I'm back! I know I've been slacking on the updates since I left Honduras. I still have a couple of entries I'd like to write about my backpacking experience. My thoughts are all on paper, but I have yet to make a cohesive story out of them. After I got back to the U.S. in October, I started working as a Family Advocate/social worker for a Head Start program and pulled a few extra hours babysitting as well. The jobs treated me well, but I still had my heart set on going back to Latin America. So now I'm in Brazil!

I'm still playing around with the blog design, but I'm slow with HTML and I wanted to update you all in the meantime. So here's week one in Rio de Janeiro...

I’m in love with this city. The people, the heat, the music, everything.

I arrived in Rio on the morning of Tuesday the 31st, and my roommate Fabiana met me at the airport. She got stuck in traffic on the way, and I was nervous for awhile that this random person I found online had left me hanging. But we eventually found each other and headed to our apartment. Thankfully she speaks some English so between that and my Spanish and broken Portuguese (or Portuñol – a mix of Portuguese and Español), we are able to communicate. No serious heart to hearts yet, but my Portuguese is getting a little better every day.

The apartment is in a neighborhood called Lapa. It’s next to the downtown area – a thirty-minute walk from where I’m taking classes to become certified to teach English, and a thirty minute bus ride to the beaches in Zona Sul (Copacabana, Ipanema). Lapa and downtown remind me a lot of Spain/Málaga – cobblestone sidewalks and streets, lots of plazas and pedestrian areas. Also, the nightlife in Lapa is amazing – a ton of bars and clubs, and on the weekends the roads through the main area get closed off so that it’s like one big block party. We have one other roommate, Wellington – ridiculous name, I know – and a cat, Kinya.

The certification course started the day after I arrived so I didn’t have any time to explore before jumping right into classes. Fabi was nice enough to take me to/from the center the first two days so that she could help me learn my way around. I have classes during the week from 10:00 am to 6:00 pm with five other students. The course is a good mix of theory and practice. I’ve already taught two classes with a trainer observing and have sat in on a handful of classes as well.

Outside of class, Fabi has made it a point to show me Rio, which is so kind of her. She’s very nice and patient with me, and seems genuinely interested in being friends and not just roommates. Last Friday night she took me to a bar/restaurant where her aunt was celebrating her birthday. We met up with two other gringos from my program and one of her friends and bar-hopped around Lapa. So fun!

Unfortunately, it was a very late night/early morning, and I had rugby practice at noon. One of the other girls in the program (Alexandra) played in high school so she tagged along too. And, of course, Fabi brought us there so we wouldn’t get lost. Practice was brutal. The drills/scrimmaging themselves weren’t too difficult, but the sun killed me. It didn’t help that I was tired and dehydrated from the night before. I had to take a break in the shade at one point. Not the greatest first impression, but it seemed like a better option than heat stroke. The team is small, both physically and numbers-wise. There are 10-12 people that show up for practice, and the women’s league here only plays sevens. They seem like a fun bunch (from what I can understand), but they’re a new team (only 2 years old) so they don’t play at a very competitive level.

After practice Alexandra, Fabi, and I went to meet up with Wellington and one of their friends for lunch in Copacabana. And then to the beach! Don’t worry, I drank lots of water and rested before heading back out into the sun. Copacabana is beautiful, but very crowded. It’s high tourist season here so it’s kind of like the Jersey Shore in July where you’re never more than a few feet away from the next sunbather. I don’t mind though. As long as I have sun, sand, and ocean, I’m a happy camper. We stayed until the sun started to set, and then we walked to Arpoador, the point where Copacabana and Ipanema beaches meet. It’s a great sunset spot, seriously one of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen. And my favorite part – everyone applauds! Apparently this isn’t the norm in the whole city, but if you’re at Arpoador you clap when the sun goes down. It’s that beautiful. Way to go, Sun!

On Sunday, Fabi took me to a churrasco, which is a Brazilian barbecue. It was being thrown by the samba group that she’s part of (she plays the snare drum). It was very similar to a Honduran barbecue or “carne asada”, except the meat was better and there were no tortillas or beans. We had grilled steak, chicken, and sausage with rice. There was also a topping/salad made of a mix of diced tomatoes, green peppers, onion, and olive oil – kind of like chismól in Honduras. Very tasty. After everyone had eaten, the samba group (named Enxota) performed for a bit. I haven’t attempted dancing samba yet because it looks ridiculously difficult, but it was entertaining watching others and listening to the drums.

Monday meant I had to go back to classes. Bummer. There’s so much of the city to see still! After class, though, I had rugby practice again. The coach wasn’t at my first practice, but I got to meet him this time. He is from Buenos Aires and speaks Portuguese with a very thick Argentine accent so it’s fairly easy for me to understand most of what he’s saying. Practice was held in the evening so I didn’t have the sun to deal with, but it was on the beach instead of a field. Rough! Two hours of training on sand, and I was ready to die. I’m so out of shape.

On Tuesday night, Fabi got me a cake and a bottle of wine to celebrate my first week in Brazil. Like I said, she’s great, and I really lucked out. Finding roommates online is really hit or miss. I think those are all of the highlights from week one. It has been sunny with highs in the mid-80s to mid-90s pretty much every day. Are you jealous yet? Come visit!

The month of August was a whirlwind. I’m going to try to keep this update brief, but I’ll probably fail. So here’s what’s up in case you want to skip ahead: Mariel’s visit, friend’s funeral, Christmas cookie workshop, farewell parties, close of service, and border problems (each is one paragraph). And check out the photo tab for pictures of it all!

Mariel (a friend/roommate from Cornell) came to visit Honduras for a week and got a mini Peace Corps experience. Since I was wrapping up my work and everything in my site, I didn’t really have time or money to travel too far so we hung out in and around my site for the week. She got to see Cantarranas, meet all of my friends and host family in town, experience a Honduran style barbecue, go out dancing in Tegucigalpa, hike in La Tigra National Park, and visit one of my volunteer neighbors in Danlí to try a lot of their famous corn products. It was so great having her here and being able to share this part of my life with her! It definitely helped that she speaks Spanish too because she was able to really get to know and converse with my friends. She said she had a great time and felt like she was walking around town with a celebrity when she was with me haha.

Unfortunately, right after Mariel left, a close friend of mine passed away from a heart attack. He was in his late 40s, but was overweight and diabetic and didn’t watch what he ate/drank as much as he probably should have. I got to know him through work – he helped organize the municipal and cultural fairs in town as well as the anniversary festival. I’m also close friends with his oldest daughter. He was a very generous man, always in a good mood, and always had a joke to share. It was incredibly sad going to his wake and funeral, but I felt like the entire town was there to show their respects and grieve with the family. He clearly had a lot of friends in town and will be sorely missed. For the rest of my time there, he was a popular topic of conversation – lots of town people were trading stories about great times they had with him, and I’m sure they’re still talking about him now.

For the past two Christmases, I’ve baked and given away Christmas cookies to my friends in town. While I was prepping to leave, several people were asking what they were going to do this year without my cookies haha. So I translated the recipes into Spanish and offered to give a cookie workshop to anyone willing to chip in for the ingredients. There were seven friends who said they were interested so we all got together to make peanut butter cookies, Russian tea cakes, and ginger snaps. Yum! I’m curious to see if any of them will actually attempt to make them again come December.

On August 29th, I had to leave Cantarranas :( A few of the new volunteers in the area came by ahead of time to pick up my furniture and other house wares since they are just starting off in their new (and unfurnished) homes. Anything that was left over was given away to Honduran friends and coworkers, and I sent a few things ahead of me to the States with friends. I brought a bag of clothes to the town hall and within a matter of seconds, everything was claimed! The rest of my possessions I managed to fit into a small duffel bag and big hiker’s style backpack. I had a small farewell party the Saturday before I left town, and I spent the last few days going around visiting all of my closest friends to say goodbye. Leaving Cantarranas was SO depressing. I was sporadically crying throughout my last couple of days, and I was a mess in the car when I left to come to Teguz. I had another farewell party in the city, which involved a million more tears at the end. I’m really going to miss these people. It’s so hard to say bye :(

Once I got to Tegucigalpa, I had to start in on a mountain of paperwork. Peace Corps, being a US government agency, has a bunch of red tape to get around before they’ll actually let you leave. I had a million medical appointments, interviews, and forms to get signed. I spent three days in the Peace Corps office going from one appointment to another, and was completely exhausted and stressed out by the end of it. But I did magically manage to get everything done and got a clean bill of health, so as of 8:00 a.m. September 2nd, I am no longer a Peace Corps Volunteer! Crazy.

Yesterday, I was supposed to leave for Nicaragua with two other volunteer friends. I’m planning on backpacking for a month through Nicaragua, Costa Rica, and Panama. Unfortunately, there were some issues at the border. Apparently the Nicaraguan immigration officials changed their rules a few days ago and didn't tell anyone. When PC canceled my Honduran residency, they gave me a tourist visa stamp that's supposed to allow me to leave Honduras and pass into any of the border countries. Now Nicaragua is saying that they no longer accept that stamp. The only solution they gave us was that we have to go to the immigration office here, and get a special stamp called a próroga that costs $20. Of course we discovered this Friday, when it was already too late to go to the immigration office, so we have to wait out the weekend here in Teguz, go to the office on Monday morning, and try again. Fingers crossed!

I know, 344 is an odd number to celebrate. They've never celebrated an anniversary before, but supposedly they'll be celebrating it every year from now on. They decided to start with this year because just recently, the town name changed. It has been officially known as San Juan de Flores for years, but no one ever called it that. It was originally Cantarranas, and even though the government (and Catholics) changed the name way back when, it never stuck. So now the central government (with pressure from the town mayor) agreed to change the name back again, and it's officially Cantarranas! Here are some pictures from the ceremony and celebration: Aniversario de Cantarranas

p.s. The pictures are up from the awkward family welcome party. Check the photos tab.

Here's a quick update of what I've been up to this month...

Enrique Iglesias came to Tegucigalpa! He was coming through on his Euphoria Tour. I was a little iffy on going at first because the tickets were so expensive, but two other volunteers came from the other side of the country for the event so I couldn't possibly bail on them. While we were waiting outside the stadium we met a few guys from Enrique's crew. I thought he would have more latinos working for him, but everyone we met was from the States so the gringos speaking English stood out. After chatting for awhile, they offered to bring us in to the Platinum section! We had paid for the nose bleed seats, but their all-access passes got us into the area closest to the stage. It was awesome! He put on an amazing show. About half of the songs were in Spanish and half in English, just like the new album, and he also threw in some oldies like "Bailamos" and "Rhythm Divine". Afterwards the guys that brought us into Platinum invited us backstage and to the bar at the Marriot to hangout. Unfortunately Enrique headed straight to the airport after the show, but we still got to meet the band - very cool group of people. What an amazing night! Pictures!

Last weekend we had a regional welcome party in Danli for the new volunteers. Normally it's divided up by department, but this year we (the dept. of Francisco Morazan) joined in with the PCVs from El Paraiso. We made it into a sort of competition between the two departments with an "awkward family photo" theme. If you have no idea what that might entail, check out http://awkwardfamilyphotos.com/. It's hilarious. El Paraiso's clothing theme was jean shorts with a turtleneck or pastel polo. FM (my department) had to wear floral (the more the better). I didn't own anything worthy of the occasion, but I went to a second hand clothing store and found a fantastically ugly ensemble for just $1.50. The game plan was to do a scavenger hunt, relay races, and a bunch of other activities all in these ridiculous outfits and take awkward family photos along the way. Unfortunately it rained for a bit which killed a lot of the motivation for outdoor activities. So instead we took indoor awkward photos and played some games inside and on the roof once the rain stopped (no one really wanted to run around town looking that absurd anyway). I haven't uploaded the photos yet, but here's one for a preview:

In other, not so awesome, news - a cat died in my ceiling. I have no idea how, but it got in between my metal roof and the ceiling tiles. I was helping with a training activity for the new group of trainees all day Monday, and when I got home I noticed a funky smell in the living room. I looked all around, but couldn't figure out where it was coming from so I gave up and went to sleep. I left home early on Tuesday morning to go to Teguz to help with a project to clean out and organize the volunteer library. I hoped that the smell would dissipate while I was gone, but it was worse when I got home that night. Again I looked around and found nothing, but then I noticed some maggots on one of my chairs. There was no reason for them to be there so I figured they must have fallen from in between the ceiling tiles. I was really hoping something hadn't died up there, but that's what the clues were pointing to. I also called another volunteer and he confirmed that "if it smells like something died in your house then something died in your house."

I went over to tell my landlord that I thought a rat or something had died in my ceiling, and he said he'd take a look. Wednesday I spent the whole day again in the library in Teguz, and I guess my landlord didn't have time because it still reeked when I got home. Thankfully the stink was mostly in my living room so I could still sleep ok in my bedroom. Yesterday (Thursday) again I was in Teguz, but this time when I was walking home from the bus stop I ran into my old host sister who told me that they had pulled a dead cat out of my ceiling, all nice and wormy. EEW. So glad I wasn't there to witness it and be obliged to help out. They used a lot of Raid to try to kill the moths and maggots that were left behind, but they definitely missed a bunch because it's still raining maggots in my living room (or I guess drizzling would be more appropriate). The ants have been helping me clean them up though.

I got back last week from touring the country with a theater group for two weeks. It was fantastic :) A couple of months ago, Rafael Murillo Selva, the writer/director of the play Loubavagu, was looking for help organizing and planning a national tour for the show. He lives close to Cantarranas, and asked our Cultural Board/Committee for help so Eduardo (the Board’s secretary) and I signed on to lend a hand.

Loubavagu (a Garifuna word) is a play all about the Garifuna history and culture. The Spanish title is El otro lado lejano, which roughly translates to “the far side”. The Garifuna people are a mix of African and Native American (or native Caribbean to be more precise) background, and they live mostly on the Caribbean coast of Central America. The play tells about the birth of the first Garifunas in St. Vincent, fighting with the locals and Europeans, deportation to Honduras, and their adaptation to Honduran life. It’s a really interesting play that I think is very well written to show the different aspects of their culture and heritage. It includes a lot of great drumming, singing, and dancing.

The play was originally written and performed about 20 years ago, and shown all over Latin America, Europe, and the U.S. (The writer/director is kind of a big deal.) The actors of the current group are mostly children and grandchildren of the original troupe that didn’t want to see the work die out so the play’s revival came about. The current troupe consists of 16 people ranging from their late teens to early thirties, with the exception of Cayetana – the only member of the original group who stuck around for the revival, although she no longer has any speaking roles in the play. The director said he wanted to keep her around as a kind of “museum” haha. The whole group is from the small village of Guadalupe, which is on the north coast in the municipality of Santa Fe, Colón, near the city of Trujillo. They’re all bilingual – Spanish and Garifuna – but they mostly speak Garifuna amongst themselves so I had to rely on body language and facial expressions if I was trying to interpret a conversation that I wasn’t directly involved in. I mostly just gave up on that and waited for someone to translate or fill me in.

On June 16th, Eduardo, Rafael, and I headed up to Guadalupe to pick up the group in our small tour bus. From there, we had performances in Tela, Copan Ruins, Santa Rosa de Copan, Gracias, Tegucigalpa, Comayagua, and San Pedro Sula (in that order). All in all, seven cities and eleven performances, finishing up on the 29th. It was a whole lot of bus time, but Honduras really is a beautiful country, especially during the rainy season. So green! In addition to the picturesque scenery, there was sporadic drumming and singing to keep me entertained. I didn’t understand most of the songs since the majority of them were in Garifuna, but it was still beautiful to listen to. I loved the group’s energy and had so much fun traveling with them.

