… I was planning on trying to blend into the crowd and pretend I knew what I was doing/what they were saying but we got there and it turns out there were about 15 people in the service…whoops. Sort of awkward, especially since I didn’t have a hymn book or anything to pretend to read out of. So I just sorta moved my lips and swirled my hands around in an approximation of one of those cross circle things (never did get that down, sorry grammie). Anyway, after mass we went to Pizza Hut, I am sure you will all be interested to know that stuffed crust pizza tastes the same in Honduras. (this actually happened last Sunday but I forgot to write about it earlier and it is obviously vitally important to report…) I have been to jail in a foreign land. Sorry mom, I know it is one of your worst fears (I’ve seen you nervously skip past that show Locked up Abroad). The story: after training on Friday a bunch of us decided that we definitely deserved a cold beverage. We went to a roadside restaurant and spent about an hour there. Then, we all had to head home because of the toque. I walked into my house and was immediately pounced on by my little host sisters. One of them was playing with a jump rope and had a brilliant idea: tie up the gringa! It started with tying up my hands and then eventually evolved into me being tied to a chair in the office. They turned the lights off and left me in “solitary.” I won’t lie, I kinda liked solitary, it was nice and quiet and kidless. Then they would come back in the room…this is when it got ugly. They walked circles around me and periodically smacked me with ping pong rackets; I now know why jails down here have a nasty reputation. And don’t you worry…I got to play jail again the next night! Unfortunately jail is not the worst game I have played. Hairstylist is. I don’t think I need to go into details but I will just say: 4 year old+6 year old+ comb+ rubber bands+ gel= pain. It also equals awkwardness because i have to wear my hair like a crazy person to dinner.

So…that is what I have been up too. Also I uploaded a bunch of pictures finally so enjoy. Please excuse my appearance in all the photos…I’m going through an awkward stage? I also added some pictures to old blog posts so scroll around a little if you want. Miss you all, hopefully my next post will be from Colomoncagua!

So in Honduras fíjese que is a very popular phrase. It basically means “sorry bout it…” or “I was going to BUT…” It pretty much excuses you from anything and everything. For example, say you agreed to go out to dinner with someone but you didn’t really want to. It is perfectly acceptable to fíjese que them. “Fíjese que…I was going to come but I didn’t.” Now that you have received that little cultural lesson, I will explain how our whole training process has been one gigantic fíjese que.

FQ Round 1: Congrats! You are going to Honduras! Ahhhh fíjese que…there was a coup, you are going to the DR first.

FQ Round 2: You guys are ready for Honduras! You are flying to Miami first and then straight to Tegus! Ohh fíjese que… the weather was bad/the flight crew was bad/the politics were bad, you guys are staying in Miami for a week

FQ Round 3: Finally! Straight to Tegus! Off to FBT! Time to leave your FBT sites! Fíjese que…you can’t celebrate Independence Day with your families, you will be sitting on a bus back to Zarabanda.

FQ Round 4: Training is almost over! Swearing in on Friday! Ehhh fíjese que Mel’s back and there are all kinds of curfews so your training is extended a week.

One of these days we are going to be real volunteers…I swear.

oh yea...and i am fine and safe and all that stuff...thanks for all the emails :)

Last week I left Talanga because FBT is finally over!! It was sad leaving my host family because I really liked them, but we had a little goodbye party with cake (which was then smashed in my face) and some little speeches which were very nice. The day we left was the Honduran Independence Day. Now, not that I would ever say anything negative about the Peace Corps but for real? Why in the world they planned to have us leave on a national day of celebration is beyond me. We all looked like asses carrying our suitcases across the parade route. None of our host families could understand why we were leaving on Independence Day and it did look super rude and unpatriotic for us to leave. Not to mention the fact that most of our families were participating in the parade in one form or another so we had to say goodbye that morning or the night before. But, that aside I did have a good last morning in Talanga. A bunch of other volunteers and I hiked up to the top of this huge hill really early in the morning (6:30) to get one last view of the town/photo op. One of these days I will get around to posting pictures…maybe. While hiking I managed to get nice and sunburned and then went home to have one last breakfast with the fam. Then my two host sisters and I went to watch the parade. Now, if you know me at all you know that I am not a huge fan of parades (I think the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade is boring and would rather watch the dog show or football). Not surprisingly, my dislike of parades crosses cultural boundaries. The parade consisted of about 10 schools. Each school had a drum line, 7 year olds dressed in something Brittney would be ashamed of, and a couple of kids in uniform. The parade lasted about 4 hours. I wont lie, I wanted to leave after about 4.5 minutes. But, I stuck it out, got a few good laughs with my host sister, and then headed home for lunch. Naturally when we got home, we turned on the local tv station to watch the very same parade, call me scrooge but I was still not amused. After lunch I prepared myself to make the 10 minute walk to where the bus was picking me and my belongings up. I was not looking forward to the journey as my suitcase weighs about 60 pounds (please note: I left another bag weighing about 30 in Zarabanda). I head outside and my host dad was like “No way! You cant drag that all the way to INFOP.” He then proceeds to put my suitcase on the seat of his vespa-esque “motorcycle.” He looked around for something to strap it to the moto but could only find one skinny little string. He tied it up as best he could and set off (at an astounding 5 miles an hour). Needless to say, this was hysterical to see and the moto was smoking a bit. Then he took a sharp turn onto the calle principal. Naturally, the suitcase started to fall off. He stopped in the middle of the road to rearrange and ended up looping one of his arms in a strap. This scared the beejesus out of me because I did not want to be known as the peace corps trainee that packed so much it ripped her host dad’s arm off. But, luckily, no limbs were lost and he made it to the training center unscathed. I walked up a few minutes behind him to a crowd of my fellow volunteers laughing and taking pictures of the situation. I will try to upload one asap (asap=as soon as I feel like it).