As for the performances, they were awesome. Tela and Copan Ruins were a little shaky, but by the time we hit Santa Rosa, they had found their stride, worked out the kinks, and really come together. And a good thing too, since they were performing for a packed house – standing room only! The key event was in Tegucigalpa at the Manuel Bonilla Theater. The venue was beautiful, and the actors were so pumped to be on the main stage where their parents and grandparents had been 20 years earlier. Also, a lot of the older folks in the audience had seen the play in its original run and were back for more.

When we got back to village of Guadalupe, they pulled out the drums one more time and started singing at the top of their lungs as we did a little victory lap around town in the bus. Everyone came out to the street to welcome them home and dance along. Later that night we had a small party for the troupe and their families and said some parting words. It was sad to leave them after spending two straight weeks together, but it was such a rewarding experience. They were all so warm and welcoming right from the beginning, and told me a million times that I should move to Guadalupe for good haha. Even Rafael was trying to convince me to stay since he has a house there too and is looking for a permanent assistant. But don’t worry Mom, I don’t see that happening. It was still nice to have the offer though.

You can check out the pictures of the trip here: Loubavagu - El Viaje and pictures of almost the entire play (the Copan Ruins performance) here: Loubavagu - La Obra

Last week, my training group (aka H-15) had our Close of Service Conference. Close of Service is usually just referred to as COS because Peace Corps people love acronyms. Anyway, the COS Conference is generally held three months before the official COS date (aka when H15ers are supposed to leave) with three objectives: reflect on our PC experience, talk about closing up projects and all of the paperwork and medical stuff we have to do to leave the PC, and discuss what to do next.

The conference itself wasn’t all that great, although I did get some good tips on boosting my resume/cover letters and how to approach the job search. But the more important thing was seeing all of the H15ers again. It was the first time we had all been together since training. We showed up in Miami for staging with 51 people in June 2009, and there were 30 of us present at the COS conference. Our official COS date is September 2nd (which is when I’ll be leaving PC), but there’s a month of flexibility either before or after that date for volunteers to leave so it was also the last time we would all be together.

It was nostalgic as we reminisced on the past two years and saw a slide show of old pictures, but it was also exciting as we all talked about our plans for the future – when we’d be COSing (that’s right, we turned the acronym into a verb), where we’re headed, what we’re hoping to do next, etc. Very overwhelming stuff. Huge life changes.

After a week of quality PCV bonding, some of us decided to keep it going and we headed to Yuscaran for their festival and more importantly, their donkey polo match. Back in the ‘90s a PCV in Yuscaran thought it would be a good idea to have a polo match between Hondurans and PCVs with one twist – instead of horses, we use donkeys. The tradition is still going strong; it’s the 16th year they’ve had a donkey polo competition. It was my first time attending though, and the whole thing was very hilarious.

The gringos started off by picking their donkeys from a few that the locals had lent for the game. The Honduras showed up with their own (advantage #1). Everyone mounted their donkeys and took them for a lap around the central park to recruit fans and bring them back to the basketball court where we would be playing.

The match was five on five, and 60 minutes long broken up into four quarters. Since there were so many volunteers, we switched after each quarter, but the Hondurans played the whole game (advantage #2). I didn’t go on until the 2nd quarter. First off, let me just say that donkeys are stubborn. That’s not just a stereotype, they really don’t want to do anything that you tell them. In Spanish, the word burro means donkey, but it’s also a synonym for stubborn. Trying to direct one around the court in the general direction of the ball was nearly impossible. Hondurans are a little more accustomed to animal cruelty so they didn’t have any issues smacking their donkeys around and making them go where they needed to (advantage #3).

The Hondurans also didn’t seem to have any issues with playing dirty (advantage #4), and they kept smacking the gringos’ donkeys on the rear to get them to canter down the court, often in the wrong direction. This happened to me so many times that my donkey ended up doing laps, and I spent all of my energy just trying to hold on (we were playing bareback, by the way). Despite my best efforts, I still managed to fall off twice - not a very hard fall since my feet were barely off the ground. When we started I wasn’t even sure it would be able to handle my weight. When it wasn’t running wild around the court, it posted up in the shade and refused to move.

Anyway, the game consisted of the gringos wandering around the court wherever their donkeys took them and maybe hitting the ball if it happened to come their way. Meanwhile, the Hondurans, who’ve probably been playing for the past 16 years (advantage #5), were making passes and coordinated attacks on our goal. I think the final score was somewhere around 40 to 1. Pitiful, but still a hilariously fun experience :)

Pictures! COS and Donkey Polo

Sis and I met up for a week in Belize, and it was incredible! Traveling with Sis meant that our vacation was WAY more luxurious than PC life in Honduras.

I was planning on meeting her there by taking a combination of busses and a ferry, but the ferry schedule was so infrequent and inconvenient that I splurged on a plane ticket instead. We met up in Belize City’s international airport, which has a waving gallery to greet arriving passengers as soon as they exit the plane :) Our first stop was Placencia, which is about five hours by bus. Normally I would’ve hopped on the old school bus to get there, squished into a sweaty seat with three other people and maybe a chicken or two. I tried to compromise with Sis by offering to go on the tourist shuttle, but she decided that another plane was the way to go. So we hopped on a puddle jumper and were in Placencia in less than an hour.

Thanks to Sis’s work connections we stayed at the Turtle Inn. For FREE! I’m used to spending about $5 on a place that just provides a bed and running water (sometimes) so staying at a resort that’s mainly frequented by honeymooners was AMAZING! Fluffy towels, indoor and outdoor showers (with hot water!), turndown service (I didn’t even know what this was before the trip), complimentary breakfast with delicious fresh fruit and pastries, two infinity pools to choose from, staff that was more than hospitable, and our cabana was just a few feet from the beach. I was seriously blown away.

Our stay in Placencia was so relaxing. Lots of sun and just hanging out and catching up. We did manage to drag ourselves away from the beach chairs for a day trip to Monkey River though. It was a beautiful half hour boat ride from Placencia through the mangroves. We went up the river a bit, checking out lots of different birds and some iguanas and bats before we tied up the boat and went for a walk in the jungle to look for howler monkeys. The bugs were overwhelming. Luckily we had loaded up on bug spray beforehand. All along the jungle walk there were holes in the sandy ground where big crabs were living, and our guide was very nonchalant about sticking his whole arm in to try to catch them. Our guide brought his machete with him and walked down the trails banging it on trees and imitating the howler monkey call to try to rile them up and get them to come say hi. We heard them long before we saw them. Their howl is really more like barking. Or as Sis put it, “It sounds like they’re gonna vomit on me.” They didn’t come too close, but we were able to spot them in the canopy.

After four nights in Placencia, we got on another tiny plane to head back to Belize City where we caught a ferry to Caye (pronounced Key) Caulker, a little island just off the coast. It reminded me a lot of Utila (one of the Bay Islands in Honduras) – very laid back beach vibe, backpacker friendly, more golf carts than cars, and a very small town. The only difference is that everything is sand! The roads were just compacted sand/dirt, no pavement anywhere. We stayed at Seaside Cabanas – a beautiful beach front hotel right near the dock. Again the accommodations were way more comfortable than I’m used to. Thanks Sis! We spent our first day hanging out by the pool and walking around town. We also checked out the various dive shops and booked a dive for the following day to Spanish Bay. It had been over a year since either of us had gone diving, but the next morning went off without a hitch. We saw moray eels, huge lobsters, a ton of sting rays (mostly eagle rays I think), and of course a lot of colorful coral and fish.

The diving was so fantastic that Sis decided to splurge on the trip the next day to the Blue Hole – Belize’s most famous dive site. The trip is more expensive than most because it’s further away from shore and there’s a marine park fee. I couldn’t justify spending a whole month’s living allowance in one morning so I stayed behind, but it definitely sounded like I missed out. She had a great time, got to see a lot of sharks, a sea turtle, and a bunch of other fun stuff. Instead, I spent the day working on my tan, taking a long walk around pretty much the entire island, and reading by the pool. Tough life.

For our last night in Belize (Saturday), we met up with some friends that we had made on the dive trip and a few of the locals that work at the dive shop. The locals had their own little motor boat so we decided to go out to the bay in-between Caye Caulker and neighboring Ambergris Caye to check out the bioluminescence. Very cool! Wherever you touch the water, it lights up!

From there we continued on to the town of San Pedro on Ambergris Caye. The island is a little bigger than Caye Caulker, which means that San Pedro has more people and more of a night life. We saw some live music at a bar/restaurant before heading over to the club for some reggaeton and techno. Lots of dancing later, we got back in the boat to head to Caye Caulker to get a few hours of sleep before catching the ferry to Belize City in the morning.

All in all a fantastic trip! Check out my pictures: unBELIZEable! (There are a lot more in Sis’s Facebook album too.)

Facts about Belize that you may not know:- It was formerly known as British Honduras, and the national language is English so I didn’t get to impress Sis with my Spanish.- On the coast, most people speak with a Caribbean (similar to Jamaican) accent, and most speak Creole as well.- Despite being surrounded by Spanish-speaking countries, most Belizeans on the coast don’t speak Spanish unless they’re originally from somewhere more inland, near the Mexican or Guatemalan border.- Typical food is similar to Honduras – rice, beans, and chicken. Also, the coast has a LOT of seafood, of course. We ate a lot of conch.- Their hot sauce is HOT.

We made a mural! And it was all done with plastic bottle caps!

Since working with the Local Cultural Board on the Traditional Food Festival, I’ve been asked by them to help out with a couple other small projects to promote cultural activities in town. One of these projects was a mural made completely out of bottle caps. The president of the board is a writer and university professor in Tegucigalpa so he has a lot of connections with the art/literature crowd in Honduras. That’s how we got together with Denis Berrios, an artist/muralist in Tegucigalpa that started a non-profit organization called Arte de Barrio. The organization is a group of volunteers that promotes youth development through art projects, especially using recycled materials.

When starting the group, Denis wanted to make the neighborhoods of Teguz more colorful with painted murals everywhere, but quickly realized that finding funding for all of the materials would be really difficult. So instead, he started making murals with bottle caps in a kind of mosaic design. The president of our Cultural Board recruited him to come to Cantarranas to start a mural here and teach a group of kids the process.

The Catholic Church agreed to put the mural on the side of their hall/meeting room that’s just to the right of the church and right on the central park. It’s a great location since a lot of people walk past it every day.

Before even getting started on the mural, we walked around town, collecting as many caps as we could find (just plastic ones since metal would rust). The Catholic community was told about it ahead of time so some of them had already been saving them up for us. There are also a handful of people in town that collect recycling to sell the bottles back, but the recycling companies don’t want the caps so they were able to donate a bunch too.

We started by chipping away the top layer of paint and cement on the wall since the wet cement used to stick the bottle caps on wouldn’t stick well to the paint. Next you trace out the design you want with a crayon. In our case, it’s the image of Jesus looking over the world with a dove flying off to the right. The politically correct American in me wasn’t so thrilled about the design choice, but since it’s on church property and 100% of the people in my town are Christian anyway, I guess it’s all good. Next we applied a layer of wet cement and stuck the bottle caps in it. The caps were all sorted ahead of time so that it was easier to pick out the colors we needed for the design. (Red Coca-Cola caps dominated the rest of the colors.) The background was just a jumble of all the rest. Once a block of bottle caps are all set, you smear the area with more cement to fill in the gaps, let it dry for a few minutes, and then wipe the tops clean so that the colors show through.

Words don't do it justice. Check out the pictures!

I was bound to get robbed eventually. I just assumed I was more likely to get mugged in Tegucigalpa than to have my bank accounts wiped by some unknown person :(

Just before Holy Week, someone got ahold of my Bank of America info and emptied out my checking account. Not only that, but they withdrew more than I had so the rest was put as a charge on my credit card thanks to overdraft protection. I'm sure this would've been super stressful under any condition, but I was extra devastated because I had plans to leave on vacation for El Salvador just three days later. I spent the rest of the day on the phone with a BOA rep trying to sort out the whole mess. Apparently the money had been withdrawn from an ATM in Lima, Peru, and there were several other attempted withdrawals throughout Latin America and Florida. Obviously I was not the one to blame for these transactions so the money was returned as a "loan" that is pending the full fraud investigation, and the bank fees were canceled. Money back, hooray! Except for the fact that my debit card was canceled, and I had no way of getting a new one or accessing the money before I went off to El Salvador. My wonderful parents saved the day, though, and were able to wire money to my Honduran account :)

But wait, the story isn't over yet. Just a few days after I came back from vacation, I noticed more strange charges, this time on my Honduran debit card. My account was nearly wiped out (except for about $40) before I realized what was going on, and got ahold of Banco Atlantida to block my card. That's right, more than half of the money my parents had wired me (what wasn't spent in El Sal) was up in smoke. The next day was spent in the Peace Corps Office with a pile of paperwork and plenty of red tape. I spoke to the IT guy, thinking that my computer had a virus that was sending my banking info to some hacker - two emptied bank accounts in a matter of a week and a half is way too much of a coincidence. A virus seemed unlikely to him at which point he asked if I'd ever used both debit cards in the same place, and there was the answer. It had to be an ATM in Antigua, Guatemala, the only place I've ever used both cards. After failing to withdraw money from BOA, I was forced to use my Banco Atlantida card. Another volunteer I was traveling with used the same ATM, and also had her BOA account wiped out just before mine was hit. It seems there was a hidden skimmer on the machine that recorded the card info and PIN.

I spoke with the PC person in charge of volunteers' bank accounts, gave her a copy of my bank statement, and she took on the task of filing the official claim and dealing directly with the bank. Banco Atlantida is MUCH slower at everything than BOA so it'll probably be awhile before I find out if I'm getting reimbursed for the money I lost. Fingers crossed. They haven't even told me if I'm getting a new bank account and/or debit card. In the meantime, I got a partial reimbursement from Peace Corps (in cash). Since my whole living and housing allowance for the month of May was stolen, they had to reimburse me so that I can get by for the next month.

I also filled out a Security Incident Report Form. The Safety and Security Director passed on the story (anonymously) to the rest of the PC Honduras community since Antigua is a popular vacation spot for volunteers and a lot were there for Holy Week. I hope no one else has to deal with this headache.

Semana Santa (Holy Week) is Spring Break for Central America. Half of the week is a national holiday in Honduras, and many Hondurans take off on vacations for the entire week. Since it's the hottest time of year, most people escape to the beach, or if they don't have time/money to make it there, at least a river or pool nearby. Last year I stayed in country and traveled up to the Utila, one of the Bay Islands, for some scuba diving. This year I decided to branch out a bit and get to know El Salvador despite the protests of many Hondurans that beaches here are much more beautiful.

I spent the first half of the week in and around the capital - San Salvador. It was a definite step up from Tegucigalpa. Since it's not built in a valley/mountainside, San Sal was nicely spread out, making it much less claustrophobic - wider streets and sidewalks - and it seemed cleaner too. The public transportation was easier to figure out since all of the busses had route numbers. The only thing I didn't like was switching over to US dollars, which is the currency they use in El Salvador. Fifty cents might not seem like much in the States, but in Honduras that's 10 lempiras! My natural tendency with coins is to spend it without thinking since it doesn't usually add up to much, but I had to keep checking myself and converting to lempiras to stay on budget. I also seemed to have forgotten what US coins are worth since I got to Honduras. I tried giving a cashier two quarters (which are the size/color of Honduran 50 cent coins) when I owed her a dollar. Oops.