(It is now a couple days later.....)

Well, I am back in Zarabanda to complete my training. The three training groups are together again and it is nice and a little weird to be surrounded by so many gringos. Basically, we are just here to tie up all the loose ends and I am very glad that it is almost over because I am pretty tired of being trained.

Last Thursday I finally got my site placement! Woooo! I will be spending the next two years living in Colomoncagua (I was right). It is in the department of Intibuca and about 20 minutes north of El Salvador, so when you all come to visit, you can fly into San Salvador! Then I can meet you there and we can go to the beach, cheque?

Earlier this week I was really excited to finally finish training, get to my Colomoncagua, dump out my godforsaken suitcases, and get to work. However, because our training group has the worst luck ever, mel came back. So now, instead of celebrating the end of training and hanging out with everyone for the last time, we are all on lock down. Curfews are just as uncool at 23 as they were at 17. I am currently trying my best to ignore the 6 year old sitting at my feet attempting to entice me to play. Normally, I am not so coldhearted (aka am a sucker) and will play. However, after two days of playing “pING pONG tenIIIS,” being coached in gymnastics, and using a complex mathematical formula (aka counting ALL the dots and sorting them into random piles) to build an airplane out of dominos, I am rather kid-ed out. Seriously though, losing my mind a little. I am not sure how they plan on getting us sworn in and into our sites. I personally do not mind forgoing the swearing in process but I don’t think the government accepts IOU one oath of loyalty etc cards. I just hope we get it all worked out because this has been one epic training process. Anyway…I am really grumpy so I am going to wait for my normally bubbly and optimistic personality to return before I write anything else.

One bright spot: at lunch today the four year old was whining that she did not want to finish her food (typs) her mom said that if she didn’t finish it she was never going to get bigger and was going to be unhealthy, the six year old then pipes up and says “yea, that’s what happened to Michael Jackson.” That comment earned her one game of count the dots to build an airplane.

Updates:

I am bored. It is 9:30 Saturday morning and I have once again already completed all of my tasks too early. BUT the internet is being shockingly fast today so I decided to post again. Training is winding down, and I have mixed feelings. I am definitely ready to be done with the long days of classes but I will miss having gringo time. I had my final site interview yesterday and now I am about 98% sure I know where my site will be! I think I am going to be living in Colomoncagua, Intibuca. I am really excited because it seems like a really pretty place, I have good counterparts and it is right near the border of El Salvador. Hopefully my guess is correct and I don’t end up looking like an ass for posting this (although at this point it doesn’t really matter because I am pretty certain all my other entries make me look like an ass)… I will be about an hour away from the closest volunteer, not too shabby. Hopefully my Spanish will improve dramatically since I won’t be able to speak any English at all.

Last post I wrote about my host family and I want to take a couple more seconds praising them because they are really great. One of my host sisters is 20 and she is wonderful (despite the mondongo). She always jokes around with me and is very patient with my Spanish. The night I threw up on the church she was super nice and texted me every time I got up in the middle of the night to make sure I was okay. She also has sent me text messages on nights that I am not sick but have instead drank 3 bottles of water right before bed at get up every 9 seconds to go to the bathroom (it reminds me of when SVP and Katie used to stay up at night in venable and count how many times I got up). My little host sister is sweet too, although she is definitely 9 and definitely loud. My host dad only comes on the weekends because he drives a cab in teguz but he is also really nice. I very rarely understand him so he now just mimes everything to me, it is pretty funny to see him mime “do you want a drink?” I am really going to miss them and I hope my next host family is as nice. -side note: I just had to take a break from writing this to add more water to the washing machine, things were going great until I decided to try to use the handle on the bucket. Never try to carry a too heavy water bucket by the handle. You will have to finish writing your blog post soaking wet.-

New exciting food update:

Yesterday for lunch I had hot dogs wrapped in meatloaf. It was interesting.

Charla update:

This week we had our big HIV/AIDS prevention training. We got to give a charla about safe sex etc to 18 9th graders (the 9th graders ranged in age from 14-18). Me and 3 other people gave a 3 hour charla (it was supposed to be 4, but they had band practice so it got cut to 3, and they showed up late so it really ended up being like 2 ½). It went pretty well, my spanish of course was terrible but I showed the kids how to put a condom on a banana so I think they forgave me. Obviously this was pretty awkward but we all had fun with it. I will be giving similar charlas in my community so rest assured that all the bananas in Honduras will be STI-free by the time I leave.

My group for independent projects (the one working with the group for kids with special needs) also gave our final charla. To be honest I really was not looking forward to it and neither was the rest of my group. We felt sort of disconnected from the project but we gave a charla on developing good self-esteem. We all went into it expecting disaster but it actually went really, really well and all the mom’s that attended were involved and talkative so we were all excited and pleasantly surprised. Now I just have to prepare myself for flying solo!