I got into San Sal on Monday afternoon. After checking into the hostel and meeting up with another Peace Corps Volunteer, we headed downtown to walk around and check it out. Again, it was much more welcoming than downtown Teguz, with more parks, plazas, and open spaces. The next day we went to Suchitoto, a quaint colonial town about an hour and a half outside of the capital. We met another volunteer there and spent the day shopping, eating, and catching up on Peace Corps gossip. One of the volunteers I was with lives near the Honduras/El Salvador border and has a few friends in San Salvador. They dropped by our hostel in the evening and took us out to one of their favorite pupusa restaurants. Pupusas are one of El Salvador's most popular traditional dishes. It's like a stuffed tortilla - usually they have beans and cheese inside, but can also be filled with pork rinds, chicken, or loroco (an edible flower) among other things. In Honduras, pupusas are made with corn flour, which is also used in El Salvador, but their best pupusas are made with rice flower. Yummy!

On Wednesday, we visited the San Salvador Volcano. It was a much more laid back visit compared to the volcano hike I did in Guatemala. We drove up to Boquerón National Park, and it was only about 100 meters walk from the parking lot to the rim of volano's crater. We hung out there for an hour or two, visiting the different lookout points along the mouth of the crater. Too bad the view was a little hazy. For the more daring people that were willing to spend a little more money, they had the option to hike/repell down into the crater. I decided to skip over that part of the tour since I was in jeans and flip flops. After leaving the park, we headed to Chili's (that's right, the chain exists in Central America too) to meet up with the same El Salvadoran friends from the previous night to see the Madrid vs. Barcelona soccer game. Neka Allen (college roomie) arrived that evening (yay!), and the next morning we were all off to the beach!

Thursday morning we sat in traffic for awhile, but finally made it to El Tunco, a small surf town on the Bálsamo Coast just south of San Salvador. We dropped our stuff at our new hostel and went to get some lunch before heading to the beach. Unfortunately, by the time we finished eating, the tide had come in, and there was no more dry sand to hang out (read: work on my tan) on. We settled for hanging out at the hostel with a bunch of other volunteers and friends that had gotten there ahead of us. Altogether there were 15 Honduras Peace Corps Volunteers and assorted friends from the States in El Tunco for Easter Weekend.

On Friday and Saturday we made day trips to nearby beaches - Zunzal and El Zonte. They were a short bus ride away, and much less crowded than Tunco. They're both black sand beaches like Tunco. Unfortunately, it was cloudy most of the time we were there so it wasn't ideal beach weather. Also, I think there was a storm brewing; I went for a swim and was legitimately scared by how strong the waves were. I tried to get past the breaking point, but the current was too strong. Instead of a leisurely swim, I got an intense workout. After being smacked around by a few waves, I called it quits and headed back to shore.

Considering that Tunco is such a small town, the night life there was insane. There were so many people, especially residents of San Salvador since it's such an easy drive from the capital. Bars were packed, and every night there was a samba drum circle and bonfire on the beach. Humidity plus dancing plus crowdedness meant that we collapsed in bed every night nice and sweaty haha.

On Sunday, Neka headed back to the airport, and I headed back to San Salvador to catch a bus to Tegucigalpa :( I'm still working on getting out of vacation mode and back into work mode...

Pictures! Semana Santa 2011

On April 9th and 10th, my town held the 16th annual Festival de Alimentos Tradicionales (or "traditional food festival"). I really love this festival because they make a huge effort to focus on Honduran culture, which gets lost in most other town fairs and festivals. Leading up to the event, they have different fundraising activities so that they don't need a phone or beer company to sponsor it. This way they avoid having their logos on everything. Instead, the food vendors' stalls are made of wood or bamboo and decorated by the vendor with local materials like beans or palm fronds. All of the vendors that participate have to attend meetings for a couple of months leading up to the festival so that they are all on the same page about proper hygiene, how the festival is run, and what types of food are allowed and which are not (french fries aren't exactly "traditional"). And all of the entertainment groups are culturally focused as well - theater troupes, traditional dance groups, etc.

I helped out with it a bit last year, but tried to get more involved for this year's festival now that I had a better idea of what the festival was all about. I took on most of the computer oriented tasks - updating the festival website, posting pictures from previous years, creating menus and fliers and other promotional materials, etc. I also dubbed myself festival photographer since there aren't many pictures (and even fewer quality pictures) from previous years. A lot of the pictures that had been using on posters were ones of food that they pulled off the internet and not from the actual festival.

The festival is typically held on the last weekend of April, but it was pushed up this year because of Easter. I think attendance may have been down a little since a lot of people were saving money and preparing for vacation during Easter Week. But I still think the festival was a success. It started on Saturday afternoon with some performances by local musical and dance groups, and in the evening there was a masquerade party. Sunday was more focused on the food - a lot of people, especially from the Teguz area - turned up for lunch, but there was also a parade and several more performances in the central park. Check out the photos here: XVI Festival de Alimentos Tradicionales

Tomorrow and Friday I had planned a workshop for the high school teachers. I’ve been talking about this idea with my counterpart, the high school principal, since October, and we started planning it in early February. It seemed straight forward enough – we would do a two-day workshop for all of the 11th grade teachers on Project Citizen, a program that teaches the students about public policy and helps them become more active citizens.

Last year, I taught Project Citizen with one of the 11th grade teachers, but one of the big problems I had with her was scheduling. Every few weeks, the school changes modules so I regularly changed what day and time I showed up to co-teach the class with her. Because of strikes, we lost a lot of class time, and when classes resumed, the modules had changed again; the teacher I was working with no longer had class scheduled with the Project Citizen students so I was forced to attempt to teach it on my own during occasional recess periods. Needless to say, this made the kids resent me even more, and the project eventually bombed because of all of the scheduling difficulties.

This year, to avoid all of that mess, I wanted to hold the workshop so that all of the 11th grade teachers would be on the same page. That way, if they don’t finish the project before the end of a certain module, another teacher can pick up where they left off. I met with the principal, and we figured out which days would work best. I also called my Peace Corps supervisors so that they could come to present at the workshop along with a representative from an NGO that also works with Project Citizen. We planned to hold the workshop at the end of March, which is a little over a month after classes began for the year. Even though the Project Citizen curriculum should only take about three months to complete, I wanted to get the workshop done early so they could begin as soon as possible. Teacher strikes happen every year, but usually later in the school year. I was hoping to get everything rolling before strikes could interfere.

But alas, the strikes have already begun, and the workshop that was planned for tomorrow and Friday has now been indefinitely postponed. The teachers are striking because the government wants to change how the educational system is run. Right now it’s all managed at the national level, but they want to make it the responsibility of the municipal governments. As a Municipal Development Volunteer, I’m supposed to be supporting local government, but I can see why the teachers would be upset about this change. Local governments are typically very political party oriented. Whichever candidate wins the mayoral election, all of the other municipal employees are typically from the same party, regardless of whether or not they are actually qualified. In some municipalities, this means that if the party changes, so does every single staff member in the town hall. The teachers are afraid that if the educational system becomes “municipalized”, they’ll be looking for a new job every four years (after every election). Congress will be voting on the decentralization law in April. Also, apparently some of them haven’t been paid since last year.

Teachers, students, and Zelayistas (the people that are against the current government because of the coup that happened against Mel Zelaya in June 2009, also known as “The Resistance”) have all been gathering in Tegucigalpa and other major cities. They’ve set up road blocks on several main highways and roads throughout the country. People participating in protests and marches are often seen carrying sticks, shovels, rocks, etc. They’ve damaged lots of cars and several fast food restaurants - the fast food chains are usually targeted because they are all from the U.S., and the U.S. government backs the current Honduran government. Yesterday it got even more violent when people started throwing Molotov cocktails. Riot police have intervened on several occasions with tear gas. A team of people was selected to mediate talks with the heads of the teachers’ unions, but it doesn’t seem as if this situation is going to be resolved any time soon.

The Peace Corps Safety and Security Coordinator has been great about keeping us updated through text messages, and there are updates every day in the news. Here in Cantarranas, life continues as normal, with the exception that classes have been canceled until who knows when. Most of the teachers from the high school actually live in Teguz, so they’ve been protesting there rather than here. Needless to say, I haven’t been visiting Teguz lately.

To celebrate my birthday, I treated myself to a short trip to Guatemala. I had a great time, but really wish I had allotted more days for it. Traveling took a lot longer than anticipated, which cut into touristy stuff and sleep time, but we made the most of it.

I traveled with Meredith, another MuniD volunteer from my group, and Fredy, a Honduran friend from Tegucigalpa. We left for Guate early on Saturday morning, and made it to Guatemala City by the afternoon. I met up with Caley, a friend from high school, at a hotel in Guatemala City where she was staying for an International Reading Association conference, and we went out for coffee before I continued on to Antigua. I was only in the city for a couple hours, but it seemed a million times more welcoming than Teguz – probably thanks to the wider and cleaner streets. I think the crime statistics for the two cities are about the same though. Caley’s hotel was in Zona 10 aka Zona Viva, which is more of a ritzy neighborhood. It had a lot of cute cafes, bars and restaurants right around the corner from the hotel, and was much more pedestrian friendly than anywhere I’ve been in Teguz.

After the brief stop in the city, I continued on to Antigua, which is only about an hour away. It’s a very cute colonial city, which was the original capital of Guatemala until it was largely destroyed by an earthquake in 1773. The streets in the center of the city are all cobblestone, and a lot of the buildings and monuments that were destroyed by the earthquake have been preserved as ruins. I saw very few Guatemalans while I was there; the place was crawling with tourists and expats. We went out for dinner and then to a reggae concert before heading to bed relatively early to prepare for another early travel day.

On Sunday, we got up early to head to the market in Chichicastenango, which is about two and a half hours west of Antigua. It reminded me a lot of the market I went to in Pisac, Peru (outside of Cuzco). Their main market days are Thursdays and Sundays when the central plaza and surrounding streets fill with stalls and vendors selling everything you can imagine, geared towards both tourists and locals – souvenirs, jewelry, clothing, produce, household goods, flowers, meat, grains, and lots and lots of textiles. Guatemalans are well known for their brightly colored textiles and traditional Mayan clothing. I was tempted to buy a beautiful blanket for my bed, but didn’t want to deal with transporting it so I settled for a scarf – much more travel friendly. While at the market, I managed to see Caley again, but only for a few minutes since she was with her fellow conference people on a busy tour with a tight schedule.

After about four hours of shopping, we headed to the beautifully serene Lake Atitlan, only an hour from the market. It’s surrounded by three volcanoes, which keep the water at a relatively warm 72 degrees despite the fact that it’s up in the highlands. We arrived at the town of Panajachel, but other volunteers had previously recommended that I stay at the Iguana Perdida in the neighboring town of Santa Cruz La Laguna. It’s not accessible by land so we hopped in a motor boat that took us right to their dock. The hotel had a very relaxing atmosphere, which made for a lazy afternoon of resting our feet after being on the move all morning. That evening they served a family style dinner, and we got to know a few other backpackers before passing out from exhaustion.

The next day was another early travel day (have you seen the trend yet – I was trying to cram a LOT of activities into very little time). Meredith and I headed back to Antigua early so that we would be able to do a volcano hike in the afternoon. Fredy decided to sleep in and meet us after the hike so it was a ladies only day. We decided to splurge on a tourist shuttle instead of the crazy chicken busses (used school busses from the States). A word about Guatemalan public transportation – I didn’t think it was possible, but they manage to cram their busses even more full than those in Honduras. In Hondu, the truly crowded busses have two people in each seat (could be more if there are small children involved) and people standing in the aisle between the seats, which makes for at least six in each row. In Guate, they put three people in each seat (again it could be more if there are kids). The two people on the aisle only get half of their butt on the seat if they’re lucky so they usually end up leaning against each other to hold each other up. And then if the bus is super full, one person stands in the aisle (it’s up to you to figure out how to make this work – I had my butt in some guy’s face for at least half an hour until someone got off and gave me their seat), which makes for at least seven people in each row. Congrats Guatemala, you really know how to make a bus ride as uncomfortable as possible. So that’s why Meredith and I spent a few extra Quetzales on a shuttle bus. But wait, there’s more – the shuttle busses are typically used by older tourists so most of the fellow travelers were over 50. The bus, which is really more of a van, has seats for fourteen people plus the driver. We were loaded up with about eight or nine people and the other passengers were already up in arms about how crowded it was and how ridiculous it is for them to pay more money for a shuttle if there are going to be more than five or six people. And then the bus driver made one last stop to pick up a French family of six (two parents, two grown children and two small kids). Needless to say, the other passengers had a LOT to say about that – complaining about how unsafe it is and how they want their money back and how there’s no way the Frenchies should all be allowed on. But the bus driver just ignored them (pretty easy to do since he didn’t speak English and they didn’t speak Spanish) and loaded on the rest. I just kept imagining how they would react to a chicken bus. Yikes.

A few hours later, Meredith and I were back in Antigua. We grabbed some lunch and got ready for our hike to the Pacaya Volcano. In my mind, I thought I would literally be hiking up the volcano and end up at the rim of the cone looking down into a pit of lava. Unfortunately, that’s not exactly how it went, but it was still worth the trip. We hiked with twelve other tourists (mostly Americans) through Pacaya National Park for about three or four hours in total. It was a steep climb up one of the mountains facing the volcano. The volcano erupted last May so there was a lot of fresh ash and volcanic rock, but the lava pools that were there before had all dried up so we didn’t get to poke lava with a stick like my guide book said haha. However, there were a lot of heat pockets – kind of like walking over a heating vent in the floor. A couple were even hot enough to roast some marshmallows. Yum :) We stayed past sunset, but it was a bit hazy (not sure if that was just the day’s weather or if it’s always like that around the volcano) so the sunset pictures didn’t turn out so well. After hiking back down in the dark, we drove back to Antigua, ate a late dinner and crashed. I was hoping to celebrate my birthday at midnight on Monday, but we didn’t have the energy and everything was closed anyway.

Tuesday, my actual birthday, was just a travel day. Back to Honduras. I would’ve liked to have stayed longer, but Meredith and Fredy had to get back, and a twelve hour bus/car ride is even worse alone. Now I have to get back to work, but I’m still recovering from vacation haha. Thanks to everyone who sent e-mails, texts, and Facebook messages. 25 is gonna be a good year :)

And check out the pictures! Celebrating My Quarter Century in Guatemala

Hooray for free surgery! For a few days last week and the week before, I was helping with a medical brigade in Tegucigalpa for people with clubfoot - a congenital condition in which the foot turns inward at the ankle. It was coordinated by Sandy, a former Peace Corps Volunteer who served in Honduras in the late '90s. She now returns to Honduras for up to five months every year to try to help kids in need of surgery. You can read more about her on her website: http://www.sandyinhonduras.org/ . She contacted the current Peace Corps Volunteers through the director of the PC Health project to let us know about the brigade for clubfoot. Everything was fully paid for and the surgical team was flown in from the U.S.; all the families had to do was show up.

I talked to the director of the health clinic in my town, but she wasn't aware of any cases. I hit a stalemate with that because I wasn't sure how to go about publicizing this great opportunity. Luckily the volunteer in Talanga (the next municipality over) had a stroke of genius and announced it on the town's radio station. Cantarranas doesn't have its own station, but we are close enough to get reception from Talanga so that definitely helped spread the word.

One mother approached me about her son Bryan who doesn't technically have clubfoot, but does have issues walking normally because of a problem in the spine and hips. Another family brought their daughter Suamy to see me because she has a slight clubfoot on the left. Through word of mouth I found out about another boy with clubfoot and went to visit his house. I explained to his mother why I was paying them a visit and showed her a picture of a clubfoot so that she would understand what I was talking about. She was a bit wary at first, but once she saw the picture she nearly cried and went to get her son Gustavo. Both of his feet were turned in so badly that he couldn't walk at all; he got around by either scooting on the floor or being carried by a family member. Sara told me about how it was much easier to handle when he was younger, both because he weighed less and because he was less aware of it. Now, at the age of four, it's more difficult to carry him everywhere and he's asking when he'll be able to walk and run around like all of the other kids.

All three children had been to see doctors before, but none of them had the money for anything more than a consultation. I went with the three children and six parents on Wednesday, January 12th to Hospital San Felipe in Tegucigalpa so they could be evaluated for the brigade. After the initial evaluation, there were follow-up consultations with the surgical team on Thursday and Friday. They decided that Bryan's condition was too delicate to operate on. If they did try surgery, they ran the risk of paralyzing him, and he'd be better off with some physical therapy since he only walks with a slight limp. For Suamy, they also voted against surgery and prescribed special shoes to help her walk more comfortably. For Gustavo, though, it was obvious that the operation was necessary. They got his bloodwork done, started him on some antibiotics, and signed him up for surgery on Monday. Thankfully, it all went off without a hitch. It was amazing how relaxed Gustavo was throughout the whole process. While other kids were kicking and screaming he was just chilling out. I talked to him after the surgery and asked him what happened. "Me operaron," he told me very calmly. "They operated on me." No big deal.

He's back at home with two full leg casts and is scheduled for a follow-up appointment at the end of the month. I went to visit a couple days ago to see how he was settling in and dealing with the casts. He said they didn't bother him or itch and didn't weigh that much either. The only thing he was a little upset about was that he didn't have pants or shoes that would fit over them.

I took a few pictures too if you're interested: Medical Brigade for Clubfoot

Last week I got back from a two-week vacation in the States. Two weeks of running water, hot showers, delicious food, great friends and family. I spent Christmas with my family in New Jersey and New Year’s in Los Angeles with friends and ruggers.

I had a bit of culture shock when I landed in Houston for my layover, much worse than when I visited in May. I was very overwhelmed by all of the signs in English and restaurants offering food that I had forgotten existed. I kept speaking Spanish without thinking, and the majority of the people I interacted with probably had no idea what I was saying. I found myself reverse translating from Spanish to English. My brain was a mess. But somehow I found my way through immigration and customs and continued on my way to Newark.

It was great being able to spend Christmas with the family. I enjoyed last year’s Christmas with friends in Honduras, but afterwards it was like Christmas had never happened. There were none of the usual traditions that mark the day. This time around it was back to everything that I know and love about Christmas – the Christmas Eve church service, presents under the tree, enough food for 100 obese people, and SNOW. I was not expecting snow, but NJ got dumped on the day after Christmas. Two feet of snow was definitely a shock to the system given that I’ve been avoiding cold weather ever since I left Ithaca. It was pretty to look at from inside the house, but made traveling very messy so I missed out on seeing some friends that were in town. It didn’t stop the family and me from making a day trip into NYC, though, to see Time Stands Still on Broadway. Thanks Mom and Dad!

On the 29th, I said goodbye to NJ and headed to LA for the second half of my trip. My awesome (former) teammates picked me up at the airport with a burger from In-N-Out (mmmm) and we headed straight to meet up with other teammates. Friends and food - that about sums up my trip. I spent my week there meeting up with friends and stuffing my face. Good times! And thanks to Bobby and Carly for cooking me dinners! We had to mix it up on New Year’s Eve, though, so we got dolled up and headed to Las Palmas, a club in Hollywood (props to Sis and Stephen P for hooking that up). It had been forever since I had gone out dancing in a dress and heels with my girlfriends. So much fun! On our way home, we asked the taxi to go through the fast food drive through so that we could continue the trend of friends and face stuffing. I think I gained about 50 pounds over the course of the trip.

I took a red eye back to Honduras on the 4th/5th, but before I went to the airport, I got to swing by rugby practice. I didn’t play with them since I’m way out of shape and had a head cold at the time, but I miss it so much! Wherever I live next, they have to have a women’s rugby team in the area. That’s a must. Tackling people is way more fun than going for a jog or exercising in my house.

The trip back to my house in Honduras was loooooooong. I flew into San Pedro Sula instead of Tegucigalpa to save money on the flight, but that meant a 6-hour bus ride after I landed. Ugh. Thankfully, a friend of mine offered me a ride from Tegucigalpa to Cantarranas so I didn’t have to spend the night in the city. When I finally got back to town, I was thoroughly exhausted and more than a little depressed about vacation being over, but to cheer me up and welcome me home, my Honduran friends had a surprise welcome back dinner waiting for me :) It was so nice being able to come home to a room full of smiling faces instead of an empty house. It was great visiting friends back in the States, but I’m blessed with an awesome group of amigos here in Honduras too.

And I’m back to wearing tank tops and flip flops! No complaints there!

This month has been a bit hectic, but I've finally got a few minutes to fill you in. I've been working with a group of ten students to help them apply for a scholarship to study in the States. The program is called "Becas Semilla" and is funded by USAID and Georgetown University. The scholarship winners go to a community college for two years and receive a technical certification or associate's degree. The application is a lot of paperwork, but I'm going to Teguz to hand in the second/final part of the application tomorrow, which will be a relief. If any of them are selected as finalists then I'll have to help prep them for interviews in January. Fingers crossed that at least one of them wins.

At the beginning of the month I went to an Artisan Fair at the US Embassy. Every December, the Embassy hosts the fair so that local artisans and vendors can sell their goods to the embassy workers for the holiday season. The PC business volunteers recruit other volunteers to bring local artisan groups from their communities. I didn't go with anyone from Cantarranas, but I filled in for the volunteer from Valle de Angeles, the neighboring municipality. The group's name is Empresa Recicle, and it's a group of women that make all of their goods from recycled items - jewelry, aprons, change purses, pencil holders, holiday wreaths, etc. They didn't sell all that much, but considering that we're so close to the capital and there were no travel expenses, it was definitely worth the trip. Other groups rode the bus for 10 hours to get to the event. Yikes. Also, the fair gave me a chance to do some of my own holiday shopping.

The municipal fair is back in Cantarranas again! It started on the 4th and ends this coming Sunday - two weeks long instead of just one like last year. Highlights so far: singing "Stand By Me" with another volunteer in the karaoke competition, seeing 10 year olds have a chugging contest with ponche de leche (a mix of hot milk and alcohol), being woken up every day of the first week by firecrackers and a marching band parading around at 5am, and lots and lots of dancing. Coming up this weekend: Ranchera music competition, the crowning of the Ugly King of the fair, rodeo, fireworks show, Kazzabe concert (popular Afro-Latino group from the north coast), and (of course) more dancing. Some volunteers came to visit last weekend and more are on their way for this weekend's festivites. Should be a good time :)

Also, since my Christmas cookies were a hit last year, I've been using my spare time and money to make fresh batches for this year. My list of friends in town has definitely grown over the past year, so I hope I made enough to go around. I'll find out this weekend.

After the fair ends this weekend, my coworkers at the town hall are having their Christmas dinner party on Monday. Then I fly to New Jersey on Wednesday. Yay!

This past Thanksgiving was amazingly delicious. I need to spend the next month working off the obesity so I can gain it all back over Christmas. I went to San Marcos de Colon, in the southern part of Honduras, where I met up with 19 other volunteers. Michelle, the host for the event, and two other volunteers in her area made up the menu and did most of the grocery shopping. I picked up a few hard-to-find ingredients in Teguz, but other than that, I can't say that I helped much with the meal prep.

The appetizers: hummus, spinach and artichoke dip, and cranberry baked brie with bagel chips, carrots sticks and peppers for dipping. Main course: champagne basted turkey, garlic mashed potatoes, sweet corn casserole, stuffing, roasted green beans, cranberry sauce, salad with walnuts and craisins, rolls, and gravy. Dessert: pumpkin pies (of course), apple crisp, cheesecake, and apple cheesecake. So much deliciousness!

Props to Tiffany, our head chef, for organizing everything. I have no idea how she pulled it off, but next to being with family, it was the best Turkey Day I could've asked for.

Two years is a long time. A lot can happen. There were 51 people in the group that I started Peace Corps training with. By the time we made it to the Swearing-In Ceremony, we were down to 48. Since then, we’ve lost 12 more, bringing my training class to 36 volunteers.

Everyone has their reasons. Some get here and decide that Peace Corps life is not for them. Others have family problems back home to deal with, medical issues that can’t be taken care of in Honduras, or security problems that make it unsafe to stay in their site. Or they may have trouble with work, like community counterparts that don’t put in any effort. And then there are those unfortunate few that get caught breaking one of the many PC rules, and get sent home. We recently had a new Country Director take over, but the last one was notorious for her lack of mercy when it came to rule-breaking and discipline.

The most recent volunteer to leave from my training group was in a site just a half hour away from me, and we were also in the same project (Municipal Development). Needless to say, we spent a lot of time together, and I’m really bummed to see him go. He was my closest volunteer friend (not just talking physical distance) and kind of like a sitemate. He had recurring medical problems since he arrived in country. After being sick on and off for a year, he finally got tired of it, and the PC doctors got tired of taking care of him so they mutually agreed that a medical separation would be best (also known as getting “med sepped”). Hopefully the bacteria and parasites will stop pestering him back in the US.

On the upside, I inherited his couch and refrigerator.

I recently attended my regional safety and security meeting with all of the other volunteers from the department of Francisco Morazán. There’s nothing like a meeting with Juan Carlos, Peace Corps Safety and Security Coordinator, to make you fear for your life.

The meetings are held annually to go over the Emergency Action Plan and review crime statistics and other safety related issues. We mostly go over incidents that have happened to volunteers, but Juan Carlos likes to throw in some other scary stats like the fact that there are 16 homicides every day in Honduras. It has one of the world’s highest (if not THE highest) per capita murder rates. Congrats, Honduras. Detroit ain't got nothin on us.

Luckily, I have yet to be a victim of a robbery or assault. My site is very safe, but since I visit Tegucigalpa quite a bit, I figure it’s only a matter of time. It’s less scary if you expect it, right? Or at least that’s what I’m hoping. And it’s not just the gringos that are being targeted. I could ask any Honduran friend and they would have at least one story of a time they got mugged in Teguz.

While I’m not quite as paranoid as Juan Carlos, I do heed most of his advice. If I’m in Teguz, I travel with as little money as possible. If I’m traveling with more than $20 or need to bring a credit card, it gets hidden in my bra. I try to avoid carrying anything valuable with me other than my cell phone – no computer, no camera, etc. – and if I have to make an exception, it gets buried deep in my bag and/or wrapped up in clothes. While on the bus, my bag always stays on my lap or in between my feet. If there’s no room and I have to put it up on the rack, I make sure I stay awake for the whole trip; otherwise someone is likely to pick it up and walk off with it while I’m dozing.

Once in Teguz, if I’m carrying anything valuable, I usually take a taxi to get wherever I need to go. Otherwise I’ll walk, only as long as I know the neighborhood. It’s only about a mile from my bus stop to the Peace Corps office, and it’s an area that I know well so I’m comfortable going on foot. At night, though, several volunteers have been assaulted near the PC office. It gets pretty sketchy after dark and is known to have a lot of tranny prostitutes hanging around.

Teguz can be pretty dangerous, but San Pedro Sula is even worse. There’s a lot more gang activity there, which leads to a lot more assaults on public transportation. In Teguz, all of the bus companies and taxi drivers pay a “war tax” or “impuesto de guerra” so that the gangs will leave their vehicles alone. If they don’t pay, it’s understood that their busses/taxis and all passengers will be held up at gun point. In San Pedro there’s a war tax as well, but I guess the gangs there don’t respect it as much as those in Teguz because whether or not you pay doesn’t seem to make a difference. I don’t usually travel through San Pedro, but if I need to, it’s always in a direct bus that doesn’t stop in all of the suburbs and slums along the way where most of the gangs reside.

Despite the ridiculously high crime rates in this country, I usually feel safe, or at least safe-ish. After so many safety and security meetings during training, I’ve come to accept it. I’ll take precautions, but I’m not going to freak out every time I step foot into the city. Gotta stay positive.

I have a couple projects in the planning process, but nothing solid yet. In the meantime, I’ve been taking advantage of the social scene. That’s right, Honduras has a social scene. Not quite up to par with NY or LA, but when you live in a quiet town of 5,500 people, it doesn’t take much of a party to make it seem like the blowout of the year.

Halloween isn’t a very big holiday in Honduras. Unless you’re a Peace Corps Volunteer. Every year, PCVs from all over Honduras and Central America get together in Copan Ruins (town just outside of the Mayan ruins in Western Honduras) for a big Halloween party, complete with a costume contest, themed drinks, and fake spider web decorations.

Outside of Copan Ruins, Hondurans have mixed feelings about Halloween. There are some bars and clubs that have adopted the U.S.-style tradition and throw costume parties. But on the other hand, there are a lot of people that consider it to be a kind of devil worship. While talking with someone from my town that I didn’t know that well, I made the mistake of mentioning that I was heading to a Halloween party and was subjected to a half hour harangue about the evils of dressing up to please the devil and how God would not approve of my behavior. He told me he hoped I would change my ways and that he would pray for my soul. Yikes.

Despite his disapproval, I got my costume together and drove out to Copan with two other PCVs and a Honduran friend. I went as Lara Croft, originally a video game character, made famous by the movies starring Angelina Jolie. (Mom, if you still have no idea who I’m talking about, Google it.) I didn’t actually raid any tombs, but I thought the costume was appropriate given the party location. I borrowed a black tank top from a friend and some black combat boots from a fireman. I bought fake hair in Teguz to make the long French braid, and I got some very real looking pellet guns there too. I found the belt at a second hand clothes store in town and fashioned the gun holsters out of cardboard and black electric tape. All in all, I think it turned out pretty well. Pictures are up on Facebook, but I’m not going to post the public link since I’m not sure which volunteers actually had permission to be there. I’m not trying to get anyone sent home.

I was really impressed with some of the costumes that people showed up in, especially given the limited resources here for putting one together. I know quite a few people bought fabric and then went to the local seamstress to have them sew something. The winners of the costume contest were the group of girls dressed up in various Lady Gaga outfits and the group of guys dressed up as the four Honduran beers – I have no idea how they constructed the beer bottles, but it looked like they went to some piñata maker for them. Another friend dressed up as Dora the Explorer, which was a big hit with the local kids.

A couple days after I got back, Alejandro Sanz was playing a concert in Tegucigalpa. He’s not very big in the English speaking world, but you may have heard one of his recent singles with Alicia Keys, “Looking for a Paradise.” I wasn’t planning on going since I spent all of my money in Copan, but a friend had an extra ticket so I got talked into it. I only know a handful of his songs, but it was still a fun experience since my friends are huge fans. The concert was held in an outdoor stadium, and there were an insane amount of people there, especially given that it was a Wednesday night. I knew we were going to be far from the stage, but I assumed that I would still be able to see Sanz on the screen like at concerts in the States. But from where we were standing, even the screens looked tiny and super far away. Oh well, we still made the most of it. Does partying with people from my town still count as community integration even if we’re not technically in Cantarranas?

I almost never set an alarm. There’s rarely any reason to wake up earlier than my body wants me to. Plus, there’s plenty of morning noise in my barrio to keep me from sleeping in too late. I usually roll out of bed around 7:00 to the sound of my neighbor’s rooster (the one that starts crowing around 4:00am and doesn’t take a rest until 8) or ranchera music blaring down the street. Sometimes it’s a door-to-door vendor that wakes me – the woman selling baleadas or the farmer with his wheelbarrow of cabbage, onions, and green peppers – as they walk down the street announcing their wares every few paces.