Sad and slightly creepy update:

The kittens all died. The one named sausage died on Monday (my little host sister casually mentioned this to me over lunch). Then I came home from class Tuesday and saw the mom cat carrying around another obviously dead kitten. It was really creepy and sad. I don’t know what they did with them but now the cat just walks around all day looking for her babies and crying. My little host sister and nice/cousinish took this in stride and I couldn’t help but think how differently I would have reacted when I was their age. I would have probably needed therapy for weeks. I guess I don’t have to worry about one being snuck into my suitcase now…

Futbol:

As some of you may know, I have been playing a lot of futbol here. There is a 5v5 field with artificial turf in town and myself and other volunteers (and sometimes teachers) go there to play a couple times a week. It is fun and we usually attract quite a crowd. I am really terrible, I can’t believe I once actually played soccer (and neither can anyone else). I guess you lose a lot of skills in 8 years. Last night we played and it started POARING. We were all soaked but were having a good time. Then the lights went out and it was pitch black. We couldn’t see anything, let alone the ball, so we had to give up and go home. Luckily Jessie’s host dad came to pick her up so I got to jalon (hitchhike) home. I showed up on the doorstep completely soaked and everyone had a good laugh.

I am now officially done with my laundry and thoroughly bored so I am going to go try to find someone to play with me. Miss you all!

Well I have been in training now for what seems like years. The language training is definitely needed but I am about done with the technical training. We have gone to a couple different schools to give charlas about stuff like tooth brushing and protecting the environment. The actual hands on experiences are worthwhile but I am definitely sick of sitting in class and learning about how to implement projects etc because it is all really abstract. My Spanish is coming along very slowly. Some days I get really discouraged and exhausted by it but other days I feel like I have improved a little. It is a pretty painful process but hopefully I will come out of all this quasi-fluent. My host family is still being really helpful, they definitely make an effort to try to talk to me and understand me. The other night my host mom was asking me about the healthcare system in the US and we were debating the pros and cons. It was definitely a chance to flex my Spanish muscles, although I hope she seeks an alternative explanation elsewhere because I am not exactly eloquent. I did talk about how mike and char are in med school, so guys if you read this, now there is a woman in Honduras deeply interested in your futures and up to date on your educational pursuits, don’t let her down.

My days are all pretty busy and start really early. For example last Sunday I woke up and did the following:

Washed my clothes. This involves filling the washing machine up with water from the pila. It usually takes about 7 or 8 giant bucketfuls that I have to lug across the yard. Then, when it is time for the rinse cycle, you repeat this. The whole family likes to watch me and laugh when I spill on myself (see the laundry story later in this post).Then I hang them in the yard while abuela watches and tells me over and over how many people I have in my family (“there’s your mom, dad, brother, and YOU!”) She then spends the next several hours literally watching my clothes dry and poking at them. It is awkward to have an 80 year old woman manhandling your underwear.Ate breakfast, did dishesOrganized, swept, and mopped my room. Made my bed.Washed a pair of shoes, dust here is killer, mud is even worse post rainWent to the market, admired the animal bits everywhere and checked out the dvd area (I have a growing collection of children’s movies in Spanish, there are usually about 4-6 movies per dvd and they cost roughly about $1.50)Got ice cream on the way home with my host sister (strawberry flavored because it was the morning, and fruit is healthy…)Took down my clothes, folded them and put them away (it is hot and dry most of the time so they dry really quickly). Abuela let me know which ones dried first, also gave me the family count update (still 4 of us).Sat down and watched a cartoon with my other host sister. Looked at the clock to see if it was an appropriate time to call a volunteer see if they would entertain me. It was 9:40. How in the world?! Must learn to space out chores.I dallied around a while longer ate lunch, then went to the internet café and got more ice cream with Christine and Joe (there are limited things to do here, I eat a lot of ice cream). Then we ate in the park while a giant group of teenagers stared at us. While they stared at us, we stared at a bolo (drunk). All in all a pretty wild Sunday.

Now more random stories:

Food:

The food my host family serves me is generally pretty good. It is a little higher in fat content than I would like but whatever. We eat tortillas with everything. The other day for lunch I had potato salad, rice, and tortillas…aka starch for a week. Hondurans don’t typically put anything in their tortillas, they just roll the up and hold the tortilla in one hand and fork or spoon (usually spoon) in the other and push the food on the utensil with the tortilla. They always give me a giant stack of them with my food so I have to sneak some back in the tortilla basket (sidenote: as I was writing this I looked outside and abuelo was casually peeing on the fence outside. The bathroom is 7 feet away, oh abuelo). Several days a week my host aunt cooks lunch for me. These days are my everests because apparently all her kids are boys so she serves me as much as she serves her sons. So.much.food.Last weekend, my worst eating nightmare came true. I was served sopa de mondongo. For those of you that have never had the pleasure, this is cow intestine soup. Now, I have eaten a lot of things that I have not wanted to eat because I don’t want to be rude but I always said I would draw the line at mondongo. However, my host sister made the soup and I really like her and she seemed really proud as she dropped the m. bomb on me. So, naturally, being the conscientious pct that I am, I took a deep breath and took the plunge. The bowl was huge. I didn’t my best to just eat the veggies and stuff and not the cow bits. My host mom asked me if I liked it and I gave an unenthusiastic “uhh yea..” Then my host sister strolls in with a tiny little bowl of soup. Seriously, it was like a teaspoon of soup and I had a freaking caldron. I looked at her and said “Why do I get this GIANT bowl and you have that little thing?!” She giggled and replied “Oh I don’t really like it.” Shitttt, then why in the world am I sitting in front of a giant bowl of cow guts? So I say “No fair! Look at this giant bowl, there is no way I can eat all of this I am going to get fat!” We all had a good laugh and I skillfully avoided eating the cow parts (got to maintain my girlish figure?) At dinner that same day, my host mom gives me a big smile and says “Here, this won’t make you fat.” It was three giant greasy hashbrowns, move over Jenny Craig, there’s a new diet in town. (bad news, I wrote the previous earlier this week and it is the weekend again, lunch today? The mon. adios mio)We had to go into Teguz yesterday to get our residency cards made (yes, I am now an official resident of Honduras, weird). The muni d and PAM volunteers were there too so it was good to see everyone. We got to go out to lunch. “Going out” consisted of going to a little strip of America on the side of the highway. Our dining choices included: Popeye’s (not the one burnt down in the protests obvi), Wendy’s, Burger King, Dominos, Pizza Hut, Dunkin Donuts, and McDonalds. It was weird. We all enjoyed the opportunity to gorge ourselves on American fat instead of Honduran fat. I ate a ridiculous amount. Then when I got home that night all I wanted was something healthy for dinner. What did we have? Ice cream and cookies. I miss food groups.