Although I’ve never been one to rush in the mornings, my morning routine is still much more leisurely here than it ever was in the States. I take my time eating my cereal while reading my book (at the moment The Stranger by Albert Camus). After a chapter or two, I bring my empty bowl to kitchen. If there’s running water, I’ll take advantage and clean it right then, but more often than not, the water has already been shut off for the morning and won’t be back on again until midday or evening or maybe not until the next day. Who knows? I could clean it with water from the big bucket under the sink that I have for occasions such as these, but nah. It can wait until later. I finish getting ready – putting on clothes appropriate for going to work at the town hall, which usually consists of jeans and a shirt. If there’s a reason to dress more formally, I switch out the regular shirt for one with a collar (oooh fancy!). Only on very rare (or very hot) occasions do I wear a skirt or dress. It’s easier to avoid catcalls in jeans. Swipe on a little mascara, slide on some sandals, grab my laptop and my Nalgene, and I’m out the door. Usually around 8:30 or 9 – depends how long my book keeps me at breakfast.

My walk to the town hall is less than three blocks. Although I haven’t lived in this house long, I know all of the neighbors and faces along the way since my host family lives just two doors away from me. Several people are usually out running errands, cleaning their front stoops and sidewalks, or just chatting with other neighbors or vendors passing by. I wish them a good morning and continue on. The office isn’t very far, but it takes me longer to get there than I ever thought possible before coming to Honduras. I’ve learned to walk as Hondurans do, which is really more like sauntering or meandering. In the capital, I walk with a purpose so that I’m less of a target for anyone thinking of stealing a cell phone or some cash, but here in Cantarranas, there’s really no need. Walking quickly just makes you sweat more. What’s the hurry? Even when Hondurans know they’re late for something, they rarely rush. They don’t need to. Meetings never start at the appointed time, busses usually leave at least 15 minutes behind schedule, and no one stresses out if you’re the one holding things up. So I saunter my way down the cobblestone road, past the lazy dogs sleeping in the middle of the street, and around the corner to the town hall.

The town hall is one of the few two story buildings in Cantarranas. The majority of the offices are on the second floor, but mine is on the first. I share a room with the director (and sole employee) of the Women’s Municipal Office. The adjoining room is home to the Cantarranas Foundation (an NGO that is run by three guys), the Environmental Unit (one very large employee), and the Project Supervisor, who is almost never around since he spends most of his time in the field directing whatever projects the municipality has underway. The rest of the first floor is taken up mainly by the Salón Municipal, which is a big open area that they use for everything from town meetings to dances.

First order of business is typically checking my e-mail… and Facebook. I’m one of the lucky few volunteers that has free access to internet, although it’s not always the most reliable connection. The modem was installed on the second floor a couple of years ago, but when I arrived they drilled a hole through my ceiling and dropped a cable down for me. But a few months ago, the Cantarranas Foundation was created and moved in next to me so now we all share one cable. After putzing around on the internet for awhile, I pass the cable off to one of the Foundation guys and head upstairs to grab a cup of coffee and maybe chat with the second floor ladies. Except for the mayor, all of the employees on the second floor are women, and there’s usually some gossip being discussed amongst them. It’s not a very productive work environment, but it’s at least entertaining. I’ve mentioned in other posts that work is rather slow lately, but in the past, I usually used the mid-morning time to be a bit more productive – writing lesson plans, researching/writing grants, planning exercise classes, meeting with teachers, etc.

Noon to 1:00 is the lunch hour at the office. The men head home to their families where their wives or mothers have food waiting for them. The women order food from a restaurant nearby or bring something with them from home that they cooked before leaving that morning. I head home to cook something for myself, unless laziness overtakes me, in which case I order from the restaurant along with the other ladies. Cooking at my house is not usually a very complex affair. My kitchen appliances consist of a mini-fridge, a two-burner hot plate, and a toaster oven. But even when I had a decked out kitchen, I was never much for experimental or gourmet cooking. Meals here usually have some combo of the following ingredients: rice, potatoes, pasta, beans, eggs, cheese, and whatever fruits/vegetables I can find at the local market. I don’t buy or cook meat for myself since I don’t have much room to store it in my cube of a fridge, and the butcher shop is a bit sketchy looking. I’d rather stick to beans, eggs, and dairy for protein.

I finish up lunch around 1 or shortly thereafter. I should head back to the office, but unless I have a class to teach or a meeting, there’s no reason to hurry back. Instead, I’ve re-adopted the Spanish habit of naps after lunch. I love siestas. I return to the town hall or the high school around 2:00 or 2:30 for more work (whatever that may be), procrastinating on the internet, or just shooting the breeze with coworkers. 5:00 is quitting time so I pack up my things and saunter on home again. I’ve been trying to get into more of a regular workout schedule again so I use the time before dinner to go for a jog or practice some yoga in my living room. Showering afterwards varies depending on whether or not the water is on. If there is running water then I take a cold shower that shoots out of a tube – no shower head. If there’s no running water then I take a cold bucket bath – I keep a small barrel of water in the shower stall and use a smaller pail to scoop water out. Sometimes during the colder months (Nov-Jan), I prefer to heat up some water to bathe with, but usually it’s too much of a hassle to bother.

Once I’m clean, I prepare something for dinner. Since lunch is the big meal here, dinner is usually light – some cut up vegetables or fruit or a scrambled egg. If I’m staying in for the evening, I read my book or watch a movie on my laptop. Otherwise I head out around 7:30. There isn’t much to do in Cantarranas so going out usually consists of visiting my host family or chatting in the park with friends. Sometimes I’ll have a few people over for a movie night or we’ll all cook dinner together at someone’s house, but generally we just hang out in the park. At 9:30 or 10, I call it a night and walk home. There are definitely areas of town where you shouldn’t walk after 8pm, but I live close to the park on a well lit street in a safe neighborhood so there’s nothing to worry about.

I like to read a little bit before going to sleep, and then bedtime is generally around 10:30. Woah, what a crazy life I lead.

I’ve been slacking again on updates. Sorry.

I’m officially out of work. I met with the high school principal and a couple of teachers yesterday afternoon, and we decided to cancel my Project Citizen (civic education) class. After the strikes and schedule changes, I tried to restart the program. Of course, after a two-month hiatus, the students had wiped any memory of Project Citizen from their brains, and were set on not cooperating at all to get the project back on track. Despite the fact that the teacher I was working with was counting the project as part of their grade, they still did little to no homework. Since the project involves a lot of research outside of the classroom, it was impossible to move forward with it. Also, after the schedule changes, the teacher that I had been working with was no longer able to co-teach the class with me. I am awful at classroom management and I don’t think the students take me seriously so teaching by myself just made matters worse. In addition to all of these problems, the school year in Honduras ends mid-November. At the rate we were going, there was no way to finish the project (and do it well) before the end of the year. I’m seriously relieved that it’s over. It made me want to pull out my hair.

During the meeting, we discussed the various problems that we had with the program and how to improve it for next year. Yes, despite the epic failure, I am open to giving it another shot during the next school year. We are going to start the project right off the bat instead of waiting until later in the year since, as one teacher said, “We usually go on strike in the middle of the year.” No big deal, happens all the time. They’re already preparing for strikes without knowing what they might possibly go on strike for. Only in Honduras. We’re also going to incorporate the project into the curriculum of another class so that it can be tied in more with the material the students would normally learn. Hopefully that way they’re more motivated to do the project well instead of brushing it off as some gringo initiative that doesn’t really matter. So at least the failed project this year gave us some insight for next year. I guess it wasn’t a complete loss.

The Cultural Festival went well although it wasn’t that different from the normal annual town festival that they hold every December. I helped with some of the planning ahead of time, but I wasn’t able to be there for the majority of it since I was attending a health workshop that week. The workshop covered family health with topics like nutrition, hygiene, pneumonia, etc. I went with two health volunteers from my town so I’m hoping to use that training to start some projects with them soon.

In other recent news, I went to Teguz for my annual medical checkup and got a clean bill of health. No parasites, stomach bacteria, cavities, or any other kind of malady. Hooray!

I’ll be heading to Copan Ruins in a little over a week for the Peace Corps Halloween celebration. Every year, the majority of PCVs from all over the country get together in Copan to celebrate Halloween. I’m still costumeless though, so if you have any good (and inexpensive) costume ideas, let me know!

P.S. Just a little over 2 months before I’m back in the States for Christmas and New Year’s!

It's been awhile since I've posted anything, so I'm just checking in to give a quick update.

The most recent group of trainees finished up their field-based training and left Cantarranas. They had their swearing-in ceremony with the same amount of people that arrived at the beginning of training. Impressive considering my training group lost four before we became official volunteers. But I suppose it's a lot easier to keep numbers up when there's no coup stressing everyone out. They had the ceremony on Friday at the US Embassy in Tegucigalpa, and they all traveled to their sites the next day.

A new group of volunteers means that I'm almost at the halfway point. October 1st is the official 1-year anniversary of my arrival as a volunteer in Cantarranas. I go through phases of antsy-ness. I haven't lived in one place for this long since I left Freehold for college over 6 years ago. While I spent four years in Ithaca, I didn't live in the same dorm/house/apartment for more than two semesters. College was a process of constantly moving back and forth from NJ to Ithaca and back again. Not to mention study abroad. It's nice being part of a community, but I definitely suffer from wanderlust from time to time. I've also heard from other PCVs and advisors that the one-year mark usually sees a spike in dropouts. I guess people reach halfway and start thinking "Well, that wasn't so bad. But do I really want to do this for a whole other year?" I must admit, those thoughts have snuck into my mind, and service thus far has definitely had its ups and downs, but I'm still committed to finishing the whole two years. While I'm not overly thrilled by the work I'm doing right now, the people in my town definitely make it worth it. I've made some great friends and met a lot of amazing people so while I'm still searching for that project that I can pour my heart and soul into, my amigos keep me going.

"What is it exactly that you're working on?" you might ask. I've had a lot of small projects come and go, but my main efforts right now (since I'm done helping out with Peace Corps training) are working with Project Citizen (civic education program) and the Cantarranas Foundation. Unfortunately, Project Citizen has taken the back burner lately. The teachers went on strike nationwide for about three weeks, and since they got back to teaching, they've been rushing to finish their curriculum before the end of the school year in November. They're even having class on holidays and Saturdays. I usually teach Project Citizen during another teacher's class time, but now I'm not sure if that's going to be possible. I'm still working out scheduling with her, and I'm really hoping that all of my work with her class so far doesn't just get flushed down the drain.

The Cantarranas Foundation, on the other hand, is a little more reliable and easier to work with, but they're so new that there's still not much work to be done. They're an NGO that's focused on sustainable local development and decentralization of government. The organization came together this past spring, and they're still working on getting official certification and funding. I've been helping them search for potential grants and helping write and/or translate project proposals. A lot of paperwork. They just recently decided to host a Cultural Festival - a one-week event with various cultural presentations, such as dances, singing, poetry reading, theater, etc. I think it's a great idea (in theory), and I'm trying to help them out as much as I can with the planning, but they just came up with this idea last week and have scheduled it for the last week in September and first weekend of October. It's all being thrown together a bit last minute so I'm worried that their visions of grandeur won't exactly pan out.

So as you can see, work is work. It keeps me busy, but I can't say much more for it than that. But in other, more exciting news - I'm heading home for the holidays! I'll be in Freehold for a week around Christmas and then in LA for a week to celebrate New Year's Eve there before heading back to Honduras. Can't wait!

The other day a fireman started fumigating my house. While I was still in it. Naked. Awkward.

The rate of dengue has gone up like crazy this year. I recently got an email from Peace Corps reporting that in 2009 there were 3,475 total cases versus 13,351 cases so far in 2010. However, most of them are in Tegucigalpa, and the rate amongst volunteers is the same so I'm not too worried. In order to combat the dengue, the firemen in my town have been going around and fumigating all of the houses and buildings, which leads me to my story. Funny to recount, but pretty embarrassing at the time...

The other day, I had put off going to work until the afternoon so that I could clean the house and do some laundry. Around mid-morning I had finished up so I decided to shower and maybe chill out with a book. I had just gotten clean when I heard someone knocking at my door, but I chose to ignore it since I wasn't dressed yet and figured they'd come back later. As it turns out, it was Alex, a fireman and friend of mine, who had just fumigated the other houses on my street and now it was my turn. Since I didn't answer the door, my landlord (and neighbor) assumed I was at work and let Alex in with his spare key.

The machine they use for fumigating is super loud - kind of like a leaf blower. So when I heard that noise in my hallway, I had no idea what was going on. Luckily, I had closed my bedroom door so Alex didn't see me as he walked past to start fumigating at the back of the house. Because of the noise, though, he also didn't hear me when I yelled at him to get out. I peaked my head out of the door and he saw me as he headed back down the hallway, apologized and left. I threw some clothes on and ran out of the house to the surprise of all of my neighbors who were sitting on their front stoops, waiting for the fumes to clear. Apparently they had all heard about the fumigating schedule by word of mouth, but no one had filled me in. Thanks a lot.

The fumigating was a three-day process so they covered every neighborhood and building three times. Alex made sure to text me the following two days before he headed over to my street.

I've got company. Last Sunday, a group of 19 Peace Corps trainees showed up in Cantarranas. They had already been in the country for about three weeks, but they've come to my town for Field Based Training (FBT - Peace Corps is all about acronyms). FBT is a seven week long program where the trainees receive language classes and technical sessions to prepare them for work as a Municipal Development volunteer. Other projects (Health, Youth Development, etc.) have their FBT in other sites.

Since I was the one that was lucky enough to get placed in Cantarranas after my FBT last year, I'm now the lucky volunteer that gets to help with training activities for the newbies. (There may be a hint of sarcasm in there...) Lately I feel like I'm a member of the Peace Corps staff since my boss has practically taken me on as his assistant for prepping the FBT activities. If only I got paid like him.

It's a little odd going to visit my old host family and seeing another gringa there, or washing my dishes and hearing English being spoken by trainees passing my house. But what's even weirder is the fact that for them I'm one of the "experienced" volunteers. I feel like I just finished training not too long ago, but I'm already coming up on my 1-year mark in site. The time here has definitely gone by quickly so far. But anyway, I love having the new guys here. Aside from getting to pretend like I know all there is to know about Peace Corps, it's a great change of pace and definitely breaks up the small town monotony. Plus, they're coming over for a small housewarming party at my new casa this weekend :)

Surprise! I moved again! And I'm super happy about my new casa :) It's much nicer than my old place and costs the same. The ceilings are all sealed off so I have fewer critters sneaking in, the windows have screens so I don't need a mosquito net, there's a real kitchen area (sink and counter!), and I don't have to walk outside to get to the bathroom anymore. It's a Honduran life of luxury. Also, it's nicely painted. I kind of feel like I'm living in a fruit salad house - lime/honeydew green, canteloupe, and pink grapefruit. The only downer I've found so far is that it has a metal roof instead of adobe tiles so it's warmer inside. But I'd rather take the heat with no bugs than vice versa. Pictures are up in the album "super tranquilo".

My friend Leo helped me find the new place. I was complaining to him about my old house because the landlord had promised me a bunch of repairs when I moved in that he never actually finished. Since I was in a rush to move and there were very few options, I moved into the old place before it was completely ready, but it was still livable. The landlord told me he would finish things up while I was living there. However, the house was never painted, the toilet never fixed, etc. I was fed up with dealing with him and nagging him and paying more for rent than the house was worth in it's unfinished state. Leo agreed that I should move and told me he'd ask around to see if anything new had opened up. A couple weeks later, he called me up to tell me that he found my new house! He even talked the landlord down in price so that I could afford it on the Peace Corps budget.

I spoke with the new landlord and asked when I could move in. He said the house was unoccupied so it was open whenever I was ready. I told my old landlord I was moving out, called up a coworker with a pickup truck, and moved into the new place about a week and half after first seeing it. Yay! I couldn't believe how easy the process was since it took me forever to find and move into the other house. So now I'm back downtown in Barrio Abajo (literally "lower neighborhood") and just a couple doors down from my old host family. It's nice being back in the neighborhood that I lived in for so long. I'm much closer with all of the neighbors, and since it's a main street, there's a lot more going on than in the quiet little alley where I was living before. Plus, I don't have to climb 93 stairs to get home every day. Bonus!

I’m finally back in Cantarranas after spending more than a week in Tegucigalpa for doctors’ appointments. After my nose was sewn up that Saturday, I had follow up appointments with the ear, nose and throat doctor and the neurosurgeon, I had a CT scan, and I saw the plastic surgeon again to have the stitches removed. Once the swelling went down, they confirmed that I won’t be needing any surgery, and now all that’s left is a little scab on the bridge of my nose.

While running around Teguz to all of my med appointments, I visited three different hospitals – two private and one public. The public hospitals are free, except for maybe a couple lempiras here and there for medications. Of course that means that the public hospitals are a million times more crowded. The reason I went to the public hospital in the first place is because I had a quick follow up with the plastic surgeon who works at various hospitals and that was the only day/place she could fit me in her schedule. After my visits to the squeaky clean, nicely air-conditioned, private hospitals, this was like a depressing scene out of some kind of epidemic movie. Doctors and nurses seemed to be outnumbered 100 to 1. There were long lines in front of some doors and others where people gave up on order and just formed a mob, waiting for it to be opened a crack, hoping it was their turn to be let in. Rather than going to a cafeteria for food, the food comes to you. There were women walking around selling snacks, gum, and drinks like vendors at sporting event. Very few doors were labeled and there was no general reception area so I wandered around for awhile asking random employees where I could find the specific waiting room that I was looking for. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long before the surgeon met me there. She took me into one of the examination rooms via the back door for employees only so that I wouldn’t have to fight through the mob of Hondurans wondering why the gringa gets to cut in line. The check-up was quick, and I was on my way, a million times more appreciative for Peace Corps healthcare.

To celebrate the end of my medical woes, I went to a friend’s site to watch Honduras play against Chile in the World Cup. It aired at 5:30am our time, but we still had a good showing of volunteers that came out to support their host country’s team. Unfortunately Honduras lost 0-1. With a lot of fans, though, the score doesn’t really seem to matter. It’s been almost 30 years since Honduras made it to the World Cup so everyone is just super excited to see the team get a chance to play. I’m sure some people back home are oblivious to the fact that the World Cup is even going on right now, which is why I love that I get to experience it in a country that lives and breathes soccer. On game days, it’s a rarity to see people not sporting the national team’s jersey or at least their colors (volunteers included). I can’t imagine what it’s like to be a Peace Corps Volunteer in South Africa right now (which, for those of you living under a rock, is the country hosting the World Cup).

All of those years playing rugby, and my award winning facial injury is thanks to the bottom of a pool. Yesterday I went to Agua Splash, a water park in Tegucigalpa, with Leo (a friend of mine) and some of his coworkers. We got there mid-morning and after lathering up with sunscreen and storing our belongings we went over to one of the “deeper” pools. Unfortunately it looked deeper than it actually was. There were no “No Diving” signs or anything, and my friend wanted to dive in at the same time. So we did. He was fine, but what I had intended to be a shallow dive actually turned into me face planting on the bottom of the pool. Such a dumb mistake.

I hit the bridge of my nose and busted up my lip. Thankfully, my teeth are all fine. It didn’t hurt too badly, but the bridge of my nose had split open and was bleeding profusely. Leo ran to get me a towel to stop the bleeding and then took me to the park’s infirmary. They don’t keep a nurse or doctor on staff, just a receptionist, so they sat me down in a chair and told me to wait for the doctor that was on his way. I got some ice for my lip and kept the towel on my nose, but I lost a lot of blood and fainted while waiting for the doctor to show up. I was only out for a few seconds, but when I came to I asked Leo to go get my phone so I could call the Peace Corps doctors since this seemed a little more serious than just a scrape.

The PC doctor told me to get to one of the hospitals in Tegucigalpa and she would meet me there. When the doctor that had been called in finally arrived, he took a look at me and wanted to stitch me up right there. I was still a little woozy from fainting and didn’t really understand what was going on. Thankfully Leo stepped in and told him that PC gave me specific orders to get to a hospital so we all got into the ambulance and headed out.

I have to say, PC really takes care of their volunteers whenever there is any medical issue. The PC doctor met me in the ER, and called in a nose specialist, a plastic surgeon, and a neurosurgeon (to make sure I didn’t have a concussion). All of the doctors they work with have to be approved by Peace Corps headquarters in Washington so I was definitely in good hands. I had x-rays taken, which showed a small fracture in my nose and occipital bone. I was told that they will both heal on their own so no funky face cast. The plastic surgeon stitched me up – a few internal stitches and three superficial.

Now they have me on pain killers and antibiotics, and I’m just waiting for the swelling to go down. My top lip is swollen out of control, and my nose is bit fatter too. There’s some bruising under my eyes, but it’s not too bad (yet). I have follow up appointments on Monday and Tuesday, and the stitches come out on Friday. In the meantime, I’m busy getting awkward stares and frightening small children.

This past Tuesday, I returned from an eleven-day trip back to the States. It had been just about eleven months since I started my Peace Corps journey in Miami, so a visit to NJ and NY felt long overdue.

The culture shock wasn’t as overwhelming for me as it is for some volunteers. Since Cantarranas is fairly close to the capital, I’m not as taken aback by crowded streets, fast food, and English speakers. However, living in Honduras (and the DR) for the past almost-year has definitely made me appreciate the small things so much more. Washing my hands with warm running water, driving a car, air conditioning – it surprised me how amazing all of these things now seem. Not to mention the joy of not getting a single mosquito bite during the entire trip! Also, I spent most of the trip resisting the instinct to throw the toilet paper in the trash. A well-functioning sewage system is a beautiful thing.

What I missed most, though, was the feeling of security. I know Manhattan isn’t the safest place, but it’s a million times better than Tegucigalpa. I’m not someone who is constantly paranoid about getting robbed, but I definitely keep my guard up, especially in the capital. Being a tall, white woman, I definitely stick out around here, and that makes me more of a target. It was nice being able to blend in and walk around without feeling like I had to watch my back.

I started the trip in New York City. Many thanks to Stephanie Inwald for picking me up at LaGuardia and keeping me company on the trip into Manhattan. I spent the weekend running around the island from one meal date to another. The only time I wasn’t eating or drinking something, I was on the subway to meet another friend and the next plate of food. Thanks to everyone who made an effort to see me. I know I had a crazy schedule, and I really appreciate the flexibility. I left the city with a heavier stomach and a lighter wallet, but I had a fantastic time.

Back in New Jersey, I was pampered by my parents for the week – shopping, pedicure, trip to the beach, movies, and restaurants. Being the poor child really has its perks. I would’ve felt guiltier about all this, but after the weekend in NY, I forced myself to stop thinking about how much I was spending in lempiras because it just gave me a headache and buyer’s remorse. (50 lempiras for a bottle of water?! Seriously?!) So money issues aside, I had a great time with my parents, my cat, and a few high school friends that are still living in the area.

From Freehold, I went up to Ithaca, NY for Sis’s graduation ceremony. She technically graduated in December, but skipped the winter ceremony so that she could walk with all of her friends this spring. We had beautiful weather the whole weekend – the kind that makes you love Ithaca and forget what a snowy mess it is the other nine months of the year. My sister signed us up for dorm housing for the weekend, and the lottery placed us in High Rise 5 on North Campus – a nice throwback to freshman year. Sis and her three roommates had planned a family wine tour for us so on Saturday, we piled into a party bus and visited a couple of wineries along Cayuga Lake. The graduation ceremony on Sunday was a bit long and hot, very similar to mine (which I can’t believe was already 2 years ago). After the general ceremony and the Hotel School reception, we went to a barbeque at the home of one of Sis’s friends and classmates. There were ten of us there, and all of us were Cornell alumni. Gotta love legacy! After the BBQ, Sis and I drove back to Freehold, got a good night’s sleep, and spent Memorial Day hanging out at the house. I packed as much as I could into my suitcases and was on my way early the next morning.

I was a bit nervous about my return, not only because I would have to adjust to Honduras living again, but also because of the weather. There was a tropical depression that started right after I left, which developed into Tropical Storm Agatha. The airport in Tegucigalpa was closed the Sunday before I was due to fly in, and the president declared a State of Emergency. Guatemala was hit the worst, but Honduras still had a lot of flooding, mudslides, deaths, and evacuations. All of the volunteers are safe, although one reported having a foot to a foot and a half of mud and water in his home. Cantarranas got a lot of rain, but there was no serious damage. My house was damp and a bit moldy when I returned, and a rat moved in while I was away, but thankfully that was it.

I arrived at my apartment exhausted and sweaty, but before I could relax and start to unpack my bags, I had to clean up the place and air it out. That made me even more exhausted and sweaty, of course, so my homecoming wasn’t the most joyous event. I threw myself a pity party and went to sleep early, wondering why I bothered coming back. But after getting some rest, I visited my host family and friends the next day, which more than brightened my spirits, and reminded me why I’m not quite ready to leave this place.

Click on the Photos tab to check out pictures from the trip :)

Just a quick update to say how excited I am to visit the States in three days! Yay! I'm SO looking forward to visiting with everyone, eating all of the foods I've been missing, having consistent running water again, and getting a break from mosquito bites :)

Since this is my first post for the month of May, I figured I should throw in a brief life update as well instead of just gushing about my upcoming vacation. I just submitted my first safety and security incident report. While unrealistic, I was really hoping that I would be one of those few volunteers that finishes their two years of service with out any incidents. Unfortunately, I'm not that lucky. Someone stole a pair of my underwear off my clothesline the other day. Sketchy, right? I washed all of my laundry on Saturday morning, and then spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon in the house cleaning and cooking (like any good Honduran woman haha). By late afternoon I went out back again to take down the now dry laundry, and realized that a pair of underwear was missing. I thought maybe it got tangled up in my sheets or that maybe I imagined washing them, but I scoured the whole house and they were nowhere to be found. Since the back/outdoor part of my house is all walled in, it has to have been my neighbors that took it. The clothesline is attached to a nail in the wall that separates our two houses, and since the wall is a bit low, all they would have to do is reach over and grab it. I was a little uncomfortable with the low wall when I moved in, but when I asked the landlord about putting up another row of bricks or barbed wire, he said he knew the neighbors and that it was perfectly safe. Apparently not. Instead it's perfectly creepy. I haven't asked them about it because it's not like it's something super expensive to replace, and I'd rather avoid the awkward confrontation.

In other (less scandalous) news, last month I attended a Peace Corps workshop for Project Citizen, which is a program designed to incorporate civic education into the high school system. I've been working with a Spanish teacher from one of the high schools to get this program up and running in her class. Essentially, the kids will be working in groups to address problems in their community. They need to research the problem, how it affects the local community, and find out if there are any laws that concern it. Then they propose a new policy or changes to the current laws in order to help solve the problem. The project is wrapped up with a report and presentation in front of the mayor and municipal staff. Also, there's a chance for the best group to be invited to a national competition in Tegucigalpa. Now that we have all of the prep work done, the teacher and I will be starting the project with the class tomorrow. I'll be working with a class of 30 students around the age of 16. Let's hope this works out better than my attempt at teaching English...

At the beginning of this month, I finally moved into my new apartment. There are still a few repairs left to be done, but the major stuff is all finished and it’s livable. I’m still working on getting all the necessary furniture, but in the meantime I was hoping you all could help me with the decoration. My walls are sad and empty and waiting to be filled with postcards from you! I’m stealing this idea from another volunteer because it’s a genius, cheap way to add some color and love to my new home. It doesn’t matter if you’re not going on vacation any time soon – just send me one from wherever you’re living. Doesn’t matter what the picture is either, as long as it’s nothing scandalous (these are getting hung up in my living room). For those of you that don’t have my address, you can find it on my Facebook page, or just ask me. It’s the same as during training, minus the “PCT” since I’m no longer a Peace Corps Trainee.

Other than the lack of decoration, I love my new place. It’s nothing fancy, but it works for me. There’s a front room that serves as both my living room and kitchen, and the second room is my bedroom. There’s also an outdoor area in back that is walled in. That’s where you can find the bathroom, clotheslines, and pila (big cement box of water that functions as my sink, washing machine, and dishwasher). It’s nice having my own space and finally being able to cook for myself. Buying meals from other people is a big drain on the limited allowance that I get every month.

This past weekend Cantarranas held its 15th annual festival of traditional Honduran food. Five other volunteers came to check it out so I got to host my first house guests and party. We had a great time, and the food was delicious. My mayor, who loves everything Peace Corps, even arranged to get us free meal vouchers. Thanks Paquito! It was ridiculously hot, but that didn’t stop people from coming in droves from Tegucigalpa and other nearby communities. The temperature was probably in the mid 90s. Add to that hundreds of people and lots of stoves cooking up Honduran specialties, and the heat became oppressive. None of the Hondurans seemed too fazed by it, though. I, on the other hand, was sweating so much that it looked like I had just come from the town pool. I held out through the parade at noon and then went back home to nap in front of the fan until the town cooled off a bit. Technically I was a member of the festival committee and should’ve been helping out all weekend, but since my website and promotional duties were finished, I left the rest of the logistics to the people that have been doing this for the past 15 years. They were still nice enough to give me a certificate for my efforts though :) If you click over to the photo page, there’s a link to my Facebook album of pictures from the festival, and pictures of my new apartment can be found in the album “super tranquilo”.

For Semana Santa (Holy Week), a couple of my Honduran friends suggested going to Utila, one of the Bay Islands. I had just been in Roatan a month earlier, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to head back for more scuba diving. Utila is completely different from Roatan. It's much more afforable because it caters mostly to backpackers rather than wealthier vacationers looking for all inclusive resorts. It's also a lot smaller. The inhabited part of the island (known as Utila Town) consists of two roads pretty much - one running along the bay and the other perpendicular, heading inland to the small airport. It's a really international community, and it's rare to hear people speaking Spanish. Some of the locals so, but a lot of them speak Garífuna or some kind of Creole English instead, which might as well be a foreign language because the thick accent is almost impossible to understand.

A friend of mine from Tegucigalpa had moved to Utila a few months ago to work at Alton's Dive Shop as an instructor and to do some kind of marine research. So my friends and I made our reservations with them and I signed up to do the Advanced Open Water Dive Course. The course involved a total of 7 dives including a wreck dive, deep dive (down to 115 ft), and a night dive. The wreck dive and deep dive were both very cool, but short since it's dangerous to stay that deep for long periods of time. The night dive was just so-so because the current was pretty strong. I didn't really get a chance to relax and enjoy it since I was fighting to keep from being swept into my dive group and the reef. Highlights from the other dives included a sting ray, a moray eel, and a pod of about 10 dolphins that swam past! The dolphins were so incredible to see, but they're super quick so it was a brief encounter. The course went really well, the instructor was great, and I'm in love with diving. I want to continue on with other dive courses, but for now I'm out of money (and out of vacation days). Too bad diving isn't a cheaper hobby.

Other than the diving, it was nice just to hang out with my Honduran friends and other PCVs, enjoying the sun and the food. Definitely a vacation well spent!

While I was in the Dominican Republic for training, one of the staff said that their national religion is baseball, and the national sport is chisme. The saying applies to Honduras too (if you swap out baseball for soccer, of course). Chisme means gossip, and in small towns where there’s not much else to do, it’s the most popular form of entertainment. If they’re not watching the latest soap opera on TV, most people in my town spend their free time visiting friends, sitting on their front stoop with neighbors, or meandering through the central park. Once the usual comments on the weather have been exchanged, conversation usually falls to local “news”. I use that term loosely because most chisme is comprised of rumors as opposed to actual facts.