Cats:

Our cat had kittens the first night I was here. Previously, I wasn’t very interested in them because they kind of looked like little rats but now they are cute. They have just started playing with each other and toddling about. The other night one of them broke out of its little box and I was watching it stumble around the kitchen. Its brother and sister soon followed suit. Now, I didn’t lay a hand on the kittens, they got out all by themselves. However, I am now accused of teaching the kittens to walk. They stumble around like little drunks every time they break out of their box and everyone shakes their head and sighs saying “sarah, why did you teach the kittens to walk?” Sorry. From now on I will stop secretly sneaking out of my room in the middle of the night and crawling on my hands in knees in front of impressionable kittens. They also really want me to take one with me. I am kind of afraid they are going to sneak one in my suitcase when I leave.

Me and the media:

A couple weekends ago one of my friend’s parents threw him a birthday party. Naturally, all the YD trainees were invited, and of course a giant group of gringos naturally draws some attention. His host dad invited the guy that hosts a nightly show on the town’s tv channel. He videotaped the whole party, including us awkwardly sitting on the stairs listening to a Mariachi band. My favorite shots were the close-ups of the birthday boy’s face. This footage was then played, without any editing or sound (only a music background), multiple times on tv. Awkward.

The following week I was running down the street at about 5:50, going to meet up with the girls I run with at our usual corner. I made the mistake of taking the road that runs right past the radio broadcast station. Later that day one of our language teachers asks “What girl is running alone at 5 in the morning by herself? That is dangerous.” Uhhh… I ran by myself for 2 minutes at 5:50 so I suppose I am the culprit. Apparently the guy said something to the effect of “There is a gringa that always runs by herself down the street at 5 in the morning! Someone should tell her not to do that.” Well, thanks bud for informing the whole town the road I run down and that I am alone for at least part of it, and also for grossly over exaggerating . Needless to say I have changed my habits slightly (don’t worry parents, I assure you I am perfectly safe).

Me and a couple of the other trainees have been working with a group for kids with special needs. Last week we helped them organize and prepare for a fair they put on to raise money. I was in charge of selling rice krispies. Naturally, my friend from the local tv station showed up and wanted to talk to the Americana. Obviously, this was awkward. I have no Spanish skills. I basically ended up saying rice krispie treat a couple times. Luckily, when aired, he did it without sound and added his own music in the background. Even though you couldn’t hear me, I assure you I still managed to be incredibly awkward.

Laundry Story:

So as explained, laundry is quite the process here. Either you have to do it by hand (something I have thus far avoided) or use the washing machine and lug buckets and buckets of water. I did it for the first time the other weekend and I had my host sister show me the ropes. This was my first mistake. In retrospect it was not wise to select the 9 year old as a teacher. I lugged the millions of buckets of water to the washing machine and started it up (my sister made sure to explain to me what soap is). Everything was going well, then I had to add the water for the rinse cycle. At this point an old lady had come over to wash some of my host mom’s clothes by hand (she pays her, something I assure you I will be looking into). She was standing by the pila, at the easiest place to get water so I had to walk around the the other side. At this point the pila was getting low so I had to practically dive in the pila to get water out. My bucket was super heavy and it was really awkward lifting it out from my angle so I ended up spilling water all over myself every time I got a bucketful. The old lady just stared at me and made no offer to move aside so I could get to the water more easily. The rest of my family found it hysterical to watch me soak myself. I finally fill up the washer again and it proceeds to rinse. The washing machine stops and I went to get my clothes out. Then my host sister says “You have to add another round of water.” This seems strange to me, since they have already been rinsed but I take her word for it and dutifully begin the painful process of filling up the stupid machine again. During one trip to the pila I stepped on an ant hole. Ants bite. A lot. Their bites feel like a bee sting mosquito bite combo. I had 28 bites on my right foot. Terrible. Then, to make things better, my host mom comes outside and looks at me and says “why are you filling it up again? Only twice!” Oh, thanks for the tip sis. She then proceeded to laugh at me for the next 10 minutes. Now, at this point I thought I had pretty much reached my low. I had soaked myself to the bone and did way more work than was necessary. I was wrong. I hung up that load of clothes and started a load of sheets and stuff. Then the old washer lady walks over to the washing machine, looks inside, and starts yelling at me. I have no idea what she was talking about but I did manage to catch her calling me a thief over and over again. I just smiled awkwardly and slowly backed away. I retreated into my room. However, when I have my door open it is a straight shot to the pila. She stood there scrubbing clothes and glaring at me for the next 2 hours. She scares me.