All PCVs are made aware of and warned about this during training, but no matter what precautions you take, it’s impossible to avoid becoming a piece of town gossip. A friend of mine walked into my office the other day, and after the usual pleasantries, he told me that people think I’m creída, presumida, and fresa. Essentially saying I’m stuck up. (For those of you who remember some of your Spanish, you’re not losing your memory, fresa means strawberry in most Spanish speaking countries, but it has a double meaning here.) It’s not the first time that I had heard that from someone in my community, and obviously, I was a little put off by it. However, I realized that the few people who have told me this were all male.

Now I’m going to sidetrack a little bit. Honduran men, in general, are offensive. Machismo runs rampant in this country, lending itself to a lot of piropos. Piropo in the nicest sense of the word means “compliment”, but usually (and especially in the context of Honduras) it refers to catcalls. Catcalls are socially acceptable here and often encouraged amongst groups of men. As a rule, I try to steer clear of groups of guys in my town, and I avoid eye-contact with men I don’t know since that seems to encourage them. If they throw any piropos my way, I usually ignore them or at most give them an adios. Usually, the piropos are harmless (like telling me I’m so beautiful or asking me to take them to the States with me), but I’ve gotten a few that have made my skin crawl. It’s even more disturbing when they’re being shouted by boys that aren’t even 10 years old yet.

I get piropos every day, at any time of day, but especially if I go for a run. If it were cool enough to run in pants, I would, just to avoid the extra harassment that I get from wearing shorts. Because of all this, I don’t have a lot of interaction with men in my town unless they’re coworkers, friends that I’ve met through other women, or members of my host family. I’m sorry, but yelling “Hey sexy!” across the park isn’t going to persuade me to walk over and start a conversation with you, and making exaggerated kissing noises at my office window won’t encourage me to ask you out on a date.

My theory is that most men in my town feel snubbed and rejected, leading them to call me stuck up and egotistical. This idea was held up by my host mom and neighbor a while back when me and my lack of boyfriends came up in conversation. They were surprised and happy that I hadn’t gone around flirting and dating a bunch of guys in town like they had seen in the past. This led to chisme about past volunteers they’ve known, and there were more than a few implications that some of them were easy. So I guess I’m a little disappointed that some people think I’m creída, but I’d rather have the men calling me that than have the women calling me a slut.

I've made some changes and updates to my blog. I know this is irrelevant for many of you since you're reading my entries via e-mail or Google Buzz, but I'm pretty happy with the new look. Lately I've been helping the town's Festival Committee design a webpage in order to publicize the annual festival coming up next month. I've had a lot of fun (and some frustration) teaching myself some html and learning more about web design. Now that the festival page is just about done, I thought I'd revamp my own so here it is.

The header photo is a panoramic that I took on the outskirts of Cantarranas, overlooking some banana and corn fields. The Choluteca River can be seen off to the left. I also added a menu bar just below that for photos, my reading list, a map of Honduras, and my contact info.

I’m looking for musical instrument donations! I am currently working with the director of the art school here in Cantarranas (La Escuela Municipal de Arte de San Juan de Flores). It's great that the music program even exists because most communities in this country have very little interest in music education. However, the school still needs a lot of work. We are trying to expand their music program and their marching band, and in order to do that we need more instruments. We are particularly looking for instruments that would be suited for the marching band (drums, wind instruments, etc.), but anything you have to offer would be great! If you or anyone you know has an instrument that they would like to donate, or if you would like more information, please contact me at laura.tagatac@gmail.com. All shipping costs/logistics will be taken care of.

Also, check out the pictures below of the kids’ marching band and the director playing the clarinet with some of his students.

I just got back yesterday from a week of vacation on the island of Roatan with my parents, sister, and Neka. It was amazing to say the least. Roatan is one of the Bay Islands off the north coast of Honduras. We stayed at a resort in West Bay, which has one of the most beautiful beaches in the country - soft, white sand, lined with palm trees, and an incredible view of the Carribean sunset.

Aside from lounging in the sun, Sis, Neka, and I took a scuba diving course to get our Open Water Certification. It was three days of diving, learning about the equipment and lingo, underwater safety, and all that good stuff. It was so much fun! We saw a million different tropical fish, lobsters, crabs, shrimp, squid, a nurse shark, and (my favorite) a sea turtle :) I'm already planning my next trip so that I can get my advanced certification.

We had great weather almost the entire time we were there. However it was a littly cloudy and cool on Thursday so we left the beach to head inland for a canopy tour. We had two guides who strapped everyone into harnesses and brought us through a series of zip lines - 3km altogether. As we got more comfortable with it, the guides also threw in some tricks like spinning around or hanging upside down so that we weren't just sitting and coasting through the ride. It was a lot of fun and gave us some great views overlooking the forest and ocean. Supposedly there's a lot of interesting wildlife to see too, but I'm pretty sure we scared everything away by zipping through the trees and yelling haha. The only monkeys I saw were in a cage at the canopy tour office.

Other highlights were the delicious seafood, tropical cocktails, the night life in West End, and of course, just being able to spend time with the family. It had been almost eight months since the last time I had seen them, and we were long overdue for some face time. Such a great way to spend my birthweek!

Part of the Peace Corps policy is that volunteers have to live with a host family for at least the first two months of their service. This is to help with their language acquisition and community integration. I told myself that I would be moving out as soon as my first two months were up because my language level is already up to par, and thanks to having training in the same site, my community integration was well on its way too. However, I forgot to take into account the fact that housing might not be available when I wanted to move. I never thought that would be a possibility because Cantarranas is a fairly large community in comparison to many of the other volunteer sites, and the majority of PCVs live on their own. Well ever since November I've been looking for independent housing, and while I will be moving next month, it's only a temporary fix.

Over the past few months I've had a lot of real estate ups and downs. There are no realtors in Cantarranas and no ways to advertise places for rent. It's a small town, and everything is done by word of mouth. So I talked to everyone I knew, told them what I was looking for and my budget, and hoped that they would get back to me with good news. What I got instead were places that didn't meet Peace Corps regulations or were too expensive or too far away from the center for me to safely walk there after dark. I also found a bunch of homes that are far too large for one person. Canta has a lot of old Spanish colonial style houses with high ceilings, courtyards, and way too many rooms for me to handle (and pay for) by myself. Every time someone told me about another place that was up for rent, I would get my hopes up, but a chat with the landlord or a visit to the house always set me back at square one.

It was frustrating not being able to have my independence and my own space, but I get along really well with my host family so I didn't mind too much. Also, my host siblings had school vacation from November until about a week ago so they've mostly been in Tegucigalpa with extended family, which definitely makes the house a lot more peaceful. However, this past month I've really been pressured to find a new place. At the end of January, my host mom had another baby, which is adorable and cute and all that good stuff, but it also means that the house is a bit more crowded now. She went to Tegucigalpa to have the baby delivered in a hospital and was there with family until yesterday when she arrived back in Cantarranas with the newborn and her two older kids. My host great grandmother (Mamaita) is still in Teguz, but will be home next week.

They haven't asked me to leave or told me that I should move out, but the house only has two bedrooms - one for me and one for the five members of my host family. So obviously it would be more comfortable for everyone if I move it. About a month ago, I was finally told about an apartment that was being renovated and would be a good fit for me. I was stoked to say the least, especially since the landlord told me it would be ready for February and was within my budget. Well February rolled around, and in true Honduran fashion, the repairs were way behind schedule. I visited again the other day and found out that the apartment probably wouldn't be ready for March either. Boo.

So in the mean time, I was lucky to find a small bedroom/bathroom combo that's a couple blocks away from my host family. No kitchen means I'll still be going over to their place to cook and eat, but it's a step in the right direction. I'll be moving in there at the start of March (once I get back from vacation in Roatan with the family and Neka!). Hopefully the other apartment will be ready by April, but I'm not holding my breath. In the meantime I put in a plea to Peace Corps staff for a bigger housing budget so that I might be able to afford something else should this place fall through. Fingers crossed!

Honduras has a new president! Porfirio "Pepe" Lobo was sworn in this past Wednesday. As I mentioned before, he's with the right-wing National Party, which is a swap from the former Liberal Party president. Also, former president Zelaya (the one that was ousted and then snuck back into the country) finally left the Brazilian Embassy where he had been hiding out since September. Pepe offered him safe passage, and he's now in exile in the Dominican Republic.

The mayoral inaugurations took place on Monday, two days before the president. In my municipality it wasn't technically an inauguration since the same mayor is continuing for a second term. He still took the opportunity to have a big ceremony in the central park to give a speech about last term's successes and his plans for the upcoming four years. The place was packed, and a lot of politicians from Tegucigalpa showed up as well. Since the ceremony coincided with his birthday, there was a fancy dinner party to follow. I've never seen the people in my town so dressed up before. Who knew that so many Cantarranans had suits and ties and cocktail dresses?

As for work, things definitely picked up after the holidays (thank goodness). I've been working more with the Catastro office, which involves a lot of land and property registry. Sounds boring, I know, but it's actually pretty interesting. They've been getting a lot of support and funding from a NGO lately so they're a lot more active than they were before. The work involves visiting towns or farms and measuring the land and filling out a file for each person's property and dwelling(s). If it's a farm or large piece of land, coordinates are taken with a GPS unit, otherwise they use a measuring tape since the GPS isn't that exact. Once the file is filled out with the acreage and housing details (type of building materials used, whether or not they have access to water and electricity, general condition of the place, etc.), they use that information to calculate the worth of the person's property and how much they should pay in taxes. They also use the measurements and GPS coordinates to create digital maps of the municipality - this is where I'm more interested in getting involved. Most of my coworkers aren't as comfortable using computers, and the program they're using for the maps is only available in English. Hence, they need help.

Work with the women's office was going well for a couple weeks since they formed a new women's artisanry group. They had a workshop on how to make all sorts of handicrafts - sculpting, painting, and sewing. However, the director of the office is on maternity leave as of a week or two ago so I've fallen out of contact with them lately, and I'm not really sure what they've been up to.

I have a couple smaller projects that are in the works. There was a world map painting that was started in the library during training and never finished so I've revamped that project. I'm almost done getting all of the materials together so that we can turn the blue rectangle into something worthwhile. I'm also collaborating with the music school to try and get some instrument donations. More on that to come - I'll probably be soliciting you for instruments and/or help soon. And today I was approached by someone from the festival committee. During the last weekend of every April, Cantarranas holds a festival of typical Honduran food. Apparently it's a big deal, and people come from all over the place to check it out and eat all day. The committee is in charge of organizing it, planning activities, and publicizing it. They've asked me to help out, especially with creating a website for the event. Yay technology! That I can handle :)

P.S. Check out the right side bar - I've posted new pictures of the Harley Davidson rally that came through town (random), my day hike through El Chile (a biological reserve), and some from working with Catastro.

My dad told me the other day that he wanted to hear more about what the music scene is like in Honduras so here it is. If anyone else has any topic requests, just let me know :)

Most of the music I hear around my town is either ranchero or contemporary Christian. Ranchero music is like the country music equivalent en español. It typically features a band with a tuba, trumpet, trombone, clarinet, drums, and sometimes an accordion, and the singing style is very distinct. To me, it all kind of sounds the same, but my local friends tell me that’s just because I’m listening to the music and not paying attention to the lyrics. There are a few ranchero songs that I’ve learned some lines to because they’re so overplayed, especially during the town fair that just passed in December. It is usually played in bars and cantinas, which is why it was so popular during the feria – every other food vendor had a stereo set up with ranchero CDs on repeat to keep the drinkers happy.

Contemporary Christian music is another popular genre around town since I haven’t met a single person here that doesn’t identify with some sect of Christianity. It usually serves as my alarm clock in the morning. My neighbor likes playing music (usually Christian) at full volume, especially first thing in the morning. So I usually wake up to it around 7, sometimes even 5 or 6. Ugh. I can also hear the nearby church singing it over their speaker system just about every night from 8-10. I definitely get more than my fill.

When it comes to partying and dancing, however, bachata is the favorite, along with merengue and reggaeton. Punta is also fairly popular at the town dances. It’s got a faster beat and more of a Caribbean feel since it comes from the Garífunas (an ethnic group of African descent) on the north coast.

There are also a couple of radio stations that play the Latin top 40 as well as some American pop music. But if people are listening to music in English, it’s almost always something from the ‘80s. Jon Bon Jovi is huge here, as is Michael Jackson (of course), Men at Work, Guns N Roses, and a bunch of other hair bands and their rock ballads. I walked past a pool hall the other night, and they were playing the best of Phil Collins. I had to pause for a minute to rock out to “Against All Odds”. There are a lot of people here that might not know any English, but can still sing along to more ‘80s jams than I ever knew existed.

This was my first year spending Christmas away from the family. I must say, it didn’t really feel like Christmas, but we still made it work. Leading up to the holidays, I set to work trying to find all of the ingredients to make my mom’s usual Christmas cookies. I had to improvise with a few things, but three supermarkets later I left Tegucigalpa all set to do a lot of baking. My host mom doesn’t use the oven because she doesn’t really understand how it works, and Hondurans don’t typically cook in the oven. So I had to clear out all of the extra pots since my host mom just uses it as an extra cabinet, and I borrowed some baking sheets and a measuring cup from my neighbor.

Without all of the fancy kitchen gadgets and an extra set of hands to help, all of the baking took about a day and a half. I played Christmas carols while I was mixing up batches of cookies, but it was a strange singing “Let It Snow” and “White Christmas” while sweating in the Honduran heat. Neighbors and friends kept stopping in because it was the first time they had seen the gringa in the kitchen. Everyone marveled because I think they all assumed I had no idea how to make anything besides a bowl of cereal. The cookies turned out almost the same as how Mom makes them, and I made up a few plates to hand out to neighbors and friends.

I also brought a platter of cookies to the office Christmas party that was held on the 23rd. The whole thing was catered, and I was the only one that showed up with something to share, but whatever. After we ate dinner, we exchanged Secret Santa gifts. I had drawn the secretary’s name from the hat, and don’t know her very well so I just got her a nice bottle of wine and corkscrew. The vice mayor picked my name, and got me a pair of running shoes, since I’m the only woman in Cantarranas that goes for the occasional jog.

On the 24th, my friend Neka from Cornell, flew in to visit for the holidays. We spent that night celebrating with the Hondurans since they all celebrate as soon as Christmas starts, aka midnight on Christmas Eve. We slept in on Christmas and I started cooking around noon. Four other volunteers and a friend from Cantarranas joined us for dinner so I was cooking for seven. It was my first time making a big meal for that many people. I cooked a pork roast and was shocked when I didn’t completely ruin it! Everything turned out great actually, and I think everyone was pleased. Especially with the cookie platter for dessert haha.

All in all it was a great way to spend the holiday, even if it wasn’t the most traditional. And it was all topped off with a trip to the North Coast for New Year’s Eve!

Last week the annual feria (fair or festival) took place in Cantarranas. Most municipalites have at least one a year, often two - one general/municipal fair and another that's associated with food/harvest like an avocado or mango festival. We just had our general feria, and I think the food expo is in April. From the 5th to the 13th, the town was taken over by visitors, vendors, small carnival rides, and random programmed events.

Some of the things I attended were a rodeo, a ranchero music festival (which is like country music, but in Spanish), and a pop singing competition. There were also some horse riding competitions, a food eating contest, and the whole thing came to a conclusion with the crowning of the feria's child queen. There were a ridiculous amount of people that came to town for the crowning ceremony and dance on the last Saturday. It was all very small-town, and supposedly it's been much better organized in the past, but I still had a good time.