Midnight Mystery story:

The other night I was sleeping and I woke up because I heard plastic bags rustling around. I thought it was in my room because I have a plastic bag hanging up that has my reserve snacks (crackers and chocolate) and a plastic bag with trash in it. I thought maybe it was the wind or something moving them but then I didn’t see them moved so I figured it was something outside and went back to sleep. The next night I awoke to the same noise. I whipped out my handy headlamp and shined it on my trash bag. It was moving. There was no wind. Animal! At this point my mind was a bit frantic. I couldn’t stop picturing the giant rat feasting on my cracker crumbs. I debated my options: 1. Try to ignore the ominous rustling sound and go back to sleep and remove the (hopefully) critter free trash bag asap in the morning. 2. Approach the bag, grab it, throw it outside. I opted for option 2.

To prepare for my mission, I strapped on my headlamp and surveyed the obstacles between my room and the trash pile on the far side of the yard. I would have to leap over the dog that sleeps on the step but other than that my path was clear. I made sure the door to the outside was unlocked and wide open and I mentally prepared myself for what was ahead. I took a deep breath and crept towards the bag. I freed one side of the bag and jumped back onto my bed (in case the animal decided to attack). I waited for a minute, then went for it. I grabbed the bag and, holding it as far away from me as possible, sprinted for the trash. I leapt over Boxie and threw the bag on top of the trash pile. Then I saw it, the outline of a mouse skittering about the bottom of the bad. Sick. The cat, who sleeps in the kitchen with her kittens, came to investigate the ruckus. I like to think she got a little snack. I shut the door and went to my room, proud and relieved. I settled back into bed and then, I heard the kittens meowing at the top of their lungs. They had gotten out of their box to look for their mom, who was outside. Shit, I had to get the cat back inside. Midnight operation number 2. I managed to get the cat back inside but at that point the three kittens were scattered all over the house so I had to search for them too. It was not fun, nor easy but finally I extracted the last one from underneath the kitchen table and returned to my bed.

I don’t keep trash in my room anymore.

The Church

The other day I woke up and I was feeling a little sick. I went and worked out anyway but was still feeling sick when I got back and only ate a little bit of my breakfast (I also didn’t drink my coffee which is a sure sign of bad things to come). We had to give a charla about environmental education in an aldea about 20 minutes away so we all piled in the cars. The way there I was definitely not enjoying the rough roads and cramped car. I made it through and gave my charla but by the end of it was I was definitely not feeling well. We piled back in the car and I tried to pull myself together. About 15 minutes into the drive I really thought I was going to throw up. I even went so far as to pull out a plastic bag (everyone sitting around me was slightly perturbed). I somehow managed to make it back to the training center with no incident. I went home, refused lunch, and passed out for an hour. Then I had to go help set up for family day at a Catholic church in town. Family day (or cultural day) is a day when all the volunteers and their families get together for a potluck celebration. By the time I got to the church (it was about a 20 minute walk in 90 degree weather) I was really not feeling well. I did my best and when my family arrived I went and sat with them. A few minutes after they got there I felt it. I was definitely going to throw up. I walked out of the room as fast as I could, past a few concerned volunteers who knew I was not feeling well. I managed to make it to the sidewalk in front of the church and then, threw up. I kept moving and managed to make it around the corner before it got really bad. It was pretty much that scene from exorcist but my head wasn’t spinning and I was actually throwing up on a church. I finished, and then turned around to go back in the church and excuse myself. But, naturally, my ordeal did not stop there. As I turned around the woman in charge of the project I am working with yelled from across the street “Sarah! Are you sick?” Uh, slightly. She trudges across the street with a friend in tow. At this point my eyes were bleary, my nose was running and I was probably splattered with the contents of my stomach. She looks at me and says, “You look sick” and then proceeds to give me a hug and kiss hello. Then she introduces me to her friend who would be helping us with our project. I think it is safe to say I have never met anyone I would be working with on a professional level looking so terrible. Not a highlight of my life.

I managed to find my program manager and get him to drive me home. My family came home later after a lovely evening and my host mom started to ask me for all my symptoms. I told her that I was just really nauseous and tired but other than that nothing else. She gave me a once over and said “There’s only one illness in Honduras with those symptoms” then she stroked her stomach. She was implying I was pregnant. I assure you all, that unless Jesus is getting a baby brother or sister, this is a false diagnosis.

I can't think of anymore stories right now but i miss you all!

oh, and congrats kschmitz on the new job!!!

Sorry about the randomness of the following, maybe eventually I will start writing smaller more timely entries but…take what you get and skip the rambling parts….

I am finally in Honduras. Woooo. Honestly, I wasn’t always certain it would happen. I am not sure what exactly I expected considering I don’t think I have ever actually gone from point a to point b with no hitches (or lime green high speed chase/hit and runs) but it has certainly been an adventure getting here. The following is a detailed diagram (string of words with lines between them) depicting my journey:

Womb-Virginia-Good COUP byes- Miami Staging (aka South Beach vacay)- Republica Dominicana (3 weeks, see previous entries)- Honduras? Nope, stuck in Miami because of weather/flight crew/other rumors. They told us we would head to Honduras the next day. However, during the meeting held to go over departure details our (for lack of a better term) babysitter got a call, his face fell, and he told us we would be stuck in Miami (b/c of political shiz) for another week of Posh Corps*- HONDURAS!!

*I won’t lie; I did not mind the hot showers, ample spending money, or hotel pool. And I most certainly did not mind the complementary cookies.

Random story about leaving the DR: So the night before our flight to “Honduras” (Miami) we all had to stay in a religious retreat center because our flight left really early and it was too dangerous to pick everyone up in the barrios at like 3 in the morning. Imagine me in a place surrounded by nuns and religious paraphernalia. I was out of my element. We all hung out and had a decent time and then headed to bed early. I woke up in the middle of the night and thought I was going to die. Literally, I have never felt so sick so fast in my life. I was already planning what I would do about rescheduling my flight because in my condition there was no way I was flying anywhere. After spending about an hour in the fetal position on the bathroom floor (gross) I felt okay enough to get back into bed. I still felt sick the next day but made it on the flight. My conclusion? God does have it in for me, just a little. Thanks kt.

I felt like a 5 year old on Christmas morning when the plane finally took off at Miami Airport and we were officially on our way to Honduras. I was even more excited (or 5 years old?) when I realized our in-flight movie was Hotel for Dogs, I highly recommend this movie, it has a complex and well-developed plot and the acting is unparalleled.

Now, I hesitate to report this next bit because I want you all to visit, but… while I was enjoying Hotel for Dogs, the pilot came on and told us to buckle up cause we were landing soon. I tore my eyes away from the cinematic masterpiece and looked out the window to get my first view of my new stomping grounds. A rough estimate of my train of thought during landing: When you plan your visits, please keep in mind that I tend to exaggerate and that the orphans do escape and run the hotel for dogs with their new parents.

So. I am finally in the promised land. I lived in a little town outside of Teguz for about a week with a great host family. It was way more fancy than I was expecting, I had my own bathroom with hot running water and the family had a housekeeper. Not exactly roughing it. My host parents were great and there were 3 kids (10 months, 4, and 6). The older two were both girls and were a lot of fun. We played hours and hours of tennis (I use the term tennis loosely) and they got a kick out of my ridiculous butchery of the Spanish language. In particular, they loved when I referred to myself as a man. It is a little unfair. In English it is pretty common for a non-native speaker to accidently say him instead of her, but you don’t insult yourself (like: hehe she called him her!). In Spanish however, you call yourself out. Estoy cansado: I (am male) tired. I frequently do this. I (am male) happy. I (am male) excited. I (am male) full. It is awkward and I would think I would learn after being laughed at by a 4 year old on multiple occasions but nooope, I (am male) stupid. One day I will learn to embrace my…womanhood?

Random story: So the necklace molly and Erika so sweetly gave me to protect me in my travels is now a nice black tarnished chain because of my excessive sweating in the DR (attractive.). For some reason I got it in my mind that SVP once told me that tarnish can be easily removed with toothpaste. So, being the resourceful PCT that I am, I proceeded to squeeze out half my toothpaste onto the stupid chain. Toothpaste does nothing to remove tarnish. It is however difficult to remove from skin when applied in mass quantities. Please take a moment to visualize me, finally in Honduras, standing in the bathroom covered in toothpaste. In celebration of my stupidity, I opened SVP’s letter (I wanted to save my first letter for when I finally got to Honduras) Thanks Sarah! Misssss you.

After a week it was time to split up into our three project groups (youth development, municipal development, protected areas management) for field based training. Leaving training for fbt was hard. We have all been through a lot together and I really like everyone in the other programs and will miss them (sappy). But now I am in another, more urban town, with all the other YD trainees. We have 4 hours of Spanish in the morning, lunch at home, then 4 hours of technical training in the afternoon (and two days a week, since I am inept at Spanish, I get to enjoy an extra hour of tutoring after tech classes woo thanks pvhs/uva Spanish classes). Now, the technical training can be a bit painful. As you all may know, I was never a huge fan of the warm fuzzy atmosphere in my ed school classes and tech classes are about the same. I suppose I will just have to find my inner santa claus (a task made all the more difficult because drinking alone before classes is frowned upon in the peace corps).

My family here is good. I live in a little compound-ish place. The main building has the living room, 3 bedrooms, and a small kitchen that no one uses. Outside in the enclosed yard, there is another kitchen with a wood burning stove, the bathroom, the abuelos house, the pilla (giant cement thing for holding water because we only get water for a little bit of the day twice a week so you have to fill it up all the way so you have water on the off days), some corn, and a bird. My room is one of the three in the main house. It is a decent size but only has a window into the kitchen so it doesn’t really get much air. My host mom is obsessed with me keeping my door and kitchen window closed to keep out the mosquitoes but I have a mosquito net and enjoy breathing so I sneak them open. The mosquitoes here are not nearly as bad as in the DR but this is the first time I have used the net (I risk administrative separation with that confession). In the DR there was nowhere to hang it so I just doused myself in OFF every 10 minutes or so. I probably wouldn’t have bothered with the net here but there is a slight termite problem in the ceiling above me. It is rather unsettling because I can actually hear the little guys gnawing away. The net keeps some of the wood poops (I hate that word but don’t really know what else to call them) off me but I still wake up feeling like I slept in a nice sandy beach bed. Every night before bed I spend a good 3 minutes sweeping off a place to lie down. Termites aside, I like my house. My family talks to me and doesn’t mind my mangled Spanish and they try to help me. The other night I actually had a conversation about religion, politics, and higher education…in Spanish! It mostly consisted of me acting out how Mormons come door to door and ride bikes a lot but hey, it’s a start.