Also, there were a handful of volunteers that came throughout to week to visit and check out the festivities. It was nice not being the only gringa in town for once :) For pictures, click the feria link in the right sidebar.

I moved into Cantarranas yesterday, and contrary to what the staff told us ahead of time, there IS an internet cafe here. Also, if you're trying to find me on a map, you need to search for San Juan de Flores, which is apparently the official name of the town.

I'm living in a fairly nice house with running water and electricity - my standards for 'nice' have seriously changed since starting on this journey. I'm living with Dunia (my host mom) and her three sons, ages 16, 10, and 10 months old. Daniel, the baby, is super cute and smiley all the time. They don't technically have any pets, but there's a neighborhood dog that stops by every once in awhile. There's also an assortment of chickens and roosters in the yard. I've gotten used to the constant crowing because it's been the background noise since the DR, but now I have a noisy donkey for a neighbor as well.

It's warmer here than in Zarabanda since it's in a valley. I like the town so far - there's a cute central park and beautiful views of the surrounding mountains. There aren't any chain stores or restaurants, everything is locally owned.

We started our technical training today by creating a community map and learning about the Honduran government, specifically how the municipalities work. They're equivalent to counties in the US. Eventually, all of the volunteers in my project will be placed in a county seat to work in the mayor's office, with community based organizations, or with NGOs. Tomorrow, they begin the first round of technical interviews, which is how the staff decides where each volunteer would be best suited.

I made it! Finally! I have to keep reminding myself that I’m in Honduras because I really felt like I was never going to get here. Since I last posted an update, we left the Dominican Republic and were on our way to Honduras, but there were a couple delays leaving Santo Domingo so we missed our connecting flight in Miami. We were then told that we were going to fly out the next day, but due to some issues which weren’t really clear (red tape? Political unrest? Diplomatic issues?) the PC decided to hold us in Miami until Monday. They made some last minute training activities for us in Miami, but the majority of our time was free to spend enjoying the conveniences that we missed in the DR. It was nice to take a short break from being the gringa all the time, but it was also really frustrating not being able to move forward with training.

Since the flights to Tegucigalpa (Teguz) were scheduled last minute, they sent us in three groups on three different days. I was in the first group that arrived on Monday and thought for sure that one of the other groups would get delayed again or rerouted. Luckily, everyone arrived safely, and we’re all prepping to head to field based training tomorrow.

The training center is located in Zarabanda, a fairly rural community to the east of Teguz. I feel like I’ve regressed to elementary school because every day, our host mothers pack up our lunch boxes and send us to wait for the big yellow school bus that takes us to the training center. Zarabanda is a nice change of pace from Santo Domingo – much less traffic and pollution, and the climate is fantastic. I really missed sitting in the sun because I was constantly trying to avoid it in the DR. Also, there are practically no mosquitoes in my neighborhood, which means no mosquito net, no bug spray, and no more cortisone cream. Hooray!

Since the area is more rural, internet is not easily accessible, especially when we spend the majority of our day at the training center and don’t have much time to travel to the neighboring cities/pueblos. Also, where I’m going for field based training (Cantarranas), there won’t be internet available. Please keep the e-mails coming because I love hearing from everyone, but don’t expect a quick response. Also, because we’re really in Honduras now, the mailing address that I listed in my first post is actually applicable. Bring on the snail mail! Or, if you feel like splurging on a phone call, my new cell number is 011-504-9722-9740.

My host family is great. My host parents are Denia and Alex, and they have three kids – Ivis (22 yrs old) lives and studies in Teguz, and Alexandra (15) and Axel Eduardo (10) both live at home. The house is simpler than where I was living in the DR. The main room serves as living room, dining room, and kitchen. There is one bathroom and two bedrooms – one for me and one for the family. I don’t have the luxury of running water anymore so I’m learning how to take bucket showers. Also, since it’s not super hot and humid all the time, the cold showers have gone from being really refreshing to being a shock to the system. But even though there’s no running water, there are running puppies, which make up for it :) There is one puppy that is still nameless since they adopted him off the street less than a week ago, and there’s also Toby who is 5 months old and his mama Sasha.

As I mentioned, field based training (FBT) starts next week so I’m only with this family until tomorrow. The Municipal Development trainees are moving to Cantarranas (means “singing frogs”), which is in a valley about a half hour away. FBT is seven weeks long, and then we return to our families here in the Zarabanda area for a final week of assessment and our swearing-in ceremony, which is on September 25th. Over the course of FBT, we are all going to meet with our program directors to discuss our background, preferences, etc. to determine our project placement. Originally there were 20 sites for the 16 Muni D volunteers, but with the coup, some communities have decided not to host a volunteer and others have lost a lot of funding so their projects are no longer possible. We’re now down to 17 sites so we won’t have as much of a choice in our project site.

I posted the rest of my pictures from the DR and Miami in the previous link, and the new pictures from Honduras can be found here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2311244&id=431888&l=37c989049e

I'm posting a few more pictures as well as some final comments on the DR before I head out to Honduras. Again, it's kind of scattered since I didn't write it all at once... 1. Public transportation; 2. Dominicans speak funny Spanish; 3. Municipal Development; 4. Machismo; 5. Honduras, etc.

1. Public transportation here is organized chaos. Every day I take a “carro público” to get to and from training. They’re all 5-seater cars, but it’s standard to cram seven people in – four passengers in the back and 2 more up front with the driver. They run much like a bus would along a designated route, but you hail them like a taxi so there are no definite stops. A lot of them are falling apart or don’t have their route labeled so you have to learn what the different colors and hand signals mean. The busses (or guaguas) work pretty much the same way, except their routes are usually longer. They come in all sorts of sizes, from vans to school busses, but the most common ones have four seats across, which of course fit five people. Most of my time on public transportation is spent practically sitting on top of someone. There’s definitely no concept of personal space here.

2. I’m learning more Dominican Spanish, just in time to leave the country. It’s so frustrating because so many things that I learned in Spain seem to be the exact opposite here, and even in comparison to the rest of Latin America, the DR seems to have a language all it’s own. A guagua here is a bus, but everywhere else it’s a baby. Papaya is “lechosa” and “guapo/a” doesn’t mean “pretty” anymore; instead they use “lindo/a”. And it’s not just vocabulary. There are grammar rules and word orders that I have to change around as well. Something as simple as saying “I’ll be right back” has swapped from “ahora vengo” to “vengo ahora”.

3. But even with all of the language intricacies that I have to learn, I’m more anxious to start in on the field-based training. I seem to be one of the few in my group that has zero experience in municipal development or anything remotely related to it. Most of the others seem to have a good understanding of municipal development and local government and are struggling more with the language. When we get to Honduras, the group of 50 volunteers is breaking up into the three project groups – the other two are Youth Development and Protected Areas Management. The other day we visited a volunteer at his site in Seibo, the capital of the province by the same name. He’s technically working in Youth Development (there are no Muni D projects in the DR), but since he coordinates a lot with the local government and education office, it was related to what we could possibly be working on in Honduras. Apparently there is also a strong focus on civic education and promoting local tourism (agro-tourism in most cases).

4. The machismo here is pretty awful, and apparently it’s even worse in Honduras. Instead of just getting catcalls and whistles from every guy on the street, they’ll also follow me wherever I’m going. Great. I love being white. I’m convinced that at least one of the girls in the group is going to cause a car or motorcycle accident because the guys here make such a point of turning their heads as they pass you on the street, completely disregarding the fact that they’re still driving. The male volunteers can go hang out at the local store or bar to chill out, but apparently if I go with them then I’ll give off the impression that I’m easy. What a fantastic way to integrate into the community…

5. Aside from putting up with that nonsense, I’m really looking forward to Honduras, especially the slightly cooler climate. I feel like I haven’t stopped sweating since I arrived in the DR, and I’ve been drinking at least two liters of water a day to keep myself hydrated. It doesn’t help that the PC doesn’t allow us to wear shorts or skirts/dresses above the knee and tank tops are frowned upon. I’ll update you all again once I get settled in :)

It's finally been officially confirmed by Peace Corps Headquarters that we are going to Honduras! In less than a week, I'll be there to start the field-based training.

I don't have time to write much else, but hopefully I'll have another update up after the weekend. In the meantime, I've loaded more photos on Facebook. They're in the same album, so you can use the same link as last time.

I’ve uploaded some pictures onto Facebook from staging in Miami and our training thus far. The public link for those who don’t have Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2305100&id=431888&l=ea03ffd0be

Earlier this week, we went to visit downtown Santo Domingo. We walked through the touristy areas and visited some of the historic sites, like the cathedral and Christopher Columbus’ house. It’s was interesting to see, but it felt 10 degrees hotter with all of the close buildings and traffic. Also, all of the Dominicans there assumed we were tourists, which was a bit irritating after living for a week with host families and attempting to assimilate into their culture.

Speaking of my host family, I forgot to mention our pets. Snoopy is their dog – a mix of poodle and Chihuahua that looks like neither. He’s mi mejor amigo :) And Cuca (or Kooka) is their parrot. She doesn’t like me much and tries to bite me anytime I get too close, but she’s really talkative which is funny. Angela taught her to say her name, “Hola” and “Que lo que” (which is how they say “how’s it going” in the DR). She also whistles a lot, the way that you would whistle at someone attractive.

Training is still going well. They taught us how to play dominoes, which is a very popular game here. Yesterday, one of the staff that was giving us a lecture mentioned the marriage stats among volunteers. About 10% of people (worldwide) get married during their service, and he once had a class of 40-something volunteers in Honduras out of which 12 of them were married by the end of their two years. I thought that was hilarious and figured I should mention it if for nothing more than to give Mom and Grammie a little scare. See you in 2011 with my Honduran husband!

I’ve survived my first few days in Santo Domingo, but I think I shed about 50 pounds of water weight from sweating so much. Thankfully it rained last night and today so we have a nice break from the heat/humidity. According to the current plan, we're due to leave for Honduras on the 22nd. The staff is still keeping an eye on the political situation, though, and we should have some definite word this week about whether or not we are actually going there. The rest of this entry has been pieced together whenever I have time to get to a computer, and it gets a bit lengthy so here's a little table of contents in case you want to skip around or just get the general idea: 1. the training center and language; 2. my host family and food; 3. life in the barrio; 4. my fellow trainees, mosquitos; 5. a funeral that I attended.

1. The training center is a little tropical paradise set back from the main road in the western part of the city. All of the buildings are open, and the landscaping is incredible. Palm trees and tropical trees in general make me happy :) We started our language training today, and I definitely have a lot to learn. The people here have an accent that is similar to Malagueños, but the lingo is very different. They also speak incredibly fast, which makes it nearly impossible to follow conversations amongst the locals.

2. Angela, my host mom, is such a sweetheart and an excellent cook. The food is similar to Puerto Rico’s – lots of rice and beans, bananas and plantains, and a LOT of tropical fruit. The day after we were introduced, I spent the afternoon with her in her boutique/hair salon. I feel like I met every woman in the neighborhood as well as some of their children. She has 2 sons - one that lives at home, and the other lives in New Jersey. Jersey pride! Her husband is also very familiar with my state as well as most of the country. He's in the DR now, but has also lived in almost 30 states in the US.

3. The neighborhood ("barrio") where I live is very lively, and there are always a lot of kids around. It’s almost like a block party every evening – people blasting music for their neighbors to hear, sharing dinner with friends down the street, and generally just hanging out in front of their homes to enjoy the cooler night air and gossip about whatever is going on. Blackouts and electricity malfunctions are so common here that they have an expression – “se fue la luz” – which loosely translates to “the light went out”. I’ve been in my home stay for less than three days and I’ve already heard my madre say it four times. Those who can afford it (my host mom included) have a generator or inverter to use until the electricity comes back on.

4. I really enjoy the people in my training group. It’s a pretty even mix of men and women, but there isn’t much age diversity. There are a few older volunteers, but most of us are in our early or mid-twenties. In training, we’ve gone over a bunch of safety and health information. I’m now a bit paranoid that I’m going to get assaulted and robbed and then contract dengue and malaria. Fun! Seriously though, the mosquitoes are awful. I feel rude not hanging out with my host family and friends late into the evenings, but all I really want to do is hide out under my mosquito net. Maybe I’ll get one of those beekeeper suits…

5. The grandfather of one of Angela’s friends/employees passed away on Saturday. She explained to me that it’s customary in the DR to keep the deceased in the home for the remainder of the day that they died and through the night. The following morning, they “have breakfast with the departed” and then bring them to the cemetery. I joined Angela in the funeral procession yesterday. All of the coffins in the cemetery were above ground like in New Orleans – you can tell how wealthy a family is by how ornate and extensive their mausoleum is. The funeral that I attended was more towards the other end of the socio-economic scale. The pall bearers placed the simple wooden coffin into an open cement box. There was no dirt or anything covering the coffin – they placed cement around the rim of the box and sealed the top off with two cement slabs. There was no priest or any religious official there to lead a service. Also, the mourners were much louder than those back home. The man who passed away had quite a few daughters, and all of them were screaming and wailing at the top of their lungs. It was hard for me to feel remorse for them when I was so shocked by their volume. At one point, one of the daughters (a fairly hefty woman) started screaming that she didn’t want to live without her papa and attempted to throw herself on top of his coffin before three men carried her away. Since there was no official religious service and it was ridiculously hot outside, the whole procession and burial only lasted about 45 minutes - definitely an interesting cultural experience though.

I'm in Miami right now after an afternoon full of orientation activities. We were filled in on a few more details regarding the Dominican Republic and Honduras.

I will be spending an extra day in Miami tomorrow and flying into Santo Domingo, DR on Thursday morning. One of the PC staff explained that the detour to DR is more for appearances than for safety reasons. The PC doesn't want to send volunteers into Honduras and give the impression that they are in support of the coup. In the meantime, we will be at a training center in Pantoja, in the western suburbs of Santo Domingo. The training center has wi-fi so I should be able to check my e-mail fairly regularly :)

In case you haven't heard, there was a coup in Honduras yesterday - the military took the president from his home and flew him to Costa Rica. There have been protests around the capital, but no violence as of yet. Naturally, the Peace Corps is concerned about the safety of its volunteers. Those already in country haven't been moved yet, but they are on alert. As for my training group, we will be headed to the Dominican Republic for a few weeks of language training. From there, we will hopefully be able to move on to our field-based training in Honduras. The PC staff will be keeping an eye on the political situation to decide whether or not it's safe for us to move.

To sum it up - I'm headed to Miami tomorrow morning for our pre-departure orientation. On Wednesday morning I'm flying to the Dominican Republic, and from there, who knows. I'll try to update this site if I hear anything new.

It's almost time for me to pack up and head out. While I'm in Honduras, I hope to be able to use this site to keep you all updated on my life, work, adventures, and whatnot. How often I'm going to have internet access is still a big question mark, though. I'm really nervous, but excited to finally get started!

A few logistics before I go...

During training, my mailing address will be:

Laura Tagatac, PCT

Voluntario del Cuerpo de Paz

Apartado Postal 3158

Tegucigalpa, D.C 11102

Honduras

Some notes about the mail in Honduras:

It usually takes two to three weeks to receive letters. If you want to send a package, it's recommended that you use a padded envelope instead of a box. Boxes are more likely to get taxed and/or broken into, and valuable items sometimes disappear. Electrical appliances can't be sent through the mail so try to hold back on sending me blenders and toasters.

If you want to send anything via UPS, FedEx, or DHL, you should use the following address since they can't deliver to a P.O. box:

Colonia Palmira

Avenida República de Chile #401

Tegucigalpa 11101

Honduras