Random story: My first morning at my new house, I woke up and went outside to shower. The toilet in the bathroom flushed, which I didn’t really understand because the sink didn’t work so I knew there was no water. I jiggled the shower handle and nothing happened and I saw a big bucket in the shower so I grabbed it and filled it up from the pilla and prepared myself for a bucket bath, which was no big deal because that is what I did in the DR (I am SO worldly). I took off my clothes and got in the shower. First off, I realized that there was no small bucket for dumping water on myself. Shit. I scooped water out with my hands and did my best to get relatively wet. Then I needed to get my hair wet. I hoisted the giant bucket up and attempted to dump it on my head. This did not go well and resulted in near decapitation. At this point I thought I heard my host mom yell something at me but couldn’t really hear her. After several attempts I felt reasonably rinsed and got dressed. I left the bathroom and my host mom was standing outside with her daughter giving me a funny look. Then she said: “Why didn’t you just turn the shower on? There is a giant tank on the roof, there is always running water for showers” Oh. You have to turn the knob that way. To make things even better… the bucket in the shower? For mopping. This gringa is (male) stupid and (male) not clean after her shower.

For those of you that don't know/don't understand/didn't listen when I told you the first time, here is a play by play of my life for the past couple weeks.

I was nominated to Peace Corps Honduras early 2k9. wooooThe weekend before I was supposed to leave for Honduras I had an amazing going away party (thanks kids). While we were at brunch I found out that there was a coup in Honduras (thanks to all of you that simply replied "it figures" or "they must know you are coming" or "if you didn't have bad luck you would have no luck at all").

I flew to Miami for staging despite the coup and we found out that we would be going to the Dominican Republic instead of Honduras for the first few weeks so that the coup-ers could calm down (because that frequently happens within a week?)I lived in the DR for 3 weeks with a host family while doing language training etc (more on that later).I flew out to Miami, headed towards Honduras when we were told we actually weren't going to Honduras.So now I am in Miami. I'll holler when I'm in Honduras.

Where to start....I have been in Santo Domingo for about two weeks now and sometimes it feels like it has been a day, other times years. My Don and Dona are really cool, but they talk really fast so I can't understand much of what they say to me. It is kind of like trying to learn english from someone from the Bronx. Language classes are going okay, but we have lectures in the afternoons about stuff like how not to get herpes or what to do if you start exploding from either end of your body and I would rather just have more language classes because I am definitely struggling with it and I get really frustrated that I can't communicate. There isnt a whole lot to do here besides compartir-ing with host families and other volunteers (compartir=sitting around). We play a whole lot of dominoes. I suck at dominoes. I didn't know it was possible to suck at dominoes but apparently, it can be done. My team always loses. The old men (and women, and young men) here are incredible. They know what dominoes everyone has within like 2 minutes of the game starting, and proceed to pass you and laugh at you because they know you cant play anything. at the end of the game when you have to add up points, they look at the pile for like 1/2 a second and then say, Oh! 47 points. Ridiculous. Some of the other volunteers have started to pick up on the tricks, but my little brain cells are too tired from learning spanish to learn dominoes.

Too much has happened to put it all down but I will give you all a few highlights.

On daily life:

We do technically have running water and electricity. However, the water is off more than it is on, and seems to have no regular schedule. Therefore, there are huge trashcans full of water everywhere that we fill up whenever the water is on. I take bucket showers, which takes getting used to but gets the job done. The power shuts off a lot but everyone has generators so you don't really realize.We have chickens, ducks, rabbits, a dog, and a cat. I have confirmed that I hate all fowl. They are disgusting and huge and gross. The dog is on a very short leash. Yesterday he didn't move. at all. May prod with stick today. SweatI f-ing hate mosquitoesDay in the life: wake up, shower, bug spray, breakfast, bug spray, walk to center, language, bug spray, lunch, lecture, home, bug spray, compartir, bug spray, compartir, bug spray, compartir, bug spray, dinner, bug spray, compartir, shower, bug spray, bed. Have used up about half a bottle already. There is no cleaner feeling than when you take a bucket shower and then spray yourself with sticky bug spray and the process of spraying makes you already sweat through your shirt.On recreational activities:As I said, my spanish sucks. My Dona one day asked me something that I thought meant, do you want to take a bath with us outside. I thought, this can't be right, I thought I knew the word banarse but I must be confused. I wasnt. She whips out this baby pool and her and her two grandkids jump in (wearing clothes...ish). So, being the cultural immersionist that I am/hot as hell, i go and put on some running clothes and join them. This is fine for a while. The little boy pretends my legs are a bridge and gets a huge kick out of splashing me and spiting water on me (yummmm bacteria mouthwash). Then he casually says "pipi", stands up, and proceeds to pee in the pool. Lovely. What did I learn from this experience? kids peeing in pools is apparently universal.We went to three walmart-esq stores in a row last sunday. No me gusta walmart, even the dominican version.The other day, after an afternoon of playing (and losing dominos) and a little Presidente (beer) with some of the other volunteers, I returned home for dinner. There was a woman I had never met before in the kitchen but this is not unusual so I introduced myself and ate (fried egg, boiled potato). Then I went and changed because I was stupidly wearing jeans and was hot and sweety (shocking). I slipped on some lovely and attractive running clothes and headed out to compartir for a little bit before going to bed. Unfortunately, I somehow overlooked the massive family gathering that was occuring right across the street in my Dona's mother's house. As soon as I left my room in my ever so flattering outfit I was whisked across the street to meet the whole family. Everyone was dancing and drinking and having a good time and I plopped myself down next to a baby (making faces at an infant is a very effective way to avoid sitting silently and smiling stupidly) and made small talk in my broken spanish ("I Washington DC from me have 23 years, teacher was I"). My Don, ever vigilant, kept my little beer cup full to the brim. One of the nieces came over and asked me if I wanted to dance. I laughed and told her that I dance like a gringa but she kept insisting so I said "maybe when this beer is finished." She got a big smile on her face and announces to the whole group "She is coming!" Whoa, coming where? I soon discovered that the plan was not to dance at the house, but to go to a club and dance. Now, I enjoy a little dance party as much as the next person but there were several reasons not to go to the club: 1. I suck at spanish, and heading out with a bunch of inebrieated Dominicans to an unknown location seemed less than intelligent. 2. I can't dance. 3. I was not nearly drunk enough to approximate dancing nor appreciate a club-like atmosphere (Parents, I have never been drunk, nor been to a club. In fact, I don't even know what a club, or a beer, is.). 4. My Dona wouldn't let me. The nieces kept insisting (including an 8 year old grandniece, peer pressured by a kid! weeeeakk) and I joked around and kept avoiding saying yes. I tried the "I have nothing to wear" excuse but they shot that down, explaining that one of the sisters had a tube top that would look great on me (I am going to go out on a limb and say that was a falsehood). Anyway, I ended up saying I had to go to the bathroom and then barricaded myself in my room. In the dominican, I am a square.I played dominoes at another volunteer's house the other day (I lost) and a group of us ended up having a conversation with her dona about religion (and by us having a conversation I mean everyone but me was participating in the conversation, I was just trying to keep up and did not think me saying "religion bueno" would add much to the conversation). The teams were: the dona and her family (not sure what brand of christian but "reborn), vs a nonpracticing jew with various members in the middle or staying silent. It got pretty heated (not in a punch you in the face kind of way) and was interesting. More importantly, I actually understood about 80% of what was said! bueno. Lost at dominoes a couple more times, plan on looking up tricks of the trade next time I am in an internet cafe...On food:All I eat is fat, sugar, and starch. Most interesting meal so far? a GIANT bowl of french fries and fried salami.That aside, the food is actually pretty good. Lots of rice and beans and veggies, which is essentially what I lived off of in college except my dona and the staff at the center actually know how to cook.My Dona seems intent on making me explode. The other morning I woke up and my breakfast was waiting for me. It was SIX grilled cheese sandwiches. Six. I enjoy a grilled cheese as much as the next person (especially if I get to fling them right out of the pan against the wall a la preston) but six seems excessive, even for someone who frequently ends a meal feeling like they are going to boot cause they ate so much. Another time I was sitting at the kitchen table dutifully eating the half a watermelon put in front of me. I had taken about 3 bites when my Dona walked in and said "Do you want more?" No, I think just a half will do. The other day I was reading lunch and my Dona's nieta was reading a science textbook. I stumbled across some strange looking meat pieces and stealthfully avoided them because I couldn't figure out what it was. Then I looked over the the textbook and saw she was reading about birds. There was an interesting section that had close-up pictures of bird feet. Mystery solved. On transportation:To get anywhere you have 4 options: 1. walking, this is my preferred means of transportation, especially given the obscene amounts of fats and carbs I am currently consuming. The downside? You arrive at your destination looking like you jumped into a pool. 2. Taxis. These are more expensive, and frequently fake pirate taxis that kidnap you and steal your money. I avoid taxis. 3. Carro republicos. CRs are shitty beat up cars (REALLY shitty) that bump along the road and will hold 7 people at a time. They cost a set amount and you just scream STOP when you want the car to stop. They pretty much just drive up and down the highway all day. Downside? sitting on a strangers lap, wont take you exactly where you want to go, always afraid part of the car is going to fall off. 4. The guaguas. Guaguas are "buses" which are pretty much all old VW vans. A guy hangs out the side and if someone flags it down he bangs on the side of the guagua to get the driver to stop. This is the cheapest option. The downsides are the same as the CRs, upside is that they are a little cheaper and go further into the city.Today, I went to the store in a guagua with another volunteer. I had to sit near the guy that hangs out the open door. He proceeded to ask me for my number while hanging out of a van going 50 down a highway. I told him I didnt have a phone. He persisted, saying I could call him. I told him I didnt have a pen. He then has the whole guagua full of people looking for a pen and paper so that he can write down his number. The guagua got to the place we wanted to stop before he finished writing down his digits. He had the whole guagua wait while he finished. Awkward? slightly. Daniel/Juan (there were two numbers and names on the card) if you are reading this, sorry I didnt call. I legit don't have a phone but admire your persistence. On near death experiences:Lightning hit the training center. Plaster went everywhere. almost peed my pants